Freedom From Perfection

Do you ever wonder why we strive for this idea of "perfection?" Do you ever stop for a second and think, "What is wrong with me?" Sometimes I don't get people. I question why they dedicate their whole lives trying to be successful, or rich, or powerful, or to live up to some expectation. From the sidelines, I sit and mock at their naive minds, yet I'm here doing exactly what they're doing. My flesh desires to be, essentially, perfect. How much scripture can I remember? How nice can I be? How much 'servant-hood' can I put under my belt? Then I read Truth, and I get a nice, little slap-in-the-face: "Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind let each of you regard one another as more important than himself; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others. Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore also God highly exalted Him, and bestowed on Him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those who are in heaven, and on earth, and under the earth, and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." - Philippians 2:3-11.

My prideful nature, my fleshly 'success,' my hypocritical ideas of expectation are laid out in shame compared to the humility and beauty of Christ. Daily, I try to attain this idea of "goodness," "greatness," or "righteousness" all in and of myself. Then, I'm reminded that none of it can be attained without Christ, without His perfect love, without His gentleness nor His sovereignty. My "idea" of perfection is worthless compared to the wisdom and righteousness of the Lord.

After the destruction, comes the freedom. Once I realize the foolishness behind that idea of 'the perfect' image, or career, or schooling, or relationship, or whatever else we can try to make perfect, I see the freedom of the Cross. I understand the freedom that I don't have to achieve this idea of perfection and success in this world. I have already gained the love and adoration of my Creator. Man oh man, does that not sound so good in light of money, or fame, or success? I have a relationship with my Father; a relationship that cannot be removed with any amount of failure or mistake. My level of worth is not dependent on this world, or my good (or bad) deeds, my imperfections, and even my sin, but is rather dependent on the grace of my God, which is unfailing and unending.

When my flesh may fail, my Spirit rejoices in the utter freedom that I am not held accountable for this level of "perfection" the world may be trying to achieve. Heck, all I have to do is surrender to the LORD, and everything will follow.

Yesterday, Today, + Tomorrow

I know I'm being pushed and tested in this season. I'm feeling the heavy weight of things pile on my shoulders, and I can't help but witness my fleshly weaknesses taking their toll. The reliance for Christ is dire more than ever in this period of unsustainable weight and a tightrope of things crossing my mind and my heart. It's difficult enough dying to myself everyday, but when you add the world it becomes a whole new level of perseverance; a level that is hard to cross, and only attainable with Jesus.

The list goes on: essay, mandatory gym hours, work today and tomorrow and the next day, this failed interview, another research paper, clean, be presentable, money, and solitude. Where is the solitude? When does the motion stop and the stillness begin? There's a fine line between going and never ceasing. As of now, it's hazy to tell which line I've crossed. Have I been going and maintaining? Or I have I forgot to rest, even for a second?

It's tough when the only time you can be alone is for the fifteen minutes you can do yoga at night and read scriptures, only to have to wake up in six hours to go to work, and then school, and then fulfill all those duties that need to be checked off the list. It begins to feel like a cycle; a never ending cycle of doing that just seems to repeat. The same emotions, the same attitudes, the same clothes, and people, and things. There has to be a time when it all stops, and I ask myself, "What sets today apart from yesterday?" It can't merely just be the date or the weather. No. It needs to be a drive. The change from today and yesterday needs to be a daily determination to be driven by Christ. When you're at your wits ends, you have the courage and righteousness to say, "Today is different because Christ was at the center, and everyday with Christ is a new day. Thus, tomorrow will, yet again, be a new day." Without that constant reminder, we'll all just get lost in the shuffle of the world, in the footsteps of the living dead trying to fulfill this sick paradox of worldly perfection and success. If we don't remember why we do it, how we do it differently, and who we're doing it for, we'll just be lost without purpose, without wisdom, without hope.

Lately, my thoughts may seem as if they're slowly forming into this recurring them of mundanity and exhaustion, but if I don't keep reminding myself of how utterly terrible it would be without my God at the center, I don't think I'd make it through to see the end. The things of this world are so fickle in comparison to the beauty, amazement, and wander of the LORD of all creation.

Thoughts

It seems as though the days have just been dragging on lately. The start of school has already been a challenge to me, and I'm finding myself moving with the steady stream of life. I'm moving like a robot to finish the next set of notes, take my next test, get to work on time, and so forth. I feel as though my arms and legs are moving, but my brain is saying, "Wait." It's been a somewhat difficult transition into this routine, and I can't say I quite like it yet. I've discovered my impatient nature and my need for an attitude adjustment. Sometimes I don't understand how Tony puts up with me, but he does and I am so thankful for that.

Everyone is talking about fall, but I still can't stop sweating when I walk outside my front door. The leaves are still green, people are still unhappy, and I'm already anticipating the end of this semester. I'm looking forward to pumpkin pie, camping trips, and light-seeing. I knew the Lord would challenge me this season, but I didn't quite think it would be in this way. My nature is coming to light, my fleshly impatience is beginning to seep through, and then I'm reminded sanctification doesn't happen easy. It doesn't just show up on your doorstep neatly wrapped with a pretty bow on top. It's more like cleaning rust; getting rid of the ugly, to uncover what we were made to be, spirit-filled.

God is showing up to me in the simple moments; the bike ride to the park, the early morning light, and the smile on a little one's face. He is revealing to me the simplicity of life in the wake of a heavy-load. Now if only I can forget about my own selfishness and begin basking in that beauty and simplicity. Instead of thinking, "It's just another week" I need to challenge myself.

"How will God use me this week?"