One of the more difficult things for me this last week was seeing people I worked with during Echo. (Not my co-workers, but those who either attended or supported the conference.) For instance, on Wednesday, I worked from Watermark Church – the church that hosted the conference.
As I sat with my hand to my laptop, I saw folks passing by me that helped. My mind filled in their blank expressions with what I knew they were thinking.
- “He must have done a horrible job. That’s why he’s no longer the director.”
- “Poor guy. He’ll probably never do anything significant again.”
- “What a failure.”
Sure, they smiled and greeted me warmly, but I knew they were pitying me.
Of course you know that’s ridiculous. They probably hadn’t even heard yet that I’m no longer working with RT Creative Group. But that didn’t stop my mind from shaming me.
It’s so easy, after a failure, to feel a huge sense of shame. And you can more easily assume that everyone is looking down on you or pitying you. It can cause you to shy away from people.
But those things you’re sure they’re thinking – they aren’t thinking them. It’s your own insecurities and self-doubt. You’re just projecting it onto other people so you don’t have to face what you’re truly feeling.
So what’s the cure for shame after a failure? Time.
But you can definitely speed things up by embracing people. Don’t shy away. Instead of waiting for others to start the conversation, approach them first. As you open up to others you’ll realize they just want to see you happy. They don’t care that you failed or didn’t measure up. They just care about you.
There’s no need for shame after a failure. I’ve preached it here for a while, but I’m relearning it.
Want to relearn it with me?
This year was my first Echo, and let me just say that it was incredible both on a professional level and on a personal level. I’m grateful for the work you put in to make it what it was. And I’m just as grateful for your transparency and the things you create to help churches like mine.
If there’s any specific way that I can pray for you and your family or be an encouragement to you, please email me. <– Seriously.
Well stated, my friend. And true to my experience as well.
I know it may not feel like it, but your time at Echo wasn’t a failure. Not even close.
You led a nationally-known conference to one of its most successful years ever. You brought your unique personality and skill set to the table and used your gifts faithfully.
How is that a failure?
I’m afraid the failure lies well beyond your scope of responsibility.
You know this Jonathan, but this was a great Echo and you were a big part of it being great.
We are proud of all you did during your time here. Well worth it.
Just remember this: when you throw a rock into a pack of dogs, the one who yelps loudest is the one who got hit.