It is quite time some helpful words should be spoken for
the people who fail. There are enough to sing the praises of those who
succeed. When a man is valiant, and overcomes in the battle, and stands a
victor at the close of strife, there are enough to shout the hurrahs, and to
twine the laurel for his brow. When a man prospers in business, rising to
wealth and influence, living in splendor, there are enough to do homage to
his achievements. When one has won honor in any calling, attaining eminence
and distinction, as in art or in a profession, there is no lack of voices to
speak commendation. Books are written, telling the stories of heroes who won
great victories on land or sea. Poets weave their verses into garlands of
honor for those who conquer in the world's battles. We have many volumes
filled with the world's records of men who became famous, and women who
became famous, rising from obscurity to greatness.
All this is well. But who tells the story of those who
fail? Who sings the praises of him who goes down in the fight? Who tells of
the heroism of him who is defeated in the battle, and falls wounded and
overwhelmed? When the struggle is over, and the victors come out of
the smoke and carnage in triumph, there is a jubilant shout to greet them;
but who lifts up the cheer for the men who fell and died on the field? Yet
were they any less brave than those who came unwounded from the strife? Did
the honor of the victory belong any less to them—than to those who lived to
hear the shout of conquest?
In all departments of life, there are a few who seem to
succeed, while the many seem to fail. Have all those who sink down, weary
and broken-hearted, who fall out of the ranks, unable to keep up in the
swift march, who do not get on in business, whose hopes are disappointed,
and who drop in the dust of defeat—have all those who seem to fail, really
failed?
When a great building is to be erected, deep excavations
are made, and piles of stones are laid down in the darkness, only to be
covered up and hidden out of sight by the imposing superstructure which
rises high into the air. This foundation work receives no praise. It
is not even seen by any human eye. It appears in a sense, to be wasted work;
yet we know that without it there would be no massive buildings towering in
majestic proportions in the air. Just so, many men's lives seem to be
failures, while in reality they have been built into the foundations of
great temples. Their work is covered up and hidden out of sight, and makes
no show before the world; but without it those who come after them could not
have achieved the success which makes their names bright.
For a whole generation men are experimenting along some
line; for example, in electricity. Some of them almost succeed. They
seem to be on the very edge of achieving what they are seeking; but success
persistently and narrowly eludes them, and they die at last, broken-hearted
over their failure. Then a new man arises, and takes the results of their
experiments as a starting point. He is successful, and all over the world
rings with his praises; yet he never could have brought the invention to
this triumphant issue but for the long, patient experimenting of those who
went before him, toiling, sacrificing—failing. Nearly every great discovery
or invention which has proved a blessing to the world, has had a long
history of such effort and failure behind its final success. Who will say
that the men who wrought thus so unselfishly in obscurity, and without
result or reward, really failed? They did their part in preparing the
way. Their work was essential in its place. Should they not share the songs
of victory which the world sings for the man who at last brings the
invention to triumphant completion?
Recently a man, prospecting in the mining regions of
Arizona, found a remarkable natural bridge. It spans a deep canyon,
forty-five feet in width. The bridge is made by a great agatized tree that
lies across the gorge. Scientific men say that many ages since this tree was
prostrated by some terrific storm, and fell across the canyon. By the
effects of the water and of time, it has passed through many stages of
mineralization, and is now a wonderful tree of solid agate. And there it
lies, making an agate bridge over which men may pass from side to side. This
tree seemed to be a failure when, that day in its prime, it was broken off
by the storm and hurled to the ground. But, instead of being a failure, to
what nobler use could it have been put, than thus to become a bridge of
agate, to stand for ages, and on which countless human feet may walk across
the chasm?
This fallen tree is an illustration of countless human
lives which have fallen and seemed to fail—but which in time have proved to
be bridges over which others can walk to honor, success, and triumph.
We are all daily passing over bridges built of the toils, sacrifices, and
failures of those who have gone before us. The luxury, ease, and comfort we
now enjoy—have cost other men ease, pain, and loss. We cross continually to
our blessings and privileges, our promised lands, our joys—on the bridges
built for us by those who failed!
Christ himself is the greatest example of this truth.
His life was a failure as seen on the world-side. At the age of
thirty-three it was all over, the brightest light which ever shone on the
earth, was quenched in the darkness of the cross! But now it is a bridge of
agate, over which millions are passing from sin to holiness, from sorrow to
joy, from death to life, from earth to heaven. Christ said, "I am the way—no
man comes unto the Father but by me." So his failure (humanly speaking)
became the saving of the world. It built the bridge over the chasm between
earth and heaven, on which all who are saved pass over. We live—because he
died.
So in smaller measure, it is with thousands of human
lives. They fail. They sink down in the dust and are forgotten. Their names
are lost in the indistinguishable multitude. No fame, no remembrance, is
theirs. But without them the world would have missed a portion of its
blessing—and many lives, honored now, would have missed their honor. Many a
man is living today in bright happiness—prosperous, successful, enjoying
distinction—because his parents toiled, sacrificed, and—failed. None of us
know what we owe to the past—to those who have gone before us, to the lives
that sank down in unmarked obscurity. They labored—and we are entered into
their labors.
It is doubtful if any good man can make the most possible
of his life in a worldly pursuit, and yet be a loyal Christian. He may have
brilliant powers, all the qualities that lead to success. If he were to
devote all his energies without reserve to his chosen business, he could
outstrip all his competitors, and win the highest place. But he is a
Christian; and a Christian cannot live for this world's ambition alone,
though he does it honestly and honorably, and though the ambition is
altogether worthy, and he altogether faithful to his Master. He must serve
his fellow-men as he passes through life. He must be as Christ to the
weary and stumbling ones. He must turn aside ofttimes, like the Good
Samaritan in his journey, to help those who are in need, whose cries break
upon his ear. He may not press on in his ambition, heedless of love's
duties.
Then, while he thus stays his feet to do service to those
who need sympathy and help, his competitors in the race, not troubling
themselves to heed the calls of distress about them, thinking only of
winning the goal, gain upon him, and pass him by. Men say he is foolish thus
to permit himself to fail through his heart's tenderness and sympathy. But
that is not failure which comes through pausing to comfort and bless others.
Rather it is such ministries as these which alone redeem an earthly life
from utter failure. The man who steels his heart against all appeals for
pity and help, and goes remorselessly on to the goal of his ambition,
without turning aside at the calls of need—finds no blessing in that which
he achieves. But he who seeks first the kingdom of God, stopping in his
busiest days to do good, and turning aside from his most ardent pursuits to
minister to human need or sorrow, though his hands hold less of this world
at the end—he will be rich in the reward of love's service.
Not every good man succeeds in worldly affairs. Not every
true effort which is made, has apparent success. Sometimes it is by failure
that a man can do his best. Success the undertaking can come only after many
have sunk down without attaining. Nearly always the first prophets and
heralds of a new reform must perish in defeat, thus preparing the way,
building the bridge over the chasm, for those who come after them to carry
the reform to success. But surely it is just as glorious to do one's part in
the essential preparatory stages, and then fall without sharing the
victory, as it is to have one's part at the last among the victors.
We may set it down as an unalterable truth, however, that
there can be no real failure when one is faithful to God and to duty.
Sin is always a failure. The apparent success which men build up through
unrighteousness, is only a gilded picture. It has no foundation, no
substance. It is an illusion. It will vanish in the presence of the divine
judgment, as the morning mists vanish before the rising sun. But whatever
men build up in truth and justice, is as real as God himself. All truth is
part of God, and is imperishable. No failure is possible when we with God.
"He who does the will of God abides forever." Nothing may seem to come from
the toil, the sacrifice, and the outpouring of precious life; but sometime,
somehow, somewhere, there will be a harvest from every sowing. Not one grain
of the holy seed of love can ever be lost. The life may sink away,
and seem to have perished; but from its grave will come an influence which
will be a blessing in the world. We need not care what we do, nor where we
go, nor what comes of our work—if only we do God's will.
It is sweet to see the blessing come from our serving, to
gather the fruit from our sowing, to witness the success of our work—if that
is God's will for us. But whether we have this privilege or not, it is a
comfort to know that nothing done in love and truth for God, can ever fail,
and that no service rendered in Christ's name can be in vain.