The Fringe Benefits of Failure and the Importance of Imagination is the title of J.K. Rowling’s commencement address to Harvard’s class of 2008. Given my proclivity for these often provocative speeches to graduates, I read as many as I can get my “hands” on. Hers is one of my all-time favorites.
I was reminded of it while talking with one of my best friends about allowing our children to fail actually. Lee is a high-powered attorney in L.A. and succinctly offered this, “Failure is evidence, Caroline.”
I later reflected on the meaning of this phrase as it relates to how failure informs our lives, our paths and our very selves – if we let it – as well as those of our children – if we choose not to shield them from it.
There are varying schools of thought on this, of course. Some research suggests that the problem with letting our children fail is that they can, in turn, perceive themselves as failures which could be detrimental to self esteem and future success.
J.K. Rowling, author of the wildly successful Harry Potter series, would beg to differ. Seven years after graduating from university, she herself failed on a self-described “epic scale.” She sums it up this way, “An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless . . . by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.”
She continues with how she ultimately found security – and herself – by virtue of her experience, “…rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.” She concludes this captivating portion of her speech with, “It is impossible to live without failing at something unless you live so cautiously you might as well not have lived at all…”
One could argue that Rowling did not necessarily have what people think make you successful which, according to psychologist Angela Lee Duckworth PhD, are social intelligence, good looks, physical health and IQ, not to mention talent as much as she had “grit.” Duckworth defines grit as passion, perseverance, stick-to-it-iveness and the acceptance that life is indeed a marathon- not a sprint.
Rowling seems to be the poster child for another critical part of the equation for success: the belief that failure is not a permanent condition. I recently read in a sermon by Ken Baker about the numerous failures of the likes of Rudyard Kipling, Winston Churchill, Thomas Edison and even Michael Jordan. And in light of the lunar eclipse – no pun intended – I briefly “researched” U.S. and Soviet missions to the moon, many of which failed.
I myself have dealt with a significant failure – epic by most standards – although poverty and near-homelessness have not been part of it. Nevertheless a dream dashed is being re-imagined and a story I thought would have a different ending, re-written. And for all the self doubt, pain and yes, suffering, I am surprisingly grateful. For as Rowling suggests, failure strips away the “inessential.”
While I have attempted to focus more fully on what IS essential during this Holy Week, it has never been more apparent to me how Christ – in his humanity – dealt with failure to some degree. This, I suppose, is where we can truly identify with him – by sharing in his sufferings – and he with ours. In his anguished prayer upon the cross, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” (My God, my God why hast Thou forsaken me?), it would seem he thought God had failed him too – if only for a few excruciating moments.
Rowling interestingly concludes her speech on failure (and imagination) with the encouragement to value relationships above all else – so it seems fitting to end with a quote I recently came across by author Max Lucado: “When you are in the final days of your life, what will you want? Will you hug that college degree in the walnut frame? Will you ask to be carried to the garage so that you can sit in your car? Will you find comfort in rereading your financial statement? Of course not! What will matter then will be people. If relationships will matter most then, shouldn’t they matter most now?”
I would add that it is not only your relationships with those you can see but also with the One you cannot. C.S. Lewis writes, “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience but shouts in our pains.”
If you have experienced the sting of minor failures or the agony of a monumental one, you need only whisper or shout four simple words: “My God, my God…” And it may not necessarily be with your hands folded. It may well be with your hands wringing.
Doubting, unbelief, failure? Bring ‘em on. I believe when we call upon the name of the Lord in our difficulty, He will meet us. Oswald Chambers expresses this far more eloquently, “Leave everything to Him and it will be gloriously and graciously uncertain how He will come in, but you can be certain that He will come.”
And when He does, your life will never be the same.
– Caroline Watkins
