|
“A
lapse in diet,” she drawled into the microphone. “My
husband just looked at me and said, ‘Darlin’, I’m
disappointed in you. You were doin’ so well.’”
Ouch.
I felt a sense of empathy rise between us, remembering
my own diet battles under the watchful eyes of others.
She
stared intently at the camera, drawing in her TV
audience, including me. “You know what I told him?”
I leaned forward. What?
“I looked him in right in the eye and said,
‘Darlin’—you don’t know how many I wanted!”
Ha! I fell back against the couch, surprised and
delighted. With a mere twist of perspective, failure had
become triumph, the seeming slip, a success.
Success
in striving
From
that moment on I’ve seen grace in the good attempt.
From the Ten Commandments to common courtesy, we’re
measured by our willingness to try to get it right, set
it straight, put a life back in order. It’s that first
faithful step that wins the race.
Where there’s room for improvement, there’s
room for God.
One
of my favorite movies is Rudy, a true-life story
about a young man’s football quest not
to win, but to just be a player for the team he loved --
Notre Dame. At five feet, five inches tall, Rudy was
more heart than height, but what he lacked in bulk he
made up for in determination. When the coach finally let
Rudy play during a final, critical match, he tackled
down an opposing player at least twice his size and won
the acclaim of a roaring crowd. Rudy’s team had
already clinched the game, but the victory was his.
Success was found in the striving to succeed.
Staying
in the game
The
Bible tells us about Peter, whose desire to walk on
water like Jesus was ripe with promise and wrought with
failure. Looking away from Him and into the storm, Peter
became afraid and began to sink into the sea. Yet Peter
won the helping hand of God that day. And another chance
to try again.
I
have a writer friend whose goal is to collect one
hundred rejection letters in a year. Why would she
subject herself to the barrage of bad news? “Because
each rejection,” she says, “is confirmation that
I’m still in the game. The odds of my being published
drop down to zero the moment I stop trying.”
Never
stop trying, not even in the face of danger. The band of
brave souls onboard United’s flight 93 on September 11
saw the threat, knew the odds, and still, with the roar
of silent prayers, gave it literally everything they
had. They “failed” to survive yet saved many lives
that day. Forty people perished on that flight but bless
them, we don’t know how many would have died.
God
of love
So
the next time you see someone giving it her all—or
seeming to succumb to chocolate—be glad for the effort
and thankful for a God who knows our failures, sees our
flaws—but loves us anyway.
He
loves us when we have a Coke instead of coffee, coffee
instead of scotch. When we try—again and again—to
parallel park.
He
loves us when a smile defeats us but we manage not to
cry. When we feel the temptation but resist the sin.
He
loves those who have strawberries instead of cheesecake;
Baked Lays instead of fries.
He
loves walkers and mountain climbers and those who roll
in wheelchairs to keep up with the crowd.
He
loves shower-time singers and women who dance in the
kitchen more than they’ll ever stir a stew.
He
loves the kid who gets back on the bike.
He
loves the widow who walks down the aisle.
He
loves all the stubborn souls who daily exhibit seemingly
small acts of bravery, proving their willingness to give
it a try. Again.
And one day we’ll all score a
perfect “10” on the Goo-Goo scale of good attempts.
I know I’ll be eager with excitement and, like Peter,
thrill to the chance to emulate Jesus, humbly
triumphant, quietly victorious. And in that moment
I’ll whisper a prayer to my biggest fan, my steady
coach: “Thank
you, Lord. After all that practice, I finally got it
right.”
|
