Failure is a universal part of life. It touches all of us, and it is experienced in both minor and significant ways. Sometimes, we face small setbacks—losing a game, burning dinner, or struggling with weight loss.
But those small misfortunes quickly fade from memory. Other times, failures are more profound and long-lasting, like the collapse of a business or the breakdown of a marriage. These deeper failures hurt emotionally, impacting not just ourselves, but also those around us. Family members and friends can be affected, and those failures can linger and leave lasting scars.
The most damaging failure is when it reshapes how we view ourselves. It’s one thing to say, “I failed,” but it is much worse to say, “I am a failure,” letting defeat define us and leave us feeling hopeless and inadequate. It can lead us to believe that life is unbearable.
In today’s Gospel, Simon Peter experiences two kinds of failure. The first is relatively minor: a poor night of fishing, easily turned around with Jesus’ help. The second is much deeper. Peter, confronted with his sinfulness, falls to his knees, saying, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” Overwhelmed by guilt, he sees himself as a failure. A strong fisherman brought to his knees, realizing his own brokenness. Yet Jesus doesn’t condemn him. Instead, He calls him: “Follow Me.” Jesus saw Peter as a disciple, not a failure.
This mirrors the experience of the Prophet Isaiah, who, upon encountering God’s holiness, cries out, “Woe is me, for I am a man of unclean lips.” Like Peter, Isaiah is confronted with his own imperfection. But rather than being cast aside, he is called by God. Their failures become gateways to new life, not signs of rejection.
This theme is echoed in the parable of the prodigal son. The son returns home, broken and feeling like a failure, but his father embraces him, offering forgiveness and restoration. The father’s joy comes not from his son’s perfection, but from his return.
What do these stories tell us? Perhaps we may be too hard on ourselves, allowing guilt to overshadow our sense of worth. We often believe our failures are too great for forgiveness. I hear it in confessions all the time. There are people who are removed from their faith for years, and cannot shake their guilt.
But this is where we misunderstand God. We project our human judgments onto Him, forgetting that His mercy is greater than our failures and our sins. When we turn to Him with a repentant heart, He embraces us, just as the father did with the prodigal son, calling us to follow Him.
Jesus welcomed the outcasts—those whom society considered unworthy. His table is open to all who acknowledge their need for grace. The only ones excluded are those who think they don’t need it.
As Lent approaches, we must ask ourselves: Will we let our failures define us, or will we accept God’s grace and follow Him, as He has called us to do? Will we take our place at His table, humbly accepting His forgiveness?
