Sometimes it feels like God has ripped off our training wheels.
There we are, trying to ride our big kid bike, but instead of making real progress it seems we just keep toppling over. We thought this would be cool, riding a bike on our own, but now all we want are our training wheels back.
I’m learning something that’s shaking the dust off my constantly-dreaming-of-perfection mindset.
I’m learning it’s okay to fall.
It’s okay to fail.
“Facing and admitting our failures is one way Jesus teaches us what the gospel is. Our failures show us what we really are: great sinners. But that’s not what Jesus wants us to focus on. He wants us to look to the cross and allow our failures [to] show us what Jesus is: a great Savior.” -John Piper
Failing, falling, forces us to acknowledge our weakness, our lack of muscle, our lack of ability to peddle through this thing called the Christian life by ourselves.
Perhaps God takes off the training wheels so we don’t become cocky, self-reliant adults who believe they can maintain balance on their own.
And maybe to remind us that there aren’t Olympic games for cycling with training wheels.
Adjustment to life without training wheels is necessary.
This is growth. This is sanctification. This is teaching us to lean not on training wheels but on Christ Himself.
The good news is we don’t have an absentee father (enough said) who leaves us alone to learn by ourselves. We have a Father who has made a covenant with us—signed in the blood of His Son—to never leave us or forsake us (Heb. 9:13-15, Deut. 31:6, Heb. 13:5).
Holding the bike (even when we don’t realize it).
Helping us up when we fall (even when we don’t want His help).
What we so often fail to realize is that we ride in a bubble of grace, propelled by grace and led by grace. Which means, in the end, this isn’t about our performance at all but about the One who lavishes us with grace upon grace and who tenderly and purposefully places us in situations where He is all we have.
So we can learn He is all we need.