reflection, not perfection

I had worked diligently for months to memorize the list of verses and key passages required to compete in Bible Drill. It was my third year, my last year, and my twelve-year-old heart had its sights set on a perfect score.

I’d made it through the books of the Bible and the verses without a hitch, and the last challenge that stood between me and a flawless scorecard was finding all the key passages.

The drill was simple. A passage of scripture was called, the drillers had a set number of seconds to flip to it, step over the line, and then risk being called on to read the text. It was a true test of character, the honor system really, because only one person was called on each time.

I flipped the pages of my Bible, racing to get to the passage but my fingers fumbled over the pages and I didn’t make in time.

There it went. My last and final chance ever to receive a perfect score. I’d failed.

I came home that night, heart sunk to the bottom of my chest. As I crawled into bed, I found a note tucked beside my pillow.

“Dad and I are so proud of you. You’ve done a super job in Bible Drill. The whole purpose is to put God’s word in your heart, and some day those verses will hold a very special place to help you through some very rough times. Love, Mom.”

I spent much of my life attempting to live out my faith in perfection. Don’t slip up. Don’t make a mistake. Don’t do the wrong thing, say the wrong thing, or go to the wrong places. And definitely don’t let anyone glimpse my weaknesses or know I struggle with sin.

Surely, that was the best way to prove my faithfulness to God. The authenticity of my faith. Because I just wanted to make Him proud, and the last thing I desired was to give Him a bad name.

There finally came a breakpoint and my mom’s wisdom proved true. Because when those really rough times crashed against my shoreline, it wasn’t an old perfect Bible Drill score card that kept me afloat. It was God’s words, breathing life into my collapsing lungs, that held me up. And as He put the pieces back together, I began to realize that God never expected perfection of me.

In his letter to the church at Corinth, Paul says “whenever someone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away… all of us who have had that veil removed can see and reflect the glory of the Lord. And the Lord – who is the Spirit – makes us more and more like him as we are changed into his glorious image.” (2 Corinthians 3:17-18)

That’s the goal right there. The litmus test isn’t my attempt at perfection. It’s all about whose glory I’m reflecting.

And it’s a process, you know. One that lasts our entire lifetime.

But as we daily turn to the Lord, allowing His Spirit to transform us, we become more and more like Him.

And that, my friend, is the whole purpose, after all.