Glad I Don't Have To Be Perfect-- Hope Chronicles 67

This post is inspired by Lisa Whittle's book Behind Those Eyes: What's really going on inside the souls of women. I'm reading it as part of an on-line study over at Lelia's. Click the book cover to hop over there and get connected. We are only on chapter 2, so if you want to join the soul searching, hop right in.

Perfect. That is what we always had to be growing up. We had to look like we had it all together even when we were falling apart. At one point my dad had moved out. We actually took phone messages as if he still lived there. No one heard us argue in public. We were definitely expected to behave and excel in school. I got "in trouble" exactly twice in school. I was shy and quiet. Both times the teacher moved me to break up a ring of chatter bugs. I found myself responding when I should have been listening to the teacher. But, I only had to be told once! Neither time was a true reprimand, but I did the "eyes forward, mouth closed" routine the rest of the year.

There was also a sense of competition between me and my twin. I'd get a 94% on a test and she'd get a 98%. She did better at almost everything After 3 years of piano, I gave up because she was farther along in the books than I was. When we took violin, she sat in a higher chair than I did. When the class ranks came out our senior year, she was 9/441 and I was 13/441. Those 5 points made me feel like a failure. For me to remember something like that, means it was pretty significant in my world.

So, going to college and being out on my own, you'd think I'd be able to give up some of that perfect world. Nope. Not at all. The voice in my head is probably louder than my mom's ever was. Like so many adults, I picked up where my parents left off.

But I know I'm not perfect. I just keep up a pretty good facade. I look put together but you haven't seen my house or how much I scurry to try to hide the mail pile and other things that needed to be put away long ago.

Several years ago, I stopped going to church for awhile. Honestly, I was angry at God. If He wasn't going to step in and lend me hand then why should I go? What was the point? My life was on a down hill slide and when I had to choose, I jumped, with Satan cheering, on the red hot one labeled "Express." Whoosh! I chose to slide away from God.

About 9 months later I was a wreck. I called my doctor's office. It happened to be a Christian practice. I asked for church recommendations and said I really needed to talk to someone. They gave me 3 possibilities but only one came with a name. So, that is the one I called.

That is how I ended up at Crosswinds. But even there I kept most people at bay. In my small group I was mute. I high tailed it out as soon as service was over.

Fear ruled my life at that point. Honestly, for 6 months I didn't take communion -- convinced that God would strike with a lightening bolt from heaven if I did. I had confided in one woman there. She patiently sat with me. One day I whispered, "Do you think God will zap me if I take communion."

"No," she said. "Not at all. Will you let me serve it to you?"

I did. I still remember the flood of relief that swept over me. I had gone back to church after 9 months, but I think this prodigal daughter went back to the Father in that moment.

Do I still try to look perfect? Yeah, sometimes. Okay, since this is about getting real -- most times. But I think I am taking more and more risks to let people in and see the real me. I'm finding that I'm relieved to not have to be perfect for them. But I'm even more relieved that I don't have to be perfect for God. That's the whole point of the cross, isn't it? If we were as perfect as we may pretend at times, there would have been no need for Jesus to die for our sins.

I'm so glad I don't have to be perfect. There is hope in knowing that this wayward daughter was embraced the moment she admitted her continued need and slipped back into place at His table.