Learning to see mistakes as information instead of condemnation

I’ve been thinking lately about how hard we can be on ourselves when we make a mistake or a decision that doesn’t turn out so great in the end.

You know the self-talk.

I should have known better. Why did I do that? What was I thinking? If only I had done this instead…

I’ve had plenty of these conversations with myself. Something doesn’t go the way I hoped, and almost immediately I start replaying it. I can see all the things I could have done differently, usually with the benefit of information I didn’t actually have when I initially made the decision.

Funny how that works. Looking back, things can seem so obvious.

But I’ve started wondering whether I’ve been looking at mistakes the wrong way.

I recently came across something about the way math has traditionally been taught in some Japanese classrooms that really caught my attention. Students may be given a difficult problem before they’ve been shown exactly how to solve it. They’re expected to wrestle with it, try different approaches, and yes, sometimes get it wrong. Then those attempts, including the mistakes, can become part of the class discussion. Instead of the wrong answer simply being something to erase and move past, it can help everyone understand the problem better.

I love that.

What if we learned to approach more of our lives that way, instinctively?

Instead of our first response to a mistake or unwise decision being, I can’t believe I got that wrong, what if it naturally became, Interesting. What did that just teach me?

Maybe I learned something about myself, came to understand another person better, or discovered something about a relationship or situation I couldn’t have known before. Or maybe I simply learned, Well, that approach doesn’t work.

Either way, I know something now that I didn’t know before and I think that’s the mind shift I’m after, except making it more automatic.

What if, instead of seeing every mistake as evidence that we should have known better, we began seeing it as an opportunity to discover something? What if our first response became curiosity instead of criticism?

Because really, how could we know something we didn’t know yet?

Sometimes we make choices we genuinely thought were good choices at the time. We start something new, enter a relationship, try a different approach, or take a risk. We make the best decision we can with what we know, and then somewhere along the way we discover something we couldn’t see before.

Of course, there are times when we really did know better. There are moments when we need to own what we did, apologize, make something right, or repair something that was damaged. Grace doesn’t mean pretending our choices don’t have consequences.

But even then, berating ourselves doesn’t actually help us grow. Curiosity might. Instead of asking, What is wrong with me? we can ask, Okay, what happened here? What did I learn, and what might I do differently next time?

That feels like such a different conversation and, frankly, a much kinder one. I’m trying to make that my first conversation with myself.

What if A Wrong Turn is Part of the Way?

I wonder how many things we call failures were actually part of figuring something out. We would never look at a child learning to walk, watch them tumble onto the floor and say, “Wow. You really should have known better.”

Of course they didn’t know better. They’re learning to walk.

And maybe we’re still learning to walk in more areas of our lives than we realize, or would like to admit.

I think sometimes we become who we are along the way precisely because we took the journey in the first place. The things we tried, the mistakes we made, the unexpected turns, and even the things that didn’t work all have a way of forming us into someone we might never have become if we hadn’t started walking the road at all.

We’re learning how to love people well, communicate and lead, set boundaries, listen, and handle conflict. We’re learning how to be married and how to parent, how to follow Jesus, recognize our limits and use our gifts, and how to know when to hold on and when to let go.

I’ve been doing some of those things for a long time, and I’m still discovering things I didn’t know. There are plenty of things I wish I had understood years ago.

But I didn’t.

I know them now because somewhere along the way, life taught me.

So when something doesn’t go as planned, perhaps we don’t have to immediately turn it into a verdict about ourselves. Maybe we can train ourselves to get curious first.

Well, that didn’t work. What did I just learn?

Before I start criticizing myself, I want to look for what the experience gave me.

Some experiences are genuinely painful and leave us deeply disappointed, especially when our choices, or the choices of others, come at a real cost. Looking for what we can learn doesn’t minimize what happened or mean we have to call something good that wasn’t good.

It simply means the painful thing doesn’t get the final word. Even there, I can ask, What can I see now that I couldn’t see before?

Maybe I discovered a boundary I needed, learned something about how I’m wired, or came to understand another person differently. I might have found out that a particular approach simply doesn’t work, or discovered something new about what a relationship needs from me. Sometimes an experience exposes an area where I need to mature; other times, it shows me I’m more capable than I thought.

Something might have exposed an area where I need to mature. Or maybe I discovered that I’m more capable than I thought.

Sometimes the lesson is really practical, Next time, slow down. Ask a few more questions. Get some help. Learn something you don’t know yet.

And sometimes the lesson is simply, Well, I won’t do that again.

That’s valuable too and none of this makes the experience wasted.

What didn’t work can become part of the wisdom that helps us discover what does. And that changes the way I think about mistakes.

I Think Hesed Has Something to Say About This

This is one of the reasons I love the biblical idea of hesed so much. Hesed is steadfast, faithful love that doesn’t disappear when things get messy.

And I think we desperately need that kind of love while we’re learning. We need it from one another, but we also need to learn how to extend it toward ourselves.

What would it look like to treat ourselves with enough kindness that we could actually tell the truth about our mistakes, and then become curious about what they might teach us?

Telling the truth without turning against ourselves.

I got that wrong.

I didn’t know.

I wish I had handled that differently.

I see something now that I couldn’t see then.

Next time, I’m going to try something different.

I’m finding that curiosity gives me somewhere to go, while shame mostly leaves me stuck.

And imagine what could happen if our relationships became places where other people were allowed to learn this way too.

What if our families, friendships, churches, and communities became places where mistakes didn’t automatically threaten belonging?

We could still hold one another accountable, tell the truth, and repair what needs repairing. But instead of using another person’s mistake as a verdict about who they are, we could help one another ask, What can we learn here? What needs to change? What might we try differently next time?

Of course, not everyone will be willing to take responsibility or participate in repair. When they aren’t, we can let go of trying to change their mind, set the boundaries we need, and still ask, What can I learn from this? Their unwillingness to learn doesn’t have to keep us from learning.

When people are willing, though, we can remember We’re all still learning here.

That’s hesed. Love that remains while truth gets worked out.

Hesed Pause

So maybe try this with me.

The next time something goes sideways, and I’m fairly confident we’ll get another opportunity, pay attention to where your mind goes first.

If you hear, I should have known better… stop for a moment.

Before you start berating yourself, ask, What did I just learn about myself, someone else, or this situation? What do I know now that I didn’t know before?

And then maybe ask one more question, What will I do differently because I know it now?

Take responsibility for what belongs to you, make whatever changes or repairs are needed, and ask Jesus what He wants to show you through it. But don’t miss the opportunity to learn because you’re too busy beating yourself up for not already knowing.

Maybe a part of maturity within making mistakes is learning to let them become teachers instead of judges, to stay connected, remain curious, make an adjustment, and keep going.

I’m trying to make my first response to a mistake something much simpler now, “Well, that didn’t work. What do I know now that I didn’t know before?”

And then, “What can I try differently this time?”

There’s the shift: turning what didn’t go as planned into wisdom for the road ahead.

And perhaps hesed gives us exactly the kind of love we need to keep learning along the way.