It really doesn’t have to be perfect. Real joy happens outside of the perfect couch, the perfect shade of lipstick, and the perfect report card.
Sure. You’ll find some sweet joy in that perfect angel food cake you pulled out of the oven, and we’ll celebrate with you when you find the perfect color for your kitchen walls.
But truest joy isn’t found in perfect. Truest joy is excavated from the rubble of your messy beautiful.
It’s been that way since the beginning, since that moment when you — once a baby — screeched onto the scene in a delivery room all those years ago.
You were born into a mess, and the room erupted in ear-splitting joy. And thanks be to God, that’s still where so much joy is still found — in the messy beautiful.
When God created the world, he called it good. Not perfect. But good.
When he made people, He called us very good. Not perfect. But very good.
Perfect came just once, because God knew we were incapable of being anything more than human. So, we the imperfect ones in our crooked humanity, got Perfect Jesus as the prize.
I’ve tried my own brand of perfect. Look where it got me: It wore me out and cracked me in two and and broke me down and stole my joy and robbed my smile. I worked hard for perfect attendance and perfect teeth and perfect performances.
And in the end, who could trust me, the walking facade?
But when I stopped expecting myself to be perfect, I could like me for who I really was. And maybe other people could, too.
There’s a fine line between excellence and perfectionism, and I want to stay on the right side of that. We’d do our souls a favor if we stopped letting our performances define us, and found freedom by settling into our identity as beloved children of God.
So, I say yes to my mess.
Because I am a human, not a Jesus.
Because I’m not Him, but I need Him.
So I’ll take my crazy morning hair, and my muffin top, and my girls’ dirty socks in the living room. I’ll take mybanged-up, loved-up kitchen table, and the fact that my pillows are never on the couch. (The girls insist on using the decorative couch pillows and throw to create a corner “nest.”)
I’ll take my half-good brownies, my crinkled smile, my crumb-covered floor, my sub-par performances.Which means I’ll take yours as well.
I promise you this: I’ll love you as you are.
We’re in this together. And together, we can take our mess. And we can take our Jesus.
And we can live in peace, forever and ever, Amen.
Did you find peace in Jennifer’s writing? Check out more in What I Learned After 40 Days With No Mirrors
Jennifer Dukes Lee used to cover crime, politics, and natural disasters as an award-winning news journalist in the Midwest. Now, Jennifer uses her reporting skills to chase after the biggest story in history: the redemptive story of Christ. Soon, her words will make their way into her debut nonfiction Christian book, Love Idol: Letting Go of Your Need for Approval – and Seeing Yourself through God’s Eyes.She and her husband live on the Lee family farm in Iowa with their two daughters.
To learn more about the author, please visit Jennifer Dukes Lee
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