I have so many things to work on, and so many ways that I fail.

The words of Tim Tebow are not those of a man boasting of victories, but of one humbled by his own frailty: “I have so many things to work on, and so many ways that I fail. But that’s what grace is all about. And I constantly wake up every morning trying to get better, trying to improve, trying to walk closer to God.” These words carry the fragrance of humility, the strength of perseverance, and the light of faith. They are not merely about sport or labor but about the eternal pilgrimage of the human soul.

The ancients understood that man is a creature of imperfection, forever striving yet forever falling short. The Greeks spoke of hubris—pride that blinded even the greatest heroes. The Scriptures, too, echo this truth: “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” Tebow admits openly that he is no exception, that despite strength and discipline, he is beset by weakness and error. Yet he also lifts his gaze higher, pointing to grace, that divine gift which redeems failure and transforms it into growth.

Think of the Apostle Peter, bold yet broken. He vowed to stand beside Christ unto death, yet three times he denied Him in fear. His failure was bitter, his shame heavy, yet through grace he was restored, becoming a rock upon which the Church was built. This is the very lesson Tebow echoes: that stumbling does not end the journey if one rises again, renewed by mercy and guided by faith. It is not the absence of failure that makes a life holy, but the courage to keep seeking God after each fall.

Tebow speaks of the morning, and here is a deep symbol. Each dawn is both a gift and a summons. The sun rises not only upon the earth but upon the soul, declaring: “Begin again.” Yesterday’s defeats need not bind today’s steps. In every sunrise, there lies a chance to grow closer to the divine, to shed the weight of past errors, to improve not in perfection of skill alone, but in tenderness, patience, and love.

Let us not mistake his words as belonging only to athletes or the devout. They belong to every man and woman who has known failure—whether in work, in love, in friendship, or in keeping faith with themselves. Tebow’s testimony is a reminder that the path of life is not straight but winding, not unbroken but marked with falls. And yet, with grace, each fall becomes a step toward wisdom, each weakness a door to humility, each morning an invitation to rise anew.

The lesson is as clear as it is eternal: do not despise your failures. Do not surrender when faced with weakness. Instead, embrace them as teachers, and seek the grace that turns wounds into wisdom. Practical actions flow from this truth: begin each day with reflection, even a brief prayer or meditation. Write down where you faltered, but also where you long to grow. Set before yourself not the impossible demand of flawlessness, but the steady pursuit of progress.

For those who long to walk closer to God, remember that it is not the leap of the perfect soul that pleases Him, but the stumbling step of the faithful who rise again. In your work, your family, your hidden battles, let each morning be your altar, and each effort—no matter how small—be your offering. Grace is not the crown of the flawless; it is the companion of the striving.

Therefore, carry Tebow’s wisdom in your heart: confess your weakness, embrace your work, and never cease to rise with the dawn. For every morning is both a chance to fail again and a chance to rise again—and in that rhythm of falling and rising, of striving and receiving, the soul is slowly drawn closer to God.