On knees and elbows, I ducked under the kitchen island and scrubbed at the solidified bits of bright green jello on the floor, the remnants of my daughter’s treat, requested more for its scientific properties than its culinary ones. Hadn’t she made the concoction just the day before? How could it so quickly have become part of the floor? My conscience was clouded: I had a pressing deadline to attend to. It wasn’t the first ‘nerd-sniping’ I’d fallen prey to that day. The stubborn contours of what for all intents and purposes resembled a miniature mountain range were nearly impervious to my best attempts to level them, but I continued furiously scrubbing at the anomaly until satisfied it was all but undetectable.

While there was clearly some satisfaction at seeing the restored floor, I dared to ponder how many opportunities I’d missed trying to satisfy some need for order outside the bounds of my more acute need for creative time to leverage the power of dreams into realities, beyond the verbal machinations that don’t manifest as easily as the thoughts and inclinations which fuel them. The fact that the color of this tiny stubborn mountain range resembled cryptonite reminded me that we have our ‘favorite’ forms of procrastination which are nothing less than stumbling blocks we allow in our own path, which we at times subconsciously pursue like a heat-seeking missile, looking to be diverted from our path which could lead to some scary unknowns. After all, it’s much safer and ever-so-mildly rewarding to scrub at tough bits of floor gunk and see them sanded away than face our fear of failing at what we most want to achieve. What momentary successes are we trading like Esau’s pot of lentils for the inheritance we were meant to own, even if through our own stumbling process deeper into its mystery?

I host a writer’s group that meets when we are able to share our stories, discuss our projects, and to write. The process of moving forward in one’s writing is essentially a solitary endeavor, but it does not need to be a lonely one. In the levels of overwhelm we combat and cope with to varying degrees of failure and success in the digital age, loneliness is a hallmark. We’ve never had more ways to intersect, and yet, never been more insulated from true connection. My fellow writers and I annually set aside a few days at a monastery to overcome this, and this past weekend was our time.

The wise and lovely women I shared my weekend with alternately tapping away on our keyboards and drinking too much coffee laughed, musing and shared from multivariate perspectives. Merrily crunching through fallen leaves on the paths around the retreat center, the colors and shapes of the broken kaleidoscope seemed a perfect reflection of our happy assemblage: gathered and unified around a common hub, multiple spokes pointing in the divergent directions of the compass, all necessary for their uniqueness and the stability they provide. Thirty years ago, 25% of the people in a given county voted similarly. Now, the number is 80%. The pacification of virtual and literal echo chambers will never present a way forward to the cohesiveness and joy that alone comes when we choose one another, despite our uniqueness. Differences are like ingredients in a recipe: we need the baseline of distinction in order to create the delectable offerings that only emerge when we do, electing harmony over dissonance and isolation.

It was with considerable relief that I reckoned at the soul-level with a relationship of the past that I’d deemed, harsh as it sounds, largely a waste of precious time. Wounds from one’s past that have gone unacknowledged, whether incurred due to carelessness or calculated cruelty will necessarily retain an unhealed layer. Healing is not just a gap bridged from a destructive to repaired state of being; it is coming to terms with the fact that something valuable was not adequately protected, and the resulting effect was devastation.

Mourning can be a form of honoring what was lost in that which threatened one’s well-being, and can flow unchecked at a sub level for very lengthy periods of time if not recognized.

When I realized the relationship I’d worn like a patch over the scar tissue of past hurts was not a foolish waste of time, applying a ‘bandaid to a scar’ as much as it was merely the indication I had not honored the loss of the past, brought a sense of personal vindication that I did not know I needed until the epiphany came. A door finally closed.

Going about the calming familiarity of performing mundane tasks this morning, a thought came in sideways.

“Look outside the cage.”

The pointedness of the statement startled me, yet oddly, in a comforting sort of way. What cage am I in, or do I perceive myself to be held by? And in what way am I limiting my own vision by present circumstances that are in flux, and subject to change?

There is a very tricky kind of self-deception that can occur when we allow our range of emotion to dictate the ‘truth’ of a situation, which when looked at from outside the cage, would appear differently. We lose when we place the spin on what lies within the confines of our current conundrum, rather than taking objective inventory of its outer context. Who has the time for that? And yet, the lack of taking the time to see straight costs us much peace.

The struggle to see objectively is everyone’s Achilles heel; after all, with all we do see, we can’t see our own face without a mirror. Perhaps it is ironic that allowing those who are close, trusted, supportive and honest is a necessary step to inner self-awareness; allowing a friend to hold a lantern for us when our hands are too full of our moment to clearly see what is beyond the cage.

After a recent conversation with a friend navigating the deep waters of questioning how a good God can allow bad things to happen, I found myself likewise taking the plunge. I came across some surprising ideas under the surface of the discussion that seemed to want to be explored, and while this brief treatise in no ways attempts to breach the gap between faith and and full-on doubt, it seems worth commenting that there is an indecision that at times coexists with either (faith or doubt), which is a working suspension of both belief and disbelief in order to search out a matter. With that as the springboard, I will launch right in.

There is a quantum leap between the study of theological and spiritual truths, and the working out of a relationship with God. While there is necessary overlap, like an interstate highway and a state route that enjoin for a period as one road, they nevertheless ultimately lead to entirely different places. One is more like the process of unraveling to understand, even if something is undone in the process. The other is more interested in weaving, and in the end, to create something of greater value than just that of the creative act itself, which of course has its own art and place. James 2:17 says that “faith without works is dead.” There is a lackluster aspect to kicking the tires of stories and statements extracted out of context from the Old Testament (or Covenant) that would seem to decry the God of the New. But much like a butterfly with wingspan pinned open in a natural history exhibit is astonishing and beautiful to survey, it is without life.

In contacs, the life of the Spirit (and that which can only be led only by it) is full of life. Its flow promotes healing, reconciliation, and harmony with everyone around us. The goal is LOVE. This flow leads to peace, and ultimately to reconciliation within our own souls and with those around us, even when with there are some doubts bobbing around in the water. It breeds patience, and shockingly, even some enjoyment of the adventure which is going to lead through the snares and toil that John Newton wrote of. The girth and longevity of those doubts is determined by the extent to which we choose one path without considering the other. Of what use is a theology that does not produce and promote love? It is tasteless salt, suitable only for tossing away and trampling.

I have been pondering a post written by Rebecca K. Hammonds on analogies to spiritual life that can be drawn from the simplicity and complexity of understanding one’s garden soil. The reminder of getting down to the essential context by which green life emerges is timely, both from the standpoint of my progression as a gardener and spiritual sojourner. It brought to mind the importance of living at peace in the tension between the extremes of what is known and yet unknown, and brought me to remembrance of some words penned by theologian Geerhardus Vos, whose name I knew only attributed to his quote: the already and the not yet. Digging a little deeper (as is the gardener’s wont) led me to some interesting discoveries. Vos’s comment was regarding ‘inaugural eschatology’, which for we non-theologians out there, is in reference to the understanding that while we are presently in the kingdom of God, we are not yet experiencing it’s fullness but will at a future time. There is a sense in which we are fully benefit-holders, but we aren’t yet eligible for a full withdrawal on what is an eternal inheritance. Says Ephesians 1: When you believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God’s possession—to the praise of his glory.

And speaking of eternal treasure, Vos also wrote: The best proof that God will never cease to love us lies in that He never began.

With the virtually constant wrangling of life’s inconsistencies into places more meaningful, it is tremendously comforting to consider that the fullness we long for is precisely what we are heading for, and furthermore, that what we are ultimately heading for, through the wilderness of things temporal, l is eternal.

The concept of solvitur ambulando (“it is solved by walking”) is not new or original, but is certainly transcendent. But is it true, this idea that “it is solved by walking?” And if it is true, to what extent? I went for a a long walk some time ago, covering the distance from Georgia to Maine entirely on foot along the Appalachian Trail. Many things were solved along that path, both the physical one and the less obvious inner path. I learned that I had more in me than I knew in certain areas, and less in me in others. But the reality is that we are made for forward motion, and there is no form of transport quite so extravagantly simple as self-propelling! Not that it doesn’t have its limitations, because of course it does. But realizing that is a huge part of the battle. One must quit while ahead.

In the case of perfectionism, there is something remarkably freeing in the proposal to just walk about. Fresh air, increased circulation and in most cases, a reconciliation with the simple fact that we are made to walk is evident. But what resides in the symbolic understanding of the phrase is even more significant.

For some perfectionists, in our attempts to do something (and not only something, but everything, as perfectly as possible) we end up tempted to skip necessary steps along the way to the end goal. Sometimes there is a certain natural gifting that has results in a degree of success without much cultivation. There can be a sense of competency that naturally leads to the tendency to avoid failure by not taking the laborious but necessary steps of trial and error necessary for truly commanding a subject. This can be due to high expectations of the self that don’t permit the easy achievement of just about anything, and the following sense of the impossibility of the task. But as the saying goes: “An expert is someone who has made every mistake in their field.” Unfortunately, the perfectionist doesn’t allow themself the practical luxury of making mistakes for fear of being diminished in some way. Because most people are not along for the ride but chiefly interested in the synopsis of an experience, there is no way to quantify what has been literally walked through except to vicariously acknowledge that it was.

The good news is that when we are tempted to take shortcuts in the name of presenting “perfectly,” we need only to remember that the substance is more important than the appearance. What good is a façade that only shields ruins?

There are messes and mistakes to make along the way. How beautiful! We tout learning, but how often are we encouraged, like the cartoon schoolchildren of the show “The Magic Schoolbus,“ to “make mistakes, get messy, and take risks”? Messes are not signs of failure—they are signs of learning, of process, and that is key to substance. Without oxen a stable stays clean, but you need a strong ox for a large harvest. (Proverbs 14:4, NLT) A soiled mess is evidence of life, the disarray of trial and error, and the progression that can only come because of them. The proof of this is the mistake that leads to the breakthrough that was not going come any other way.

There is much to be celebrated when we allow ourselves to take the kind of risks that might land us in an awkward situation. As perfectionists, we try so hard to play it safe, we miss out on some of the best moments life can offer.

This is not to advocate irresponsible risk taking; there is difference between calculated risks and foolishness. But without faith it is impossible to please God. Perfectionists generally struggle to live on faith. It feels too much like reckless abandon. The emphasis instead is on the known quotient, the formulaic and the predictable. After all, it is only our own efforts to control that bring about the results we want, isn’t it? Thankfully, that is far from the truth. The truth is that we have a sinless, utterly flawless Savior who worked on our behalf to win us back, to win our hearts, and to produce lasting spiritual fruit to the praise of the Father. When we can surrender to His majesty and His unfailing heart for us, realizing that not only is he “enough” but he is everything, the storms can’t blow as hard. God’s spirit wants us to look to him for life and direction–not to coddle us but to grow us even more into His image, and to present us strong and vibrant before the Presence of the Father. 

Some things won’t come undone until we get to heaven. We have strings attached that need to be cut loose, friendships that need to change, dialogue that needs to take place. But with us, and better yet, within us, the power of God works to make us into the people we are intended to be. It is ultimately up to Him how far we progress in this life. That can seem like a hard pill to swallow for those who like to perpetually be in control, and dare we say, take credit for the outcome. But in reality, our minds are warped until they are saturated in the Word and we are thinking the thoughts of His heart, soul and mind. As the Word Made Flesh, Christ was not at all concerned with expressing His own sovereignty apart from the will of the Father. Just as the words we speak serve us, so Christ himself was at one with the will of the Father—a oneness that is hard to fathom. 

In all our clamoring for success and victory in this life, may we never forget that Christ died to pardon us for the things we don’t have all together. And while He wants to be our supply, He still has work for us to do volitionally. The difference is we can serve from a pure heart and not out of some religious pressure. The spirit of religion has called forth a perfectionist spirit, but it has already been defeated at the Cross. We can only surrender our will to Him, offer Him the sad and broken remains of perfectionism and let Him replace our old heart with a new one that pumps with a desire to do what is pleasing to him at all times, even when we fail at doing so. We imply cannot be perfect in our flesh. But there is something beyond it that we are called to embrace, and that is the humility that comes before honor. The desire written within us to see our God exalted, not our own accomplishments, is driven by the spirit, and is not a work of the flesh. Our bravery, our exploits become that which calls attention to His powerful grace and unending love for all of us.

There is a certain courage inherent in taking a first step into something new, and perhaps away from something old, not knowing if the power exists to keep up with the task and set the pace that lays ahead. Like the maps of old with unconquered, unknown territories simply displayed with hand-drawn Leviathans and the words “here be dragons,” we often surmise defeat before we even begin! It is a troubled mindset that keeps us away from the game, that convinces us to quit even before we enter in, when the reality is that there is nothing to be lost from the trying, only something to be gained. And even if there is an experience of loss, there are still gifts to be had even if not the most sought after form of receiving them.

But there is something about simply walking it out, and letting the process work itself out, that reminds us that every step matters, every step counts. “It is solved by walking.”

A common perspective floating around the church for far too long is the concept of ‘deserving.’ While point blank references are made to the astonishing truth that “while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” there is not and never was any mention in the bible about deserving or not deserving God’s love. We simply cannot earn it. When we receive the forgiveness Christ alone offers, it is implicit that even in our sin-besotted state, we are considered worthy of being saved, deemed worthy of pure love. In of ourselves, we are utterly incapable of removing the indelible mark of sin: its essence is death, chaos and the absence of all light and good. Yet: God not only can but has removed our sin, and if we are inclined in any way to think our actions aid and abet this process, we may be tempted to look through the lens of ‘deserving versus undeserving.’ If anyone is deserving of God’s mercy, then all are deserving. And if none are deserving, the inverse is true. I would suggest that the true issue is eligibility. Are all eligible? Yes, and yes–regardless if the offer is redeemed or not.

Perhaps one reason for the misconstruing of God’s true love for us is we are constantly expecting it to come to us on our terms. Truth is the perfect standard or scale by which all other things are measured. We must allow our understanding to be informed, not the other way around. While Adam’s fall has affected all of us, it has affected us each differently. In the weakness of flesh, some have promulgated the belief out of morbid introspection and ignorance of what the word of God states that they are despicable beyond all remedy.

It is tragic when a person of faith who has not been liberated from the lie that God does not truly and deeply love them despite an inborn penchant for sin spreads this to others.

God is seen by some as an entirely different Being in the Old Testament; “the God of the Old Covenant.” Stories recounted of all the loss of lives at his command. And while it is true that the new covenant changed everything, what of the warnings and second chances he constantly issued to his wandering people whose clothing and shoes never wore out in 40 years; his mercy shown to the people of Nineveh and Sodom and Gomorrah; his setting apart of people like Sampson and Gideon and David, all weak in their flesh, yet notably ‘after his own heart?’

There is certainly consistency in the heart of God’s actions, even if the terms of the relationship changed entirely from the Old Covenant to the new.

Jesus left the home of heaven to join humankind on earth even to its most hellish dregs: that is evidence of Love. That truth must inform our thinking, and not the other way around. We were mysteriously with the journey that passed through sorrow and ended in horrific suffering—for the joy set before him. We are that joy. We are His joy. He wants to be ours.