One night last week, I awoke abruptly out of deep sleep around 2 a.m. I listened in the dark, ears straining for what brought me out of my dreams. I heard my three-year-old cough, the sound amplified overmuch through the baby monitor on my bedside table. Satisfied it was nothing more, I turned the volume down a tick and tried to find my way back to sleep again.
I couldn’t.
Before I could catch them, my thoughts boarded a runaway train and ran quick, looping circles in my head. My work deadlines, my to-do list, all the emails I needed to answer, all the laundry I’d washed and dried and left in a mountain to wrinkle on top of the dryer. I worried about my upcoming book and all the things I should have changed and all the things I wanted to unwrite. Simultaneously, I bemoaned how dirty the bathrooms and the baseboards have gotten while I’ve worked so much on said book.
Each car of the train carried all the things I needed to do, and with every pass, the train grew longer. My son’s math grade, his upcoming doctor’s appointment. The church member I’ve needed to reach out to but have avoided. The thank you notes from Christmas I haven’t written yet. The friend I’ve prayed for who still wants nothing to do with Christ. It was a big jumbled mess of anxious thoughts, undone tasks, uncontrollable variables, and a crippling fear of failure.
My plate isn’t really any fuller than anyone else I know. We all work, parent, have homes and bills to take care of. We serve in our churches, we pray for others, we worry about our kids or our parents, we wonder if we’ll be able to make ends meet this month. We have to make trips to the grocery store and the doctor’s office, do school drop-off and pick-up, attend meetings, teach our kids, scrub our toilets, disciple new Christians, study our Bibles, read books, and get some sleep.
Sometimes I think, well, yes, I’m too busy. And certainly, there are times I should clear the docket a little. But most of the time, my late-night train rides are due to nothing more complicated than doubt that God is sufficient for me (2 Cor. 9:8, 12:9).
Fear of failure (or, as my sister frequently calls it, “ the flop sweats”) gets to me often. I can’t always untangle my self-worth from the work that I do, as much as I hate to admit it. It’s messy business to unwind my identity from what I do and remember that it is actually wrapped up in who I am. And who I am is a matter of belonging. To God. My actions and endeavors will never be perfect this side of heaven, but the God who keeps me and calls me His own is, was, and always will be perfect. There’s great comfort in knowing that who I am matters more than whether or not I accomplish what I want how I want. Because my identity in Christ is secure, and as long as I’m working for His glory, then success or failure by the world’s standards matters not at all (Phil. 3:14)
Here’s the truth that helps me slow down the train when my fear of failing in life keeps me from resting: God has ordained our days (Ps. 139:16). If we fail to complete the daily tasks we’ve assigned ourselves, He will still be on His throne. If we are nervous about the outcomes of our work–whether daily nine-to-five work or our side-hustle creative endeavors–He will still be sovereign and good. If we fail at all of the things we’ve worked at, He will still be enough for us. He will still accomplish His good purposes, even if we fail in ours. Nothing man can do can thwart His plans to redeem, save, and sanctify (Job 42:2, Prov. 19:21, Is. 14:27).
If we fail at all of the things we’ve worked at, He will still be enough for us. Share on XIt is God who sustains us, the Spirit who is with us, and Christ through whom all things hold together (Col. 1:15-20). God is on the throne. We don’t have to pretend to be. So, when it comes to our worrying, working, and restless fears of failing, we can stop striving and trust that He is God, that He never fails, and that He works all things for good in ways we could never comprehend or imagine (Ps. 46:10, Eph. 3:20).
That’s not a blank check promise that our work will always be completed or celebrated. But it does give us space to rest that His work will be. When I’m fretting over schedules or housework or deadlines, my husband frequently asks me, “Will this matter a million years from now when we’re enjoying God in heaven forever?” Well, no. No, it probably won’t. We can work with both diligence and peace knowing that ultimately, He who began His work in our hearts will faithfully complete it to His glory, for His good purposes, and for our good (Phil. 1:6). And we can decide not to take that late-night train ride because we belong to Him, not to our lists.
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.
Thank you, Glenna, for your well written words! I really enjoyed reading your blog post. I needed to be reminded that “my actions and endeavors will never be perfect this side of heaven, but the God who keeps me and calls me His own is, was, and always will be perfect.” What a comfort this is to me, especially when I fail Him. God is so good!
Thank you for writing in a way that shows you’re human, just like me. (“The flop sweats” literally makes me giggle every time I read it.) The Truth you remind us of here is such a tremendous encouragement and calms my perfectionistic anxieties.