Nobody enjoys failure. And no one seeks it out. But without it, there is no growth, no learning, no success. This is obvious to everyone, at least until someone applies the principle politically. If you do this, you are a heartless, naive, right-wing brute. But that judgment itself defies common sense.

My colleague Brian Brenberg recently wrote at First Things the following reflection on our recent economic turbulence and the suffering it has brought to many:

“Winston Churchill probably hated every one of the bumps that made his life’s road so inspiring. But he also knew that winning and losing are inseparable. ‘Success,’ he said, ‘is going from failure to failure without losing your enthusiasm.’ It’s not fun to fail, but it’s inevitable. . . . The sooner you get used to dealing with things going wrong, the sooner you can get on with the business of finding ways to make things go right. . . .

“Right now, nearly 15 million unemployed Americans need to figure out what’s next. A great place to start would be to think about what went wrong last time. Do I need a new set of more marketable skills? Do I need to look for a new industry or field? The problem with our current economic policy is that we’re anesthetizing our failures with bailouts and stimulus and emergency aid, all of which leave us insensible to what’s really gone wrong. Solving a problem begins with recognizing that one exists. For many of us, that means feeling a bit more discomfort than our bailouts and stimulus and emergency aid have allowed.”

We all begin life as failures, because we start out as children, learning our lessons the hard way. But thankfully we also come equipped with a childish enthusiasm that carries us through to success we call maturity. There’s no controversy in this.

But when it comes to adult life, many of our fellow citizens want to protect everyone against the pain associated with failure, and thus forego its personal and societal benefits. For some people, politicians need nothing more than a sob story to justify a new federal entitlement program. The other side of flocking to Leviathan to escape any and every unpleasantness in life is a distrust of God to give grace in times of trial and to sanctify our sufferings.

Brenberg’s thoughts on the economy drew this petulant remark from a reader (remember, this is presumably a First Things reader):

“Wow. Our entire financial structure teetered on the edge of collapse in 2008. If it had failed, most people would have found themselves unemployed and their life savings wiped out. Yea. They would have learned a lot about failure—it stinks. There’s a slight difference between not getting into the school of your choice [Brenberg mentions Warren Buffet and Tom Brokaw each being turned down at Harvard] and losing your life savings, your job, your health, or the breadwinner in your family.”

Some of our lives include terrible tragedy, but that’s not what Brenberg has in mind. Nonetheless, whether being turned down by your top choice for college or facing a terrible disease, Christians understand that they are not alone when they pass through these valleys. Indeed, even the dark valleys are the Lord’s valleys, and thus his loving providence for his people. “I form the light and create darkness, I bring prosperity and create disaster; I, the LORD, do all these things” (Isaiah 45:7).

Terrible suffering is rich with divinely appointed purpose. That does not mean we simply leave people to their lot. (“Pick yourself up and learn from it!”) Some of it is the government’s business (threats to life), and some of it is yours as a caring neighbor.

All the same, there would be no America if there had not been people willing to risk failure and seek accomplishment even in the full expectation of terrible suffering. The Pilgrims faced the Atlantic Ocean, the American wilderness, freezing, and disease. The Western settlers faced equally great hardship. America’s strength has always been in the creating and redeeming God who brings blessing out of suffering, and in people’s willingness to accept that failure is not fatal, but a necessary part of adult accomplishment.