In June of 1986 I became a Christian. It was going to be perfect. I was going to pray and read the bible every day. I was going to attend church weekly, love everybody, never get angry, stop speeding, never drink to excess and not swear. It’s been 25 years; I’ll let you know when I’ve arrived.
I also wanted to be the perfect wife. For the first three months of marriage, I was a total cow as I tried to cope with constant sleep deprivation. As a light sleeper the very existence of another human in the bed kept me awake and it didn’t help that John slept on his back with his arms criss-crossed over his chest like some freaky Egyptian mummy. Once or twice when I was angry I threw the TV remote at my husband and I did a number 2 on the side of the Hume Highway after our car broke down driving back from Sydney. Lovely, just lovely.
Despite my previous failures at perfection I was still determined to be the perfect mother. I was going to be loving and kind and never dispense discipline in anger or let the TV baby-sit my child. Trips to McDonalds were going to be rare and freshly baked muffins would flow. My child would have a perfectly balanced diet and I was going to home school her. Recently I experienced unspeakable joy as I delivered my daughter to the local Primary school, Aldi’s chicken nuggets are a regular fixture and I suffer from eat- your- vegetables battle fatigue. McDonalds have supplied us with at least 100 kid pack toys and I have baked maybe 3 dozen muffins in the last 5 years. I really should start paying the TV $12 bucks an hour and finally I yell, a lot.
I am clearly not perfect and the pursuit of perfection in any part of my life has only produced a sense of failure, heaviness and weariness in my heart. And to the unchurched world it has been perceived as self righteousness and judgement.
I understand now that God did not design me to be a ‘Sherpa’. That I haven’t been built to carry perfection and I really need to get down off the cross so that Jesus can have the wood back.
I need to live a real life, which reveals real problems and real struggles so that real people can relate to me and then they can be real too. I am taking off my ‘mask of perfection’ and smashing it on the ground forever because all it has ever done is hide the one true, real, perfect Saviour that lives inside of me. I know I’m not alone so consider this an invitation to smash yours too and let’s be see through together.
Over and Out.
Catherine xo
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