Refuge of Grace

I’m a perfectionist. Through and through. I crave order, things in place, perfectly crafted meals, precisely poured coffee, and a made bed complete with decorative pillows. I am also a mom of two young kids who love creating and playing. When a perfectionist mom collides with spur-of-the moment children, tension often overflows. If you can relate, friend, don’t lose hope. His grace fills the pages of our perfection-driven lives, even in imperfection, reminding us to cling with hope to Jesus, the only One who is truly perfect.

On this particular evening, God graciously loosened perfection’s tight grip, reminding me imperfections are part of life, this side of heaven. The kids are tucked in and my husband is with friends; I am on my own. After taming the dish pile in our kitchen-turned train yard for Thomas the Train, I have the perfect night planned (I mean, I’m a perfectionist, what did you expect?): check the garden, bring in the perfectly grown plants, wash them, take a picture to remind myself how rewarding gardening is, go take a hot bubble bath, and then listen to an audiobook while I sit in stillness.

Something you should know is, just recently, have I actually given myself permission to even find rest in a night like this. Normally, I would spend the evening scrolling social media and then feeling bad I am not doing all I see in others’ perfect feeds.

Instead, however, I stand in our kitchen, grasping our tiny garden harvest: fresh kale, romaine, cilantro, and dill. This moment feels perfect and then, I notice the imperfections. The brown fringing the outside of the cilantro leaf, a hole punched through a kale leaf perhaps by the mouth of a hungry insect, and dirt speckling the green leaf of romaine.

Immediately, the imperfections catapult toward me: the winding wooden train set crowding the already small space, the magnets sprawled across the refrigerator door, a milky smudge on the tile covered in dirt tracked in from tiny and large feet alike. I am tempted to let the deluge of imperfections overwhelm me, counting this night as a failure, opening up my phone to binge on others’ perfection. And honestly, on this particular night, I’m not sure how I responded.

However, now, I realize the sweet grace of this moment. Imperfections reveal our deep need for Someone truly perfect and our yearning for true restoration of our world. No matter how hard we try, we will never be perfect and everything around us also falls short of perfection. Only one perfect human walked our earth, Jesus Christ (Hebrews 4:15). And one day, He will return, and God will make all things new (Revelation 21:5).

We need Jesus and the hope of His return, as we imperfectly struggle through life this side of heaven. The hymn, “Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus,” so beautifully crafted by William J. Kirkpatrick and Louisa M. R. Stead, comes to mind:

“‘Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus
Just to take Him at His Word
Just to rest upon His promise
Just to know, ‘Thus saith the Lord.’”

Hymn: “‘Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus”

Jesus truly takes the bitterness of imperfection, replacing it with sweet-tasting grace and hope. It truly is sweet to trust in Him.

Let’s open-handedly surrender our lives, in spite of the smudge-filled, wilted-leaf, brown-fringed imperfections. As we notice our imperfections and the dissonance of life around us, let’s not lose hope. Instead, let’s cling with hope daily to our Savior, knowing perfection is yet to come.