Wrinkles, Cracks and Other Signs of Perfect

Our culture seems to have gone off the deep end in search of perfection. I saw an article describing how more and more engaged couples are jointly undergoing cosmetic surgery to look perfect for their wedding. I don’t know whether that is tragic or funny. Maybe it’s both. You finally find the person who loves you just as you are, and as you prepare publicly to proclaim your love for one another you undergo an elective procedure so that you’ll look good enough for other people to see you. As if American culture wasn’t spending enough on wedding budgets . . . invitations, flowers, gowns, catering, photographs, manicures, tuxedoes . . . and now tummy tucks and rhinoplasty. . . all in pursuit of the perfect day. The only problem is that no day is perfect. No marriage is perfect. No person is perfect.

Author Anna Quindlen identified the problem of the pursuit of
perfection in a commencement speech at Mt. Holyoke, a women’s college.
She spoke about her own quest for perfection while she was in college. She
said:

I got up every day and tried to be perfect in every possible way. If there was
a test to be had, I had studied for it; if there was a paper to be written, it was
done. I smiled at everyone in the dorm hallways, because it was important to
be friendly, and I made fun of them behind their backs because it was
important to be witty. And I worked as a residence counselor and sat on
housing council. If anyone had ever stopped and asked me why I did those
things--well, I'm not sure what I would have said. But I can tell you, today,
that I did them to be perfect, in every possible way.

There are tragic implications for the quest for perfection among young women. I think of anorexia . . . when young people who want to be perfect fail to eat and can starve themselves to death.

Paul wrote these words in his second letter to Corinth, but I think they apply: “We have this treasure in earthen vessels.” Your transition may say “clay pots” or even “cracked pots.”

It reminds me of a story: A water bearer in India had two large pots. The pots hung on either
end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it. The other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master’s house. The cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily. Each day the water bearer delivered only one and a half pots full of water in his master’s house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection and miserable that it was only able to accomplish half of what it had been created to do. After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, the cracked pot spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you.” “Why?” asked the water bearer. “What are you ashamed of?” “I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don’t get full value from your efforts,” the pot said. The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, “As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.” He was right. As they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure. The bearer said to the pot,” Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not the other pot’s side? That’s because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master’s table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house.”

We have this treasure in cracked pots.

Like the cracked water jar . . . there were things I can’t do, but I can do something beautiful with what I have and who I am. I don't feel perfect . . . but I am perfectly being who I am.

That’s the good news that Christians have to share with the world. It’s not about being perfect. It’s not about being perfectly flawless. It’s not about being perfectly beautiful or perfectly successful. We can’t be that kind of perfect. In fact, that’s why God sent Jesus . . . because none of us are that kind of perfect . . . none of us can be good enough to earn our way to God. So God comes to us. Because of Jesus we don’t have to be perfect. Instead we can just be loved.
And when we get that . . . when we get that we are beloved . . . loved perfectly . . . we are set free to be ourselves . . . to become who God uniquely made us to be . . . to become perfectly ourselves.

Maybe that’s what Paul wants us to understand. . . that the perfection isn’t in the container . . . it isn’t in the clay jar. The perfection is the treasure that is within. . . Christ alive in us . . . guiding us to embrace what is truly important. And through Jesus Christ God sees you as you are . . . forgiven and free. . . in your own way, perfect. Is there anything better than that?