Perfection 04/29/2010
 
 Perfection is binding. Like the chains that keep a slave from freedom, our belief that our beauty is found in our perfection keeps us from the truth. Perfection is a standard that I can’t live up to and one that never fails to leave me frustrated and upset. But, I had a wonderful revelation the other day. My imperfections don’t prevent me from being beautiful. For so long, I’ve thought “How could my inability – my failures, my flaws, the very things that make me feel ashamed and unworthy of love – make me beautiful?” I couldn’t understand that they aren’t the same. See, I hated my imperfections and, expecting others to as well, I was always apologizing in my head to everyone I met because I wasn’t good enough.  My feelings of inadequacy conflicted with my desire to be a part of something amazing, to be someone of worth. But guess what? The more I consider what the true definitions of perfection and beauty, the more I realize that my imperfections make me beautiful.

 

If you were to evaluate an artistic masterpiece with a discerning eye, you would be hard pressed to find perfection. In fact, you could measure every aspect of that piece and you would see imperfection. Sides aren’t parallel. Colors aren’t precise. Composition isn’t exact. But there’s no doubt in your mind that you are standing before something truly beautiful. People are the same. We are, in fact, living, breathing, priceless works of art. To really believe this, I had to encounter a loving God, who spoke the truth to me. And the truth is this: He is the only one who can see me from the inside out. And, seeing the whole me, full of imperfection, He still calls me beautiful.
 


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