FAILURE IS FOR REAL

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry; so I laughed, then I cried."

Discouragement was etched indelibly on Jims face. He spoke with urgency and only occasionally showed the trace of a smile. "Living for Christ is fine if you are on the top of the pile," he surmised with conviction, "but it's a different story when you are at the bottom."

Two years before this, I had met Jim (not his real name) when he was in high school. He had recently accepted Christ as his Savior. I'll never forget his impromptu prayers. "Lord, it's me again," he'd say. "Remember old Duncan Bell? Well, You know I don't like him, so I need all the help You can give me.

After high school Jim was accepted for Royal Canadian Mounted Police training in Canada. From the first day, he sincerely tried to be a witness to his comrades. He read his Bible, refused to share sordid jokes, and would not participate in sensual amusements. In short, he "lived for Christ," as most preachers urge us to do.

And that was the beginning of his troubles. Friends dubbed him the religious nut." Some scorned his piety. Others schemed to have him blamed for activities he did not do. He was ousted (often literally) from the games and social events of his companions.

Perhaps this is what Christians should expect. Are not the godly promised persecution? Did Christ not say that we should rejoice when we are reviled, because our reward would be great in heaven? Yes.

But one fact troubled him. In any group, one person is always first, but by necessity, one must also be last. Jim had that distinction.

He got the lowest score on examinations and barely passed in practical achievements. He was not a leader; neither did he have a winsome personality. Worse yet, he commanded little or no respect.

As we talked together, he stared aimlessly into space. "My friends are rejecting Christ, he commented, "but maybe it's just because they don't want to be like me, and on that score I don't blame them. Who'd want to be like me?" He forced a smile to hold back the tears. "I'm a failure, and I know it."

My mind raced over all those sermons I have heard about how we should do well at school or at our vocations to be a testimony." But that advice couldn't apply to Jim. God had not given him the ability to gain the respect of others by intellectual or physical accomplishments.

So I explained to Jim — or at least I tried to explain — that maybe God didn't expect as much from him as He did from others. Maybe he should accept his limitations and learn to be satisfied with his role in life. But my explanation was either deficient or unconvincing, or both.

A year later Jim committed suicide.

Shocking? Yes. I did not suspect that Jim had become that discouraged. It was the last desperate act of a Christian who believed that success was forever beyond h