It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a secondary school student in possession of good exam results must be in want of a university place. Or is it? We live in a society where the right to an education is protected and open (thankfully) to both young women and men. Yet we also attach to this right a host of pressures and categorisations that encourage young people to think of failure and success often in binary terms.

This week A level results are published. Students will be told whether they will be able to access the next step of their academic journey or training. My guess is that thousands of young people will feel that they have succeeded, but an equal number will feel that they have failed. How we measure success and failure, in my view, is inextricably linked to the way we engage with the world and to the opportunities set before us. We can reflect on, perhaps, how deeply our own views of success and failure are linked to our identity, and to what we feel we can contribute.

There are few things as sobering as the volcanic eruption of sadness and tears when a student does not receive the grades that they had wanted. For some this signals that they are not good enough, that they have failed as human beings. We know that this is not true, but they may feel that it is. At times like these, a young person may feel that their story (or this particular chapter at least) is fixed and the end already written.Yet, if our faith teaches us anything, as students and followers of Christ, it is this: just when we feel that the story has come to an end, we realise that it is only just beginning.

For this week, and for the many weeks to come, may we hold our failures and successes (whatever these words mean to us) before God, remembering that in this space of love, we are already whole.