I sat alone in a room soon to be filled with a few hundred
screaming, giggling, and overjoyed high school students. Coming with a friend
up into the mountains during vacation, memories flood of the past years of
directing similar events, hoping the quiet empty room I now sit in, I will
drown out the noise shattering inside of me.
Perfection.
It’s required. Without it, you’re not first; and if you’re
not first you’re last. I’ve relived,
remembered, redone, tried to remove, and with every repeating memory,
replenished the judgment and shame on myself. A single mistake, regardless of
its significance, can cause a train wreck of internal disorder.
Growing up, trouble seemed to always be at my door. Fun was
the driving force behind every action, thought, hour, or day without concern
for rules or discipline. Nevertheless,
if punishment were to come, it couldn’t come quick enough. Once discipline made
its mark, I could move to once again look to become the best, to achieve
perfection, hoping next time, I wouldn’t spoil His plan for my life again. His plan is perfect, and to stay on His plan,
I must remain perfect as if my life is a board-game, only the perfect role will
land me on the intended space.
Easy to read, hear, think, ever difficult to truly know;
that regardless of my mistakes, I am deeply loved. Regardless of my continual
failed pursuit of perfection. I am deeply loved. Regardless of the
consequences, the brokenness I create, I am deeply loved. Regardless of how I view me, I am
forever deeply loved.
Regardless, I still don’t believe it.
I always come back to a time, sitting on bench with a close
friend. Explaining to him my impending life decision, he stopped my rambling
and gave am unforgettable slap on the wrist:
“Who do you think you are? Why do you think you are so
big? Do you really think that you are powerful enough to mess up God’s plan for
your life in one decision? Mistake or correct, pursue Him, His plan is bigger
than you.”
I want to believe it.
I will.
