It is 358am and I have decided to write. Context matters. Our context matters when we write and read. We could read the same thing and get different meanings. Definitions matter also. We may define things differently. For example, what is success? What is failure? Also, do I just define success and say that anything that is not success is failure? What about something like the success of failure? What does that mean? My friend Chatty tells me that this is something writers, philosophers, and even scientists keep rediscovering: meaning is not fixed—it is negotiated by context and definition. Life is a stew of success and failure and in between but never one or the other. We see what we are looking for and things become what we see. This reminds me of something I came across online, "Whoever looks for the good qualities in others will acquire all good qualities within himself," from Habib Umar Bin Hafiz. Do you look for failure or success within others?
Take context as the lens. When I write, I am not just putting words on a page—I am placing them inside my moment: my mood, history, questions, wounds, hopes. When someone reads, they bring their moment. So the text is not a container of meaning; it is more like a meeting place. That is why two people can read the same sentence and walk away with different truths—and both can be honest. Take definitions as power. To define something is an act of authority. If I define success narrowly—money, completion, approval—then everything outside that boundary becomes "failure" by default. But that is not a neutral outcome; it is a choice I made upstream. This is why definitions matter more than conclusions. Once I define success as growth, clarity, or integrity, whole categories of "failure" dissolve.
Failure is not necessarily the opposite of success; it can be a process, a movement, or a teacher, often enabling growth that success alone cannot. The "success of failure" refers to failure's ability to clarify, redirect, and deepen understanding, making it fertile rather than final. Writing, especially in reflective moments, is less about resolving these tensions and more about naming them truthfully. So we have to be mindful of the way we label things, situations and people. Do you see yourself as a failure or as someone who is trying? Maybe you started with a difficult hand of cards. Maybe you did the job of paving the way for others. You failed so others would not have to. Leave it up to God to say whether it is failure or success. God wants us to succeed. God wants us to win. Instead of giving up, think about giving your struggles to God. What we call failure may simply be a chapter still being written and held by a wisdom larger than our own.
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