The Gift of Weakness: How Failure Can Strengthen Our Faith

There are so many things I wish someone could have told me at thirty, because at thirty I thought I had life figured out.

I didn’t.

Life turned upside down quickly. I wish someone had said to me:

“You are holding onto things that don’t matter, and you are believing in yourself for the wrong reasons. Stop measuring your life by achievements or “blessings,” whether material, relational, or reputational, because none of them will last. What you now call blessings will be taken away, and when they are, you will discover that being blessed is far better than you ever imagined.”

There is no way I could have prepared my thirty-year-old self for what lay ahead. How does one prepare for the unknown? I’m glad I didn’t know what was coming, but I wish I had known that while God was taking away my earthly treasures, he was giving me something that could never be taken away—he was giving me himself.

I wish I had known that trusting God would never be a mistake and that he would use every ounce of my pain for my good and his glory. And I wish I had known that life in Christ would continue to get better, because Jesus always saves the best wine for the end.

The Illusion of Strength and Success

My late teens and twenties were marked by unmitigated success. Academic success in high school and college. A thriving career post-college. An MBA from a prestigious university. A great marriage to a business school classmate. A steady climb up the corporate ladder.

Life was glorious from a worldly perspective. I was denied nothing my heart desired. I had everything I wanted. But it came with a price.

My once-vibrant college faith took a back seat to my career. My quiet times were mostly on the run, if they happened at all. My friendships were superficial, but I was too busy to care. My faith was shallow, but it seemed good enough.

Then I hit my thirties. A serious marriage struggle put us in counseling for years. Our infant son died. I had four miscarriages. I was diagnosed with post-polio syndrome, though the symptoms were just beginning.

When Earthly Blessings Disappear

My seemingly perfect life had taken a huge turn. I had decided to stay home full time after our first child was born, which shifted my focus from my career to being a devoted wife and mother. I made gourmet meals, took photographs of my children’s every breath, and created scrapbooks to commemorate every occasion.

I prayed for my husband and made time to be together. I planned regular family nights and homeschooled our children. I had consistent quiet times, taught women’s Bible studies, and mentored women on marriage.

My struggles forced me to lean on God, and I learned to adjust to a different life — one that was less in the limelight, but still felt accomplished. Just different priorities and accolades.

Nowhere Else to Turn

But midway through my forties, it all fell apart. My husband left for another woman, citing my inadequacies as a wife. My children rebelled in anger, highlighting my failure as a parent. Our home became a place of rage and regret, the opposite of the sanctuary it once was. My arms began failing because of post-polio, and so I had to stop cooking, scrapbooking, and hospitality so I could concentrate on self-care.

Everything I worked for was gone. The things that I valued disintegrated. There was not a shred of accomplishment I could cling to.

Those days were more painful than I can put into words. My friends and family rallied around me, but inside I was dying. Nothing I had accomplished seemed to matter.

I clung to God as I knew there was nowhere else to turn. And from that desperation came an unexpected delight in God. His presence became breathtakingly real. His word revived me daily. His voice became unmistakably clear.

My relationships with others took on a newfound authenticity. There was nothing to hide behind. I had no appearances to maintain. Everything was laid bare.

And I slowly realized this epic failure was a huge gift.

What Failure Reveals About Our Identity

As my life was tested by adversity and failure, I gained a truer sense of who I was. It was not based on my achievements. What people thought of me. What I did or had done.

My identity was based on Christ.

My successes in life never gave me security. Quite the opposite, they pressured me to keep succeeding.

But failure gave me an inner confidence. It has taught me about myself. What I could lean on. What could and would be shaken. And what was unshakable.

Amid my failures, weaknesses and losses, I understood more clearly what true blessing is. True blessing always rests in God himself.

How God Builds His Work on Our Broken Places

The Bible shows us how God uses our failures and frailties. David sinned against God when he decided to take a census, counting his people instead of counting on God. God punished him, and in David’s repentance, David built an altar on the threshing floor of Araunah the Jebusite. And it was on that very ground, the place of David’s failure and repentance, that the temple of the Lord was built.

God’s temple in Jerusalem, the holiest place where he would dwell on earth with man, was built on the ground of human failure.

We offer nothing to God. He isn’t after our success. He wants our heart. Our repentance. Our dependence on him.

Now God does not dwell in a temple made by human hands. He dwells in us. And in the same way, God’s greatest work in us is built on the ground of our failure. God does his most extraordinary work when we rely on him alone.

A Message to My Thirty-Year-Old Self

What would I tell my thirty-year-old self?

“Trust God. He is going to use everything in your life to draw you closer to him. Don’t waste your suffering, for it will be the making of your faith. And one day, as your faith becomes sight, you will be grateful for it all.”

This is adapted from an article that originally appeared on DesiringGod