A Faithful Response to Failure

(“Eugène Siberdt: The Prophet Nathan rebukes King David” - Wikimedia Commons)

This year we're collaborating with writers across the Augustine Collective, a network of student-led Christian journals, to bring you a series of short devotional articles during this season of Lent, the 40-day period prior to Easter. Find this series also published by UChicago's CANA Journal and UC Berkeley's TAUG.

by louis dimodica, University of chicago

“I failed.”

“I was wrong.”

“That’s my fault.”

Few sentences are harder to say.  Sometimes the embarrassment of failure runs so deep that I can trace the very stages of grief within myself: denial, anger, bargaining, depression… and maybe, finally, acceptance.

Basketball gives me frequent practice. I drive to the basket, feel contact, and miss a layup… but no foul is called—the referee’s whistle stays silent. Disbelief flashes into anger; I plead in vain. Then comes the slow trudge downcourt, the reluctant acceptance that it’s time to play defense.

Scripture overflows with stories of failure. One of the most striking is that of King David—a man after God’s very own heart (1Sa 13:14 ESV)—who commits adultery, lies, and murders, all in a single chapter (2Sa 11). Unsurprisingly, “the thing that David had done displeased the Lord” (2Sa 11:27 ESV).  

David’s failure teaches us two lessons about responding to our own failures.  The first is about friendship. After Scripture notes God’s displeasure at David’s sin, we immediately read, “And the Lord sent Nathan to David” (2Sa 12:1 ESV).  Nathan told David the hard truth that he couldn’t see for himself, reflecting the reality that repentance rarely happens in isolation. Each of us needs a “Nathan” in our lives—an honest friend who loves us enough to tell us when we’re wrong.

But when my friend tells me I screwed up, how do I respond?  Psalm 51 shows us how David did:

“Have mercy on me, O God,

    according to your steadfast love;

according to your abundant mercy

    blot out my transgressions.

Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,

    and cleanse me from my sin!

For I know my transgressions,

    and my sin is ever before me.

Against you, you only, have I sinned

    and done what is evil in your sight,

so that you may be justified in your words

    and blameless in your judgment.


Create in me a clean heart, O God,

    and renew a right spirit within me.

Cast me not away from your presence,

    and take not your Holy Spirit from me.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation,

    and uphold me with a willing spirit.” 

(Ps 51:1-4, 10-12 ESV)

David repeatedly acknowledges his wrongdoing (vv. 3-5, 14) and asks for forgiveness (vv. 1-2, 7-12).  Simply put, Psalm 51 is a psalm of repentance. David throws himself not on his resolve to do better, but on God’s steadfast love and abundant mercy.

When I fail, I too ought to repent. Granted, this may look different depending on the circumstance. Missing a layup is hardly an offense against God, but I can still own my mistake rather than blame the referee. If I mistreat my roommate, parent, or significant other, I should (1) acknowledge it and (2) seek forgiveness, both from the person I wronged and the LORD.

While the whole of the Christian life is one of repentance (Martin Luther, “95 Theses”, 1517), the season of Lent is especially so. As I reflect on Jesus Christ’s Passion, suffering, and Crucifixion, I remember that it was my failures, my wrongdoings, my sins, that held him there (cf. Stuart Townend, “How Deep the Father's Love for Us”, 1995).  

Every failure I face is like a mini-Lent, a reminder of my ultimate failure to love God more than myself. David prescribes a simple response suited to both: “a broken and contrite heart,” exhibited by admission of fault, request for forgiveness, and reliance on our Father’s promises (Ps 51:14, 17).  This Lent, may we learn from David how to respond to every kind of failure, from the quotidian to the cosmic: by turning in repentance to God, accepting his grace in Christ Jesus.

Today’s devotion was written by Louis DiModica, a senior at the University of Chicago studying Economics, Religion, and Geographic Information Science.

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