Oops – that was pride slipping in there. Maybe I’m not quite perfect.

In which case, I’ve also just told a lie. (Gack!)

Oh, like you’ve never fibbed before. (Uh-oh, that wasn’t a very nice thing to say. I’m getting in deep here.)

OK, I’m not perfect. There. I’ve admitted it. (Phew! That wasn’t too hard.)

So I can’t be all that bad. (Arggh! Pride again! It just snuck up on me!)

If I had been made perfect, I’m wondering what the implications would be…

1. Being perfect, I would never sin – never hurt anybody, always do the right thing.
2. Therefore being perfect, I would have no personal understanding of what sin is.
3. Therefore being perfect, I would never have a sense of wrong-doing.
4. Therefore being perfect, I would never be aware of my separation from God.
5. Therefore being perfect, I would never understand the power of sin.
6. Therefore being perfect, I may experience sympathy, but would never experience empathy; and any compassion would be academic and patronizing.
7. Being made perfect would have removed my free will, because I would be able to do nothing but perfect things.
8. Therefore being perfect, I would never have the chance to fail. I would never have the opportunity to succeed despite myself.
9. Therefore being perfect, I would never be stretched. I would never grow.
10. Therefore (also from #8) being perfect, when God told me to do something and I did it, there would be no just reward because there was no chance I’d do the job badly or fail to do it at all.
11. Therefore being perfect, I would never experience humiliation, shame or contrition; but I would also never experience forgiveness, rebirth, reward, praise and grace.
12. Being perfect, God’s righteous perfection wouldn’t astound me, terrify me or shatter my complacency because – hey lookee! Me too!
13. In fact, being perfect, I would be self-contained, so I would have no reason to reach for God.

On the other hand:

1. Since I’m not perfect, eternal damnation is not my guaranteed end.
2. Since I’m not perfect, Perfection took compassion on me.
3. Since I’m not perfect, Perfection chose to redeem me.
4. Since I’m not perfect, Perfection perfected me.
5. Since I’m not perfect, Perfection adopted me.
6. Since I’m not perfect, Perfection uses me (yes – Because, not Despite).
7. Since I am far, far from perfection, I have a great many chances to blow it completely… Ah, but when I get it right the angels go nuts and God Himself says, “Well done!”

And that last is really where I’m headed here. Amongst other reasons, I was made imperfect in order that God could give me a piece of His action – a task that He wanted completed. And each time I fulfill a task in obedience to His design, I – Mr. Imperfect – get the pat on the back from the Everlasting King of Glory.

And that, I think, is a pretty good trade-off.

Dolores had no hobbies, made no contribution to society and rarely shared a kind word or deed in her life. I speak for the majority of her family when I say her presence will not be missed by many, very few tears will be shed and there will be no lamenting over her passing. Her family will remember Dolores and amongst ourselves we will remember her in our own way, which were mostly sad and troubling times throughout the years. We may have some fond memories of her and perhaps we will think of those times too. But I truly believe at the end of the day ALL of us will really only miss what we never had, a good and kind mother, grandmother and great-grandmother.

Wow! What a burn! This woman (who died 2 weeks ago at the age of 79) had 9 children, 19 grandchildren and 21 great-grandchildren. The obituary is real (check the background in the link above). Difficult though it is to raise 9 children, somewhere you’d have thought there would be some joy to be found. It’s hard to remain unaffected in the face of 49 little children across 3 generations. I mean, they may be an unwitting pain at times, but they scatter love and joy with abandon. Removing joy from the lives of your children to this extent takes a lot of effort.

You give what you live. If you live a mean life, you give a lot of meanness. If you life a loving life, you give a lot of love. One of God’s gifts in this area is that hurt is often forgiven, but love acts like glue to our hearts.

Which begs two questions:

1. What happened to her that she became that way? Who hurt her so very badly? Who gave her that life to live?
2. How would you like to be remembered? Are you living and giving in the way that will beget those memories?