'God Has Not Called Me to Be Successful': The Freedom of Faithfulness

Inspired by St. Teresa of Calcutta, a reflection on why faithfulness — not results — is the true mark of Christian mission.

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By Meg Stout

In the world, success is the standard of all things worth doing. It exerts such quiet authority over our thinking that even our noblest efforts are instinctively weighed by their results. Even if we are, by some extraordinary grace, completely purified of vainglory, we still want that to which we are devoted to achieve the ends we have in mind. So it is even within the Church.

In fact, in the Church, this can be even more difficult because we are doing God’s work.

Evangelization and ministry are good and necessary. Of course, we want it to be successful for God’s glory. How do we measure success? Usually by numbers: Mass counts, event attendance, offertory totals and longer Confession lines. Growing numbers are encouraging. If we are honest, it’s kind of the dream, isn’t it?

But it doesn’t always happen. We might realize we didn’t plan or execute well. A humble look at ourselves is important; sometimes, we just have to do better. But the truth is, we can do everything right and still not achieve the results we had in mind. We just don’t “succeed.” When we try to evangelize, I think we feel this deeply. We love Jesus, we love his Church, we love others. When things don’t go the way we want, we can get frustrated or lose heart.

Faithfulness

But have courage! Remember the famous words of St. Teresa of Calcutta, “God has not called me to be successful; he has called me to be faithful.” We are called to faithfulness, the same faithfulness Jesus had to the Father. You might even say that Jesus wasn’t “successful” — but he was perfectly faithful, even unto death. 

Pope Benedict XVI, then Cardinal Ratzinger, makes that point well in Theology of the Liturgy: “From the worldly point of view, [Jesus] did fail in the first instance: he died almost abandoned; he was condemned on account of his preaching. The response to his message was not the great 'yes' of his people, but the Cross. From such an end, we should conclude that success is definitively not one of the names of God and that it is not Christian to have an eye to outward success or numbers. God’s paths are other than that: his success comes about through the Cross and is always found under that sign” (p. 259).

Developing a Sense of Mystery

Shifting our mindset away from success or numbers toward God’s “other paths” is a profound yet necessary shift. Our zeal drives us to want to accomplish our goals, which are often good and holy. But we must detach from our own vision and adopt a supernatural one. A supernatural vision changes how we see. It gives us an interior certainty that God is able to act in every situation and to bring about good fruit, even when our work doesn’t seem to succeed. Pope Francis calls this certainty a sense of mystery.

“It involves knowing with certitude that all those who entrust themselves to God in love will bear good fruit (cf. John 15:5). This fruitfulness is often invisible, elusive and unquantifiable. ... We may be sure that none of our acts of love will be lost, nor any of our acts of sincere concern for others. No single act of love for God will be lost, no generous effort is meaningless, no painful endurance is wasted. All of these encircle our world like a vital force. … It may be that the Lord uses our sacrifices to shower blessings in another part of the world which we will never visit” (Evangelii Gaudium 279).

It is beautiful to reflect on God’s attentiveness. He sees our faithfulness and wastes nothing. He honors every gift we give, no matter how small or pitiful in the eyes of the world. Only our commitment is necessary. If we are faithful, we are assured that we will be fruitful. St. Paul encourages us: “Therefore, my beloved brothers, be firm, steadfast, always fully devoted to the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:58).

For God’s mission (and even our own peace), we must cultivate this sense of mystery; this certitude that the Holy Spirit works as he wills, when he wills and where he wills. Even when it might not look like our way, his will is being accomplished (cf. Isaiah 55:9-11). 

An important virtue to develop that serves this sense of mystery is docility, which requires a certain detachment. Docility means having a humble, teachable disposition. Docility can be especially difficult to practice when our goals are good in and of themselves. We feel justified in our desires, and we are blinded to the work God wants to accomplish. 

Thus, we should “make an effort not to ‘hang on to’ anything, either materially, or affectively, or even spiritually. … We need to keep our hearts in an attitude of detachment, maintaining a sort of freedom, a distance, an inner reserve, that will mean that if some particular thing, or habit, or relationship or personal plan is taken from us, we don’t make a drama out of being deprived of it” (In the School of the Holy Spirit, p. 35). Through it all, we must renew our commitment, knowing that our faithfulness pleases God and bears fruit in accordance with his will.

Resting in the Father’s Tenderness

Facing apparent failure can be difficult, both emotionally and spiritually, and can wear on those trying to evangelize. What’s more, we often find our identity in our mission — we are our work. That is disordered. Our identity and our worth are not found in what we do; they are found in the Father’s love for us. We are sons and daughters. We do not earn love through success; we are loved in relationship. Pope Francis directs us:

“Let us learn to rest in the tenderness of the arms of the Father amid our creative and generous commitment. Let us keep marching forward; let us give him everything, allowing him to make our efforts bear fruit in his good time” (EG 279).

We can make a habit of placing every (apparent) failure and success — and especially our very selves — into the arms of the Father. We can cast our worries on him because he cares for us (cf. 1 Peter 5:7). When we give him everything, we can receive the rest that he wants to give us. It is in giving ourselves to Jesus that fruit is brought forth: “Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit, because without me you can do nothing” (John 15:5).