I normally have my One Year Bible handy when I have my breakfast. I’m delving into Jeremiah’s depression right now. To be honest, it makes me pretty darned sad for poor Jeremiah. But, alas, today, my One Year was two flights up and I was too lazy to get it. So I perused my bookshelf and came upon The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning. I’d read about half of it before, so I turned to a new chapter and feasted while I ate orange scones:

“What makes authentic disciples is not visions, ectasies, biblical mastery of chapter and verse, or spectacular success in the ministry, but a capacity for faithfulness. Buffeted by the fickle winds of failure, battered by their own unruly emotions, and bruised by rejection and ridicule, authentic disciples may have stumbled and frequently fallen, endured lapses and relapses, gotten handcuffed to the fleshpots and wandered into a far country. Yet, they kept coming back to Jesus.” (p. 176).

Oh how I resonate with Manning’s well-put words. I am more marked by my failures, precisely because my many faults point me back to my utter need for Jesus. I love that my running to Him is what He counts as faithfulness, rather than my ability to perform the Christian life. If this is truly the case, then I can say I’m faithful (by God’s grace alone). Why? Because Jesus always beckons me, bruised and warty and fickle and flighty as I am. He is always there. He is not the One who shakes His head with disdain at my inability to live right. We welcomes.

My sacred failure is simply an opportunity to see His Sacred Beckoning.