On Being Perfect

Our early morning car trips to the bus have become a sacred place for me with my kids. We usually drive out of the house toward the bus stop and have about five to seven minutes in the car while we wait. I’m not sure how it happened, but the ride and subsequent wait have become most dear to me. We’re still not quite awake and yet, we’re awake enough to enjoy a few minutes of conversation. I try to read a Psalm to them – to orient them toward God. Nothing major, but enough for them to hopefully see how important it is for us to look out of ourselves at the start of the day.

The other morning when we were waiting for the bus to arrive, and after I’d read the morning Psalm, Emma asked an interesting spiritual question. “Was Jesus perfect?”

I stared out the window for a moment. “Yes, I believe he was,” I said. “But probably not how you would think.”

“How then?” Her big brown eyes focused on me, and Lucas turned, interested in my answer.

“I think Jesus lived a sinless life, but I think it was different than how we imagine it.” I paused and grappled with explaining my spiritual musings in a way that my children would understand them. “We think of sin as specific acts. Things we do that we aren’t supposed to do. And even though this is true, it’s also limited.” I turned back at Emma. “You know how sometimes Lucas will offer to help you and you flip your hand out, and cock your hip to the side, and say .. ‘I’m fine. I don’t need your help!'”

She bowed her head, sheepishly. “Yes. I do that.”

“Sometimes we do that to God. We hold out our hand and say, ‘I’m fine. I don’t need your help.'” I took a breath, ran my hands across the steering wheel, and tried to explain it in a way that would make sense. “Jesus never did that to God. He never held out his hand and told God he didn’t need him. He never pushed God out of his life. He never tried to do something to prove himself to anyone. He lived his life with God through everything. That’s what made him perfect. He was whole. His wholeness came from living in active dependance on God.”

I currently live in a house with another family. They have grown kids coming and going. I have young children coming and going. We all have friends coming and going. It’s a big place. We call it The Boarding House. We share a communal kitchen where there’s this beautiful fireplace with gorgeous stones and a big kitchen island, and a perfectly large stove to cook on, which I broke the other day. (Yikes.)

Anyway, the other morning, I walked downstairs to get a cup of coffee and there was a stranger in the kitchen. Apparently, one of Tricia’s friends. I knew of her, but hadn’t yet met her. Eventually, it came out that I’d just lived in Chile for three years. She wondered how that had been, what the people were like, and we ended up in a conversation about how I feel like many Americans are trying to live as if they’re smack dab in the middle of a Pottery Barn magazine and it’s killing them. The pressure to be perfect. To have it all together. To be enough for every damn person in our lives. And we’re starting to crack.

Jesus being perfect wasn’t about him knowing how to do everything perfectly, or being so nice that everybody liked him. It wasn’t about having a bigger audience, or having more power, or even more money. Nor was it about being loved and appreciated by everyone. In fact, lots of people hated him. He rankled feathers everywhere he went. Every time people thought they had a handle on how he acted, on what to expect, he surprised them. This is because God is surprising. If you spend your time listening to God, and figure out how to catch the sound of heaven, life will inevitably become a paradox to you, a big mystery. But also … over time, you’ll stop making decisions based on what everyone wants you to do and you’ll learn how to make decisions from the center, from a grounded place of truth. You’ll learn to live from that same center, from a place of being loved rather than having to earn love. Your life will become more open-hearted and audacious, maybe a bit less afraid of tomorrow. You also will begin to see people the way Jesus saw them: as valuable. Every. Single. One. But, it won’t look like a picture in a magazine. It will still be messy.

For me, it really comes down to one prayer. “Please help me. Please help me live my life. I can’t do this without you. Please come.” 

And He does. God helps. He strengthens. He gives courage and love. He brings friends who are his hands and feet. He brings creative provision. And somehow, against everything we are absolutely sure will happen, he shows us the way through – not to a picture perfect life, but to real life.

God makes us real.