When I had turned into the publisher a final edit of my edited book, I felt a great sense of accomplishment. Weeding out the last inconsistencies was a huge project for a non-analytic like me! When the book arrived, I milked the satisfaction, thumbing through the pages as a once-and-for-all last perusing, when my eyes caught a page with an obvious error. (——bleep!) How could I have missed it? In a series of subheadings, instead of a colon, there was a period. For the casual reader, the discrepancy should not be too hard to notice.
So it was a strange moment for me to step back from the mistake and to say something I never anticipated expressing. I gulped. Bit my lip, and voiced: “It’s perfect.” On page 242, an obvious flaw remained. As I allowed the acceptance of that flaw to sink in, I appreciated what it represented. This work, two-and-a-half years of my life, was chiseled out by the hand of a very flawed human being. One who misses things . . . who’s still trying to get it right . . . who’s in process in every area . . . and whose journey is never complete.
In proof, anyone who picks up Soul Whisperer will be forced to reckon with my signature sins. Don’t think even for a moment—that sharing that vulnerable content was anxiety free. I agonized over it, saying: Who would want to read anything from the pen of a capital “S” sinner!
When my publisher sent the manuscript to eight potential endorsers, I feared what they would think. This sense only increased, when I saw the messy, unedited PDF they got in their inbox. Yet in all this sequence, God had a message with my name on it. Neither the mess of my life or the text dissuaded them. Each, in his way, responded with praise (and not the faker kind we often see on the backs of books!). Imagine that? I was raptured with surprise.
God had showed me once again, how he works through imperfection. If we can only accept this—we’d be freed to let his light shine forth through the earthen clay. We’d be empowered to jump in fully, knowing that perfectionism is our nemesis, not our ally. We’d feel better about ourselves for our many earnest efforts, not our few triumphant trophies. We’d rise to challenges far above our reach, believing God to fill the gap . . . and being okay when he chooses not to. We’d be healthier and more balanced, kicking away the lures of escapism by basking in his infinite grace.
I wish I always got it right. But I am slowly learning that sometimes being human is enough. Period.
As always your honesty is refreshing. We are flawed, we must work at it..