Fear of Failure

When You Step Out of the Boat: What Failure Can Teach Us About Faith
There’s a moment many of us know well: we stand at the edge of a new reality. A new responsibility, a difficult conversation, a risk that feels too great, and a quiet voice inside asks, “Who am I to do this?” We rehearse and remind ourselves not of our unique capabilities but of our shortcomings. Every night I try to sleep, my brain pulls out a catalog of my past mistakes and plays them again and again. More often than not, I think that instinct to limit ourselves, the fear of repeating past mistakes, causes many of us to stay where we are, safe and still, as the moment of God’s calling passes by.

But what if that fear of failure is not a signal to retreat? What if it is actually the sign of something God is trying to do in and through us?

The Burning Bush and the Man Who Ran Away
When God appears to Moses in Exodus 3, Moses is not exactly at the height of his career or life by any measure. He is a fugitive. He has blood on his hands and a difficult past following him like a shadow. Moses ran as far from his past as he could, trying to leave it in the dust. Moses tends someone else's sheep in the wilderness, which is not exactly the biography of a world-changer, and he probably thinks he has succeeded in his escape as the years pass by.

And yet God meets him there, in the ordinary, in the unremarkable routine of a regular day, following him across nations, and speaks a calling over his life that seems, by any reasonable measure, absurd. Go to Pharaoh. Bring my people out of Egypt. Lead a nation to freedom.

Moses responds the way most of us would. “No.” More personally, Moses essentially says: wrong person, wrong time. He points to his limitations, his lack of eloquence, his history, his inadequacy. And God's answer is not a list of reasons why Moses is actually quite impressive. God does not say, "No, Moses, you're being too hard on yourself. You have a lot to offer." God simply says: I will be with you.

That is the whole answer. That is the entire argument. Not Moses's qualifications, but God's presence with him. This is a profound reframing for anyone who has ever talked themselves out of a calling. The question was never whether you are impressive enough. The question is whether God is faithful enough to be with you? And the answer has never changed. Well duh, yes.

The One Who Got Out of the Boat
In Matthew 14, Jesus walks toward his disciples across a storm-tossed sea. They are terrified, convinced they are seeing a ghost. We get the trope you know I hate of “fear not,” “too late.” But Peter, being his impulsive, imperfect, reckless self, calls out and asks Jesus to command him to come.

And Jesus says: you guessed it, come. So, Peter steps out. And for a moment, for quite a distance, enough to get within reach of Jesus, Peter actually walks on water. He does something no human being has ever done before or since. And then Peter notices the wind, the water beneath him. He feels the enormity of what he is doing, and he begins to sink.

Here is where the story gets misread. Peter is so often held up as a cautionary tale about doubt, a man who failed because his faith was not strong enough or faithful enough. But before we rush to that judgment, we should pause and count the number of people still sitting in the boat… Eleven...

Eleven disciples who never even tried to walk on water, who were not convinced this was Jesus. Eleven people who watched, waited, and kept themselves dry and safe. Which I would have done because I do not like to get wet. Peter is the only one who recognized Jesus, who called out to him, and answered the call. Peter is the only one who stepped out. And yes, he sank, but he also walked! He did something extraordinary before the fear took hold. Because Peter’s eyes were fixed on Jesus and not his own fears and instincts.

When he cried out, Jesus did not lecture him. Well, he did a little bit. But Jesus did not say, "I told you so." He reached out his hand and caught him, because Jesus does not save us because we earned it. Jesus saves because that is who Jesus is. That is the picture of grace. Not a God who stands at a distance and grades our performance, but a God who is close enough to catch us when we go under. To encourage us, to give us direction and something to hope for.

Failure Is Not the Final Word
Shame tells us one thing, and grace tells us another. Shame says: you are a failure. It makes the stumble into an identity, a permanent verdict on your worth and your future. Grace says: you failed. Now learn, repair, and try again.

This distinction matters enormously, both for individuals and for communities of faith. The church is meant to be a place where people can tell the truth about what went wrong, learn from mistakes without humiliation, and begin again with hope. When it functions this way, it becomes a place of genuine transformation. When it does not, when mistakes are met with judgment, and risk is discouraged, it becomes a place where people bury their gifts rather than offer them. Rather than answering the call.

What Would You Risk?
There is a question worth sitting with this week: What would you attempt for God if you knew that failure did not have the final word? What conversation would you start? What commitment would you make? What step would you take out of the boat?

Moses did not feel qualified. Peter did not stay above the water. And yet both of their stories are woven into the great narrative of what God has done in the world through ordinary, imperfect, sometimes failing human beings who were willing to say yes. We believe because of their examples of when they struggled to believe.

Faithfulness is not the same as flawless success. Faithfulness is what happens when we navigate failure and still keep moving toward God. It is fixing our eyes on Christ when the wind picks up and the waves feel too large. It is trusting that the same God who called us will be present with us. in every step, in every stumble, and in every new beginning.

The invitation is open. Will you get out of the boat?