Celebrating Failure
A few weeks ago I failed big, and then I celebrated.
Four months of preparation went towards one evening of music: the annual concerto competition. In the past, I viewed the evening as an extra performance opportunity; this year as a senior the stakes were higher. I was playing the pinnacle of violin repertoire, the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto. I knew I could play the piece well, and I wanted to win.
I should have known that the anxiety and pressure I felt leading up to the evening was unhealthy. The day before the competition when I should have been rehearsing and reinforcing final details, I was on the couch sick to my stomach and mentally delirious, likely a result of anxiety and sleep deprivation. In a day of sickness that limited me physically, I was humbled by the answer to my prayer for rest and my inability to pull myself together. I had cracked under the pressure of juggling a million balls and the fear of dropping one. I was trapped under the perceived need to do a lot of things, to do them all perfectly, and to do them with a smile on my face.
Fighting against a desire for perfection on the morning of the competition, I wrote in my journal asking God to "weed out the fear and worry that controls me, and free me by your Spirit today to be bold and make mistakes and not be perfect, but to meet you there." Per usual, He answered in ways I did not expect.
As I warmed up after night class and before the 9:30pm performance, I knew I was playing out of tune and was mentally fried from an entire day of classes. Going through my head was the question recently posed by a professor: why am I playing scared? What am I afraid of? If I truly believe this music is a gift to the audience and that I am prepared, what do I have to lose? It was no longer about winning; I knew with a strong sense of peace that whatever happened on stage was dedicated to God's glory, and that I would be no less loved if I totally failed. These thoughts turned to desperate pleas in the moments before the performance that God would play with me in my weakness. I walked on stage feeling simultaneously the most doubtful in my abilities and confident in the Lord's than ever before.
What I hoped to experience was a supernatural performance that demonstrated my ability and God's glory. What I experienced instead was supernatural grace and sweet freedom.
In the moments on stage, I played the most passionately I ever have, and without any fear. It was a holy experience of dialoguing with God as I played, and drawing my strength and confidence from Him. I truly enjoyed giving the gift of music to my audience. And then my mind and body gave out. My mental map failed, my fingers lost muscle memory, and I froze on stage. I couldn't hear the next passage, though my audience was singing the familiar tune in their heads. What I can only describe as God working in my weakness, I jumped to the end where He played through me when I had no idea where I was or what I was doing.
I gave a sheepish grin, then walked off the stage and into freedom. Despite the initial shock of failure by performance standards, I was full of peace and began to celebrate my imperfection (with hugs, laughter, and a lot of ice cream). I was never asked to play perfectly; I was asked to give my best effort, and in that moment that was all I could offer. It is tempting to believe that when we invite God into our efforts that we will always be successful. By playing with God and for Him, I still made mistakes, but He is able to work even our failures for our good and His glory.
When the wall of perfection fell down with that performance, I literally danced around the halls of the music building the next day without the weight of needing to stay measured and put together. I experienced so much grace, love, and support from people who I assumed would have thought less of me for failing big and publicly. In fact, the opposite was true: I moved people by my performance in spite of and maybe because of my imperfection. I learned that regardless of my efforts and output, I am enough.
There will be more times when I fail, maybe even on stage. But there is no reason to fear these mistakes and every reason to celebrate them! It is a JOY to be authentically human, to boast of our brokenness and weakness, and to partner with God in our efforts. He is faithful to answer our prayers, though never as we expect.
Friends, you are just as loved right now as you have been every moment of your life, and will be loved every moment of your future. There is so much grace for mistakes. "No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:37-39