My daughter brought home a book entitled, "Messy Spirituality". The subtitle summed it all up: "God's Annoying Love for Imperfect People." When I saw this sitting on the couch, when I saw the title, I knew I had to read it. I am one of those imperfect people.
It seems that all my efforts to reform myself, to make myself more perfect, are doomed to fall short of the goal. Failure is assumed. When you live such a defeated life, you can turn in a couple of directions. You can consider yourself as a perpetual loser, always falling short of the mark, never being good enough at anything you do, never setting lofty goals or having dreams or aiming high. The other option is to understand and work within your failure, not letting it disable you. I choose the latter.
Striving for perfection seems to require a healthy dose of denial. In spite of our successes, we are all failures in one regard or another. Success in one area doesn't negate failure in other areas, and even the most perfect of lives is built around a core of moral failure. We are all sinners. We are all losers (cue up Beck). It's just that some of us don't see it or some of us refuse to acknowledge it.
I see it. I see my failures. I'll never be the kind of Christian I want to be. I'll never be able to chat up theology with the best and the brightest. I seriously doubt that I'll ever be able to have a consistent time of personal Bible study. I'll probably never have the rich prayer life I desire. I try, again and again, and I just can't do it. That doesn't mean I give up. I keep trying. More than likely, I'll keep failing.
My efforts center on certain realizations. First is realizing who I am. Second is realizing who God is.
I am a sinner. Being forgiven doesn't mean I've been recast in a perfect, flawless mold. The "new man" is not of flesh and bone in that way. I still have the same old flesh and bones. I still have a heart with some dark, inhospitable corners. It's like the old man took on a roommate, the new man, and the two are incompatible in every way. The new man tries to influence the old man to better himself and the old man does change in small ways, yet his core remains unpleasant and is prone to temper tantrums, cuss fits, vile thoughts and other unpleasantness that makes the new man not want to invite friends over.
The attitude of an optimist comes in handy here. I must look at the glass as half full. What keeps me thinking optimistic thoughts is that I know I serve a God who loves me in spite of my failures. He doesn't want me to fail, nor does he want me to give up striving for perfection. I know that when I fail, I can return home and He'll meet me at the door. He won't give me the cold shoulder. He won't change the locks. He gives me a hug and says, "Hey, there! Come on in and let's talk about your day." I'm ashamed at first. After all, I can live through a whole day without thinking about Him. Yet here He is, and it's like He couldn't wait for me to get home. I come in, we talk, and I always leave our conversations wanting to be better, somehow believing that perfection is within my grasp.
