The Perfect Love

     Over the course of the last semester, I've really struggled with perfection.  It's not something I'm particularly proud of, but I can't deny it.  I have become a slave to my homework, to every assignment for every class.  Rather than show an imperfection, I stay up late, trying to get everything done.  I want to be perfect, because I wasn't perfect in high school, and I want to be.   

     I took a children’s literature course last semester in which I was required to read eight children’s books a week, three of which must be chapter books, in addition to reading a chapter in the book and creating comments on the reading.  I could have accomplished this, I could have, if I didn’t have other classes as well.  I could always lie and say I had read books that I’d already read, but that would be cheating.  I tried to cheat.  I tried to gather the courage to stick some books in that I’d already read, to say that I’d read them in the prior week, when really, I hadn’t.  But I couldn’t do it.  So I struggled to get through all the reading before the class met, and then I would spend all weekend doing homework.  I blew off my friends; I sequestered myself in the library.  Anything for that coveted “A.”  A friend would text not to ask if I wanted to do anything, but to say “let me guess, you’re doing homework.”  I was always doing homework, but I strove for perfection.  I couldn’t let anything get in my way, not this time.  My life hung in a balance.  I couldn’t do less work, but I couldn’t do more either, because there wasn’t time.  Every day was a struggle, simply because I had so much to get done, all to have the untarnished semester.  It didn’t work in the end.  Five hours of studying for a Spanish test in one night left my head in a jumble and a low “B” on the test.  It also left my grade at an A-.  So much for that untarnished semester.  The perfection was gone, again, and my imperfection was exposed for anyone who looked at my transcript to see.   

   With the perfection gone, I realize what a waste it is to try so hard to be something I'm simply not.  I can't be perfect.  If I were perfect, I'd be Jesus, and I'm not, so I guess I'm not perfect.  Luckily, when I was looking around on the internet earlier this week, I found this video that reminded me that I am perfect.  Not because of anything I do, but because of what Christ has done for me.  

     One of my favorite lines in this song says "He is jealous for me."  At first, I didn't understand this line, and because I'm an English major and I love words, I looked it up.  Funny thing is, jealous doesn't have to mean a person who wants something someone else has.  It also means someone who guards something.  In light of that, the line says he guards me against the powers of this world.  Why?  Because he loves us.  Paul writes in his Epistle to the Romans, "Just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life."  I am perfect because my God makes me perfect by giving his son to die for my imperfections.  Now that's love!