Your Excuse Is Showing
You know what really gets under my skin? When people look at where I am now and say, “Wow, you’re so lucky.” Like I just stumbled into success like some romantic comedy cliché who accidentally falls into a billionaire’s arms. Honey, if luck had anything to do with it, I’d be winning the lottery and sipping fresh-pressed juice on a private island by now.
But the truth? The truth is far messier, and so much richer. I’ve failed more times than most people have even dared to try. I say that with love (and maybe a pinch of holy sass), because behind every “lucky” moment in my life is a mountain of face-plants, rejection emails, awkward silences, and many a night spent praying with tear-streaked cheeks, wondering if I should just pack it all in and settle for a quiet life far away from all the noise.
You see, no one tells you how crushing failure can feel when it’s real and raw. How it shakes the very foundation of your faith, your confidence, your hope. How it feels like God is silent, and your dreams are slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Those are the moments that either break you or build you.
I wasn’t “lucky” to land my dream job. I applied, got knocked back, again and again, sometimes with a crushing “no” that felt like a personal judgment. I tweaked my CV, learned how to network (awkwardly, I might add), sent follow-up emails that made my heart pound like a drum, and finally, by God’s grace, got my foot in the door. It was not luck, it was relentless persistence grounded in prayer, preparation, and hope.
I wasn’t “lucky” to be skilled or confident. I started out completely clueless. I fumbled, stumbled, doubted myself, and made mistakes so obvious I wanted to crawl under a rock. I lost sleep, wondered if I was good enough, and questioned if God’s plan was really unfolding or if I was just wandering in the dark. But I showed up, put in the work, and kept going, even when every part of me screamed to quit, because I learned to lean on the truth in 2 Corinthians 12:9: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” I understood that weakness isn’t failure; it’s the place where God’s strength shines brightest.
Failure is scary. Let’s be honest. Especially in a world obsessed with highlight reels, where every stumble can feel like a public spectacle. It’s terrifying to fall flat, to be vulnerable, to admit you don’t have it all together. But here’s the brutal truth: what’s far worse than failing is not trying at all. Not risking anything. Staying stuck in the same place while you watch others move forward, calling them “lucky” because you’re afraid to step out.
The Bible reminds us in Proverbs 16:3, “Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans will be established.” Luck? That’s just preparation meeting opportunity, hand in hand with God’s timing. But the preparation? That’s on you. You have to show up. You have to be willing to fall flat, learn, grow, and rise again. And again. And again.
So here’s your push.
If you’re hesitating because failure scares you, here’s a truth I want you to hold tight: you will fail. You’ll fail spectacularly, gloriously, sometimes in ways that make you want to hide from the world for days. But that’s not the end of the story. After those falls come the getting up, the resilience, the grit, the stubborn hope that refuses to quit.
Remember Joseph? Sold into slavery, betrayed by family, forgotten in prison, yet he rose to power because he never stopped trusting God’s purpose in his pain. Or Esther, who risked everything to speak up for her people, despite the fear of failure or rejection. Their stories remind us that failure isn’t a dead end; it’s often the path to something greater.
So, when someone looks at you and says, “You’re so lucky,” smile knowingly. Because they don’t see the nights you cried, the prayers you whispered, the doubts you battled, or the courage it took to keep going. They don’t see the grace that carried you through.
Go forth and fail, boldly, bravely, beautifully. Fail in faith, knowing that every stumble is part of your story, every setback a set-up for a comeback. Your future self is already cheering you on, proud of the woman who dared to try, who refused to let fear dictate her story.
And when you finally arrive at that “lucky” moment? You’ll know it wasn’t luck at all. It was faith in action.
