Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance (James 1:2-3).

TODAY, I’d like to talk about how you’re getting better.

Say it out loud, “I’m getting better!”

Have you ever taken a test in school?

All my life, I never liked tests. Because I kept failing in them.

Whenever I fail in my tests, automatically, I get a label (called a grade)—very clearly written on my test paper—sometimes in thick bold red marks, “Fail”. Ouch.

In school, we’re taught to avoid failure like a plague. But if you look at real life, success can only come from failing again and again and again. We should never avoid failure. If you want to succeed, you’ve got to embrace failure.

Because we homeschool our sons, they take tests in a very different way. If my boy fails an exam, I don’t grade him. I just tell him, “You’re getting better. Here’s where you made a mistake. Here’s how to do it correctly. Okay, take it again…”

When he takes the exam again, and there’s still a mistake, I just point it out and tell him, “You’re getting better. Just do it again.” Ultimately, he perfects the exam. That’s when I grade him and write down in thick bold red marks, “You’re Amazing!”

Are you failing now in an area in your life? Don’t label yourself as a failure. You just have to do it again. And again. And again. Because deep within you, God has already written down in your spirit, “You’re Amazing!”

Don’t give up.

Persevere!

You’re Getting Better

Before each of my sons turned 7 years old, I created a special ritual of manhood.

One of the problems of modern society is that we have no rituals of manhood. So you have lots of guys in their 20s and 30s and 40s who are acting like 12-year-old kids. Their body grew older, but their character never grew up.

What was this manhood ritual? We gathered all the men of the family to welcome the little guy. We had prayers and Bible readings. But before the ceremony, I asked him to do a simple test of courage.

I told my boy, “Son, you’re walking to Lolo’s (grandfather) house—alone.” He never did that before—as he always had a companion.

My son was scared but my wife was even more terrified. Even if Lolo’s house was only 12 minutes away. And I couldn’t blame her. I would too if I had her backstory. And her backstory was gruesome.

When my wife was a small girl, she saw her 9-year-old brother hit by a car—and he went to Heaven.

So when she heard of my plan to let our 6-year-old son walk alone on the street, she screamed, “Nooooooo!”

But I told her, “Sweetheart, at a certain point, he’s got to do it. If he won’t do it, when will he learn to cross the street?”

She said, “When he’s 27!”

But after much coaxing on my part, she finally agreed to my plan, but on one condition. She will let our son walk alone on the street if she first gives him a two-day orientation seminar on how to cross the street.

The seminar went this way: She said, “Son, before you cross the street, you stop. You don’t slow down; you make a full stop. And then you look to your right and look to your left. After that, does that mean you already cross the street? Noooooo. You look again to the right and to the left. After that, does that mean you already cross the street? Noooooo. For the third time, look again to the right and to the left. And when you don’t see a single car on the road, that’s the time you can cross the street.”

I told her, “Sweetheart, if he follows that rule, he’ll be 75 years old before he can cross the street.”

You might be saying now, “Bo, the test is so easy. Walking alone to his Lolo’s house? Your son is too sheltered. That’s peanuts for my kid. My 6-year-old son can walk from Makati to Baguio all by himself.”

Hey, then choose another manhood test: Let your son walk to Manila zoo, jump into the lion’s cage, and with his bare hands, pull one rotten tooth from the lion.

Finally, it was time. I told my son, “Go now to Lolo’s house…”

My wife said, “Not yet!” and hugged him for two hours, gave him a Bible, a rosary, a compass, a water bottle, a first-aid kit, a knapsack filled with food good for three days, a wooden stick to shoo away stray dogs, lathered him with sunblock lotion, sprayed every square inch of his body with anti-mosquito repellent, and tucked in a cellphone in his pocket in case of any emergency.

I told her, “Sweetheart, your son is going to Lolo’s house. He’s not going to Afghanistan.”

But she didn’t hear me. She tearfully hugged him again for two more hours. And then turned away and said, “Okay go now, before I change my mind…”

Before my little boy finally walked off, I saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. His first steps were tentative. His eyes darted right and left. And before turning the corner and disappearing from our sight, he stopped and looked back home. At that point, I thought he was going to give up. At that point, I thought he was going to run back home and say he couldn’t do it.

But he turned right and kept walking. Believe me, that was the longest 12 minutes of our life. And sure enough, 12 minutes later, my then-6-year-old arrived in Lolo’s house.

Perhaps right now, you’re going through your own test. And perhaps you’re losing hope. You’re wondering whether you should just give up, throw in the towel, and turn back.

But I urge you—Press On. Because you’re getting better.

May your dreams come true,

Bo Sanchez