Flawless Imperfection

I was raised in a New England farm family with a strong "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" mentality.  We were taught that our success or failure was our responsibility, and we did not expect things to be handed to us.  "The world does not owe you anything," we were taught.

There is value and truth to those sentiments.  The world does not owe us a thing.  God, in fact, does not owe us a thing.  It is, indeed, our responsibility to work hard for whatever it is we want. 

I am afraid, however, that I have internalized this a bit too much and have become what has been called a "John Wayne Christian."  My head and my mouth acknowledge that I am dependent upon God's mercy and grace for everything in my life, but my heart stubbornly feels the need to do it all myself.

I can think of a couple times in my life when God has gently tried correcting my heresy.  The first was one summer at Honey Rock Camp, Wheaton's Northwoods Campus.  I had a horseback riding accident (silly Billy Bob!) and suffered some bruised ribs just before we were to head out on a camping trip.  I was not supposed to carry a pack or paddle a canoe.  That meant that everyone else had to divvy up my stuff between their packs . . . literally carrying my burden.  It was humiliating, and I felt like dead weight.  But my friends didn't view it that way.  They saw it as a way to minister to me.  A little crack opened in my self-sufficient facade.

A bigger time was when I left college for a teaching job half a continent away from my family.  My meager teaching salary didn't cover my expenses, so I worked additional part-time jobs to pay the bills.  But a few times, even that wasn't enough.  So I would pray, "Lord, You brought me here.  I'm doing all I can.  You pay my bills."  And He did.  One day it was a check from my great-aunt.  Another it was a check from my college roommate's parents!  (God bless the Dees!)  And I wrote thank-you notes, telling them they had been Jesus' hands and feet to me.  I thought my dependence on God, my trust in God, was complete.

Ahhh, hubris!!!

In actuality, I am only beginning to learn, to live, this truth.  I find it relatively easy to trust God with my finances.  Even when I get a little scared, my history with his provision keeps me steady.  In fact, just today I got a call from my aunt asking if I wanted a job coordinating her church's VBS.  It pays real money!  And I love VBS.  Only God! 

Where I find it difficult to trust is with me.  I fear I am not godly enough.  I fear I'm not a good enough mom--not patient enough or calm enough or loving enough or consistent enough or . . . anything enough.  And I am afraid that my kids will be in counseling by age 12, explaining how their mom was a complete failure.

But I am beginning to see that, too, as hubris.  It is the height of pride to think that my mistakes, my flaws, my sins are so big that God is not bigger still.  I am talking about the God who spoke the universe into being, who conquered death to forgive my sins, who is coming again in victory.  And I think He's thwarted by little old me?

My God has promised to show mercy to the thousandth generation of those who fear Him, and fear Him I do.  I can trust Him.  I can trust Him with my income.  I can trust Him with my health care.  I can trust Him with my precious children.  And I can trust Him with myself, that He will not abandon the good work He has begun until it is completed . . . even if it takes my entire lifetime.

So tonight, in full awareness of all the ways that I fall short, I can go to sleep in peace, knowing that in Christ, I am flawless before the Father . . . and that He will indeed work all things together for good.  For my son.  For my daughter.  For me.