The Same Thorn

Why the Fear of Failure Doesn’t Age, and How God Redeems It in Fathers and Sons

It has struck me that the fear of failure pierces men like a thorn, undeterred by age. A cruel consequence of the Fall, it can haunt us all our lives if we do not surrender it to the Lord for redemption.

On weekends, our family works to build our homestead, a first-generation farm in Texas where the land fights fiercely to reclaim its wild state, threatening to swallow our home and outbuildings. The jobs are endless but the work is good. My young children contribute what they can, but are easily distracted by the prospect of taking a break to play on the playground or ride bikes. My six-year-old daughter is mastering the monkey bars, swinging with newfound independence. But my sons, younger and not yet strong enough, struggle often to match their ambition.

Their response is the same: shoulders slump, they retreat to solitude, often ending up on a rock or the front porch step, heads bowed towards the toe of their boots. When I approach, they avoid looking me in the eye. My oldest son, barely four, points to the towering monkey bars and murmurs, “I can’t do it.” I place them on my lap or on my shoulders; reminding them that God is forging them into mighty men, that in His time, they’ll conquer far more than monkey bars. Yet, in their “failure” to match their sister, I face a mirror God holds up too often in fatherhood.

As I write, exhaustion weighs heavy. The tasks ahead feel insurmountable. Equipment breaks, and I must learn to fix it. A stray dog we rescued—hit by a car—digs up the yard. A storm felled trees, and branches clog the pond’s spillway. Tomorrow will bring new challenges, no doubt. Savoring the burn of a cigar in the quiet, I realize the difference between my sons and me is merely time: I can delay the doubt, but I cannot escape it. If I’m honest, the same question haunts me: How will I pull this off?

At first, it’s humbling to admit that, despite the years and responsibilities, the same fears grip me as my four-year-old. But in the thread that binds my sons and me, I get a glimpse of the wisdom God has been weaving all along. They are me, and I am them. We both yearn for the Father to guide us through what lies ahead. And when we doubt, fail, or fall, the answer remains unchanged.

Get up. Climb again. The fall may sting, but it strengthens you for the next try. If the ground feels too hard, your Father will catch you. He sees you through to the other side—stronger, wiser, ready for the next challenge. For God is forging you into a mighty man, and what looms like a mountain today will soon feel like nothing more than monkey bars.

—J.T. Knox