This column is only for perfectionists, recovering perfectionists, or people trying to live with perfectionists.
A genuine perfectionist thinks perfectionism is a virtue. He is perfectly wrong, but I wish you luck in convincing him.
He is also probably tired and testy. It is exhausting to be the only one really concerned about doing a truly excellent job in your home, your work, your school, your church, your . . . It’s not true, but his thinking so is exhausting for the perfectionist and a drain on the poor populace around him.
News flash! We live in an imperfect world. Unless you’re sure the Almighty has made a dreadful mistake by dropping you into the wrong universe, learn to live with much more imperfection than you wish to. If you expect to have a perfect house, spouse, kid, office, etc., you will drive yourself and those around you crazy and/or away. I mean it. I’m serious.
Come to think of it, another reason perfectionism is so exhausting is because it is so utterly serious. A true perfectionist can’t trust anyone else to be serious enough, so he/she does it for everyone—which is seriously tiresome.
Perfectionists flirt a bunch with dishonesty and hypocrisy, because they are not perfect. They look down on others but fail to realize that perfectionism is one of the worst and stinkiest of human imperfections.
At its withered heart, perfectionism is a denial of the gospel. Christ was truly perfect, truly righteous, and salvation means accepting his sacrifice—harder to do when we’re most impressed with our own.
Perfectionism is a control issue. Who’s in control? Me or God? A nice perfectionist will say, “God” and then spend most of his/her time denying the answer.
Perfectionists are terribly insecure. God assures us that because of who He is and what Christ has done, we are absolutely secure. Afraid they don’t measure up, perfectionists again deny the gospel by choosing fear over faith, and they spread their fear. Those around them know that they are “weighed in the balance” and found wanting. So why try?
Here is profound counsel for those of us with this affliction: Lighten up! (Or “gospel” up!)
We really do live much better lives when we trust Someone bigger than ourselves and quit making such a joyless job of it.
Don’t worry about keeping the world spinning. Don’t dehumanize people by making them your improvement projects. Trust God more and trust your ability to perform less.
By the way, not everything you do needs or deserves to be done perfectly. Here’s homework: For a change, pick something to do not excellently but just adequately—“fair to middlin’” as we Texans say. Relax. It’ll be good for you. If you’re a perfectionist, way more than half of what you do so well only deserves to be done about half as well as you do it.
I’ve just written a very imperfect column. I feel better already.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Resurrection Hope in the Midst of Calamity
As most of our friends and parishioners know, my brothers and I, all four of us preachers, head to Robert Lee, Texas, a couple of times a year to spend some time together at the old homeplace of our maternal grandparents.
The other guys usually manage to get there, each alone, from one to a few additional times each year for study retreats, etc. I live a bit closer to Robert Lee than the others, which means, of course, that so far I have managed to get away for almost no time alone there ever. That is a shame, and it is my own fault.
Don’t get me wrong. We love the time together, but my brothers assure me that being there alone and drinking in some quiet time is worth a ton in its own right. I really enjoy the company of those miscreants, but I’ve always found myself to be excellent company by myself, too. I need to try it.
I call our biannual get-togethers the Coke County Ministry Conference. I’ve derived far more ministerial benefit from those gatherings than any actual ministry conference I’ve ever attended. We had a great time at the most recent one, even though we probably should have taken turns preaching sermons to each other warning of hell. We were there a bit later in the spring than usual; afternoon temperatures were already hovering obscenely around 100, and we were roasting. Add a little—actually, a lot—of wind to that, and it was seriously hot.
It was also dangerously dry. I didn’t see any brimstone, but the fire danger was extreme. A few days ago the chance of fire became the certainty of fire as a major wildfire threatened the towns of Robert Lee and Bronte. Some of our family there have had to leave their homes, and the guys have joined in to help try to get the blaze under control.
One report mentioned that the residents of the nursing home just across the creek from my grandparents’ old place has been evacuated. The fire has been very near Paint Creek and the picturesque little cemetery eight miles out where my parents and grandparents are buried. At last report, though the fire has burned over 100,000 acres and is only 10% contained, the two aforementioned towns are no longer in the “line of fire.”
I’ve been checking web-based weather and news outlets for late news. Oddly enough, I’m not sure if I’d say my brothers and I left Robert Lee at just the right time, or if I’d say that I’d give a good bit to be there right now. I’m sure four preachers would be invaluable fire-fighting assistance!
Earthquakes, tsunamis, fires. A guy with questionable theology and a flare for writing could make a million right now. I’m sure some will.
Sunday is Easter. Pope John Paul II spoke well when he said, “Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song.” That’s still true, even if the ground shakes and smoke is in the air. Prayer is called for, along with Resurrection hope.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
The other guys usually manage to get there, each alone, from one to a few additional times each year for study retreats, etc. I live a bit closer to Robert Lee than the others, which means, of course, that so far I have managed to get away for almost no time alone there ever. That is a shame, and it is my own fault.
Don’t get me wrong. We love the time together, but my brothers assure me that being there alone and drinking in some quiet time is worth a ton in its own right. I really enjoy the company of those miscreants, but I’ve always found myself to be excellent company by myself, too. I need to try it.
I call our biannual get-togethers the Coke County Ministry Conference. I’ve derived far more ministerial benefit from those gatherings than any actual ministry conference I’ve ever attended. We had a great time at the most recent one, even though we probably should have taken turns preaching sermons to each other warning of hell. We were there a bit later in the spring than usual; afternoon temperatures were already hovering obscenely around 100, and we were roasting. Add a little—actually, a lot—of wind to that, and it was seriously hot.
It was also dangerously dry. I didn’t see any brimstone, but the fire danger was extreme. A few days ago the chance of fire became the certainty of fire as a major wildfire threatened the towns of Robert Lee and Bronte. Some of our family there have had to leave their homes, and the guys have joined in to help try to get the blaze under control.
One report mentioned that the residents of the nursing home just across the creek from my grandparents’ old place has been evacuated. The fire has been very near Paint Creek and the picturesque little cemetery eight miles out where my parents and grandparents are buried. At last report, though the fire has burned over 100,000 acres and is only 10% contained, the two aforementioned towns are no longer in the “line of fire.”
I’ve been checking web-based weather and news outlets for late news. Oddly enough, I’m not sure if I’d say my brothers and I left Robert Lee at just the right time, or if I’d say that I’d give a good bit to be there right now. I’m sure four preachers would be invaluable fire-fighting assistance!
Earthquakes, tsunamis, fires. A guy with questionable theology and a flare for writing could make a million right now. I’m sure some will.
Sunday is Easter. Pope John Paul II spoke well when he said, “Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song.” That’s still true, even if the ground shakes and smoke is in the air. Prayer is called for, along with Resurrection hope.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Communicating God's Truth Calls for Wisdom
I still remember, and cringe when I remember, the TV interview I saw years ago featuring a Scripture-quoting preacher or church leader trying to defend the well-meaning but largely indefensible actions his church had taken which had landed them in court.
I felt bad for the guy. He’d not done anything needlessly provocative like burning the Koran to pander to cameras and get attention. He’d not done anything cruel and utterly insane like protesting homosexuality by demonstrating at the funerals of fallen soldiers. He’d not even hatched any crazy end of the world theories and promoted such idiocy by spending big bucks on billboards. The media attention he was getting was the last thing he wanted, and he found himself sweating bullets in front of the camera.
I really did feel bad for him, which made me feel even more guilty for finally hoping that for the good of the faith the poor guy would choke or gag or just lock down and be mercifully quiet.
You see, the guy was stammering along, but he couldn’t just talk. He couldn’t just try to make his case. He felt that he had to quote Scripture, and lots of it, and quoting Scripture is what he did for paragraphs on end with barely a breath between them.
I didn’t blame him for being nervous as a cat. He had a poor case to make. Neither the court’s decision nor logic was on his side. No matter how much good his church had probably done over the years, they’d made one very ill-advised decision, landed in court, and roll the tape! To the news media, the good the church had done was not news. It was “Dog Bites Man” stuff. But the present teapot tempest was “Man Bites Dog” headline fodder, and they were eating it up.
The poor guy in the lights looked like he was being eaten alive. And he just kept on quoting Scripture to try to prove his case to people who wouldn’t have known a passage from Second Timothy from a paragraph from a weed-eater manual. He might just as well have been quoting Scripture from the original language. He was not communicating at all.
It was hard to watch.
He lost his case, and probably deserved to, even though he may well have been a fine and godly man. I love and revere Scripture, but I surely would like to have heard at least a Christ-honoring attempt at a capable defense in plain English.
Speaking to the crowd gathered centuries ago on Mars Hill in Athens, the Apostle Paul was more than able to quote most of the Hebrew Bible; instead, he began his “sermon” to the crowd by saying, “One of your own poets has said . . .” It was a good move, and folks listened.
Of course, the great apostle had the best of “cases” to make, and knowing the Lord of Scripture intimately, he knew both its deepest Truth and when the time was right, or not, to quote its words.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
I felt bad for the guy. He’d not done anything needlessly provocative like burning the Koran to pander to cameras and get attention. He’d not done anything cruel and utterly insane like protesting homosexuality by demonstrating at the funerals of fallen soldiers. He’d not even hatched any crazy end of the world theories and promoted such idiocy by spending big bucks on billboards. The media attention he was getting was the last thing he wanted, and he found himself sweating bullets in front of the camera.
I really did feel bad for him, which made me feel even more guilty for finally hoping that for the good of the faith the poor guy would choke or gag or just lock down and be mercifully quiet.
You see, the guy was stammering along, but he couldn’t just talk. He couldn’t just try to make his case. He felt that he had to quote Scripture, and lots of it, and quoting Scripture is what he did for paragraphs on end with barely a breath between them.
I didn’t blame him for being nervous as a cat. He had a poor case to make. Neither the court’s decision nor logic was on his side. No matter how much good his church had probably done over the years, they’d made one very ill-advised decision, landed in court, and roll the tape! To the news media, the good the church had done was not news. It was “Dog Bites Man” stuff. But the present teapot tempest was “Man Bites Dog” headline fodder, and they were eating it up.
The poor guy in the lights looked like he was being eaten alive. And he just kept on quoting Scripture to try to prove his case to people who wouldn’t have known a passage from Second Timothy from a paragraph from a weed-eater manual. He might just as well have been quoting Scripture from the original language. He was not communicating at all.
It was hard to watch.
He lost his case, and probably deserved to, even though he may well have been a fine and godly man. I love and revere Scripture, but I surely would like to have heard at least a Christ-honoring attempt at a capable defense in plain English.
Speaking to the crowd gathered centuries ago on Mars Hill in Athens, the Apostle Paul was more than able to quote most of the Hebrew Bible; instead, he began his “sermon” to the crowd by saying, “One of your own poets has said . . .” It was a good move, and folks listened.
Of course, the great apostle had the best of “cases” to make, and knowing the Lord of Scripture intimately, he knew both its deepest Truth and when the time was right, or not, to quote its words.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
Monday, April 4, 2011
"Just Try Harder!" Said the Ladybug to the Worm
“Just try harder!” urged the ladybug.
“I am trying,” protested the stressed-out caterpillar. “And I’ve been trying for hours! So far the only thing that’s happened is that I got so dizzy a few minutes ago I almost fell off my leaf.
“If I’d fallen, I’d surely agree that some wings would’ve come in handy. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride, and if caterpillars could sprout wings by holding their breath and pushing with all their might, I’d have wings that would make most eagles green with envy.
“But I’m still just a green caterpillar, Mrs. Ladybug, and trying harder is not working! So, if you please, madam, I’d be obliged if you would take your stories of caterpillars sprouting wings to some other tree where you may find a more gullible class of caterpillar.
“I’m sure you mean well, and I’ve no doubt that you honestly believe those stories of winged worms, but I am not too good to be a caterpillar. A caterpillar I was born, and a caterpillar I shall gladly remain.
“I may just be a glorified worm, but at least I am a worm with no airs and no need, by the way, to take to the air. Why, come to think of it, I saw a butterfly fly by just this morning. You’d never get me up in a thing like that! I have plenty of fine feet and feel no need at all for any wings, thank you very much. Good day!”
With that, the caterpillar turned on his many heels and wormed his way over to the next leaf. He felt oddly tired and soon found himself snuggling up to a nearby branch. Hmm, maybe he’d just wrap himself up for awhile and settle in for a long nap. Caterpillars and wings! Of all the silly stories . . .
And of all the silly caterpillars, that one is in for a serious surprise and a world-class transformation. But trying harder won’t get it done. Only nature’s Creator will get it done, at just the right time and in just the right way.
Most of what passes for religion in this world is, when push comes to shove, all about humanity’s ability to do a better job pushing and shoving. It boils down to self-help horse hockey that puts far too much emphasis on our ability and almost completely disregards God’s power.
Christians, of all people, should know better, but we fall easy prey to “religion” that gives lip service to God but is really all about our trying harder to “be good,” which we could do just as well if the cross had never happened. Self-help religion requires no Savior, no cross.
God has something far different and far better in mind. It’s not about human power. It’s not about our ability to keep the rules. It’s about God’s Spirit transforming us from within: “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation!” (2 Cor. 5:17-18). And the apostle says specifically, “All this is from God” lest we think it comes from our own power to change ourselves and impress even God with how good we are.
If your faith is all about how really motivated worms can work harder and sprout wings, you need to find a different tree. One that’s shaped like a cross.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
“I am trying,” protested the stressed-out caterpillar. “And I’ve been trying for hours! So far the only thing that’s happened is that I got so dizzy a few minutes ago I almost fell off my leaf.
“If I’d fallen, I’d surely agree that some wings would’ve come in handy. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride, and if caterpillars could sprout wings by holding their breath and pushing with all their might, I’d have wings that would make most eagles green with envy.
“But I’m still just a green caterpillar, Mrs. Ladybug, and trying harder is not working! So, if you please, madam, I’d be obliged if you would take your stories of caterpillars sprouting wings to some other tree where you may find a more gullible class of caterpillar.
“I’m sure you mean well, and I’ve no doubt that you honestly believe those stories of winged worms, but I am not too good to be a caterpillar. A caterpillar I was born, and a caterpillar I shall gladly remain.
“I may just be a glorified worm, but at least I am a worm with no airs and no need, by the way, to take to the air. Why, come to think of it, I saw a butterfly fly by just this morning. You’d never get me up in a thing like that! I have plenty of fine feet and feel no need at all for any wings, thank you very much. Good day!”
With that, the caterpillar turned on his many heels and wormed his way over to the next leaf. He felt oddly tired and soon found himself snuggling up to a nearby branch. Hmm, maybe he’d just wrap himself up for awhile and settle in for a long nap. Caterpillars and wings! Of all the silly stories . . .
And of all the silly caterpillars, that one is in for a serious surprise and a world-class transformation. But trying harder won’t get it done. Only nature’s Creator will get it done, at just the right time and in just the right way.
Most of what passes for religion in this world is, when push comes to shove, all about humanity’s ability to do a better job pushing and shoving. It boils down to self-help horse hockey that puts far too much emphasis on our ability and almost completely disregards God’s power.
Christians, of all people, should know better, but we fall easy prey to “religion” that gives lip service to God but is really all about our trying harder to “be good,” which we could do just as well if the cross had never happened. Self-help religion requires no Savior, no cross.
God has something far different and far better in mind. It’s not about human power. It’s not about our ability to keep the rules. It’s about God’s Spirit transforming us from within: “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation!” (2 Cor. 5:17-18). And the apostle says specifically, “All this is from God” lest we think it comes from our own power to change ourselves and impress even God with how good we are.
If your faith is all about how really motivated worms can work harder and sprout wings, you need to find a different tree. One that’s shaped like a cross.
Copyright 2011 by Curtis K. Shelburne. Permission to copy without altering text or for monetary gain is hereby granted subject to inclusion of this copyright notice.
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