I have to admit that I struggle with perfectionism. Perhaps it is because I am a first-born, or perhaps it is because my father tended to be critical at times. Perfectionism is one of the most depressing vices, because a perfectionist is guaranteed always to fail miserably. Furthermore, out of all the people on earth, I must be one of the least likely to ever be perfect. In fact, even by everyday standards, I have had more failures in my life than successes. Some may even say that I am the poster boy for getting stuck on the lower rungs of the proverbial ladder.The other day, I gave a rather difficult sermon. I prayed before during and after. I approached my study and meditation on the passage with a sincere desire to follow the leadership of Christ. I knew that it would not necessarily be a popular topic. The week after giving it, I found myself second guessing it. Were my motive pure enough? Did I say the right things in the right way? I then remember something that my father said when I was young. My father was an associate pastor and music pastor at most of the churches that I ever attended until college. He one day told me that when he sang in church, he sometimes did not know if he sang for God or simply because he loved to sing. He said that in the end he had to trust the grace of God and that God knew his heart. I will probably never preach a perfect sermon with a perfect heart, but that is not what God asks. God asks that I put my less than perfect gifts at his feet and allow him to shape them according to his purpose. Through the power of God, even my miserable attempts to reach the heights of mediocre accomplishments can be powerful tools in the hands of God. This give me hope.
