Coming to terms with the Gold Standard

We all tend to work out of the comfort of the familiar.  There are few times this is more apparent then at holidays.  For me, this means working out of the ultimate model of Thanksgiving dining perfection; the incredible feasts my mother pulled off. For her, the food was important and very well done, but equally important was the presentation.  Weeks before she'd pull out her finest family heirloom table linens and the silver set.  She'd spend hours ironing out all the creases and polishing each fork, knife and spoon. By Thanksgiving morning the table glistened as the bone china was put into place, just so, below the full lead crystal water and wine glasses.  The centerpiece was given to me as a Thanksgiving morning project when I was old enough to do a proper job.  Over the years, it became my favorite part of Thanksgiving.  I'd set out in the yard, scouting out the nicest green cuttings and a few interestingly shaped twigs.  Once home with an armful, I'd trim each piece and arrange them dramatically underneath and between oranges, apples, plums and pomegranates.  The last touch was to light the candles, put the stunning roasted bird on the table with all the lovely side dishes and take a picture to preserve the perfection that would be gone forever once the feast began.  There was something incredibly satisfying about being a part of creating something so absolutely perfect - even if it only lasted for a moment or two.

Not being able to recreate this scene in my own home has seemed a failing to me over the years. Year after year I secretly dread its coming as I  anticipate my inability to recreate the gold standard of holiday dining.  I wasn't going to do a turkey at all this year - having an oyster roast instead sounded spectacular. But the shocking price of oysters shot down that option.  So the bird's in the fridge, thawing.  I took out the recipes this morning.  I like to brine my turkey, a tradition that I can own.  Another annual tradition has been to share the day with good friends who help with the cooking and the clean up.  Together, we'll feed 13 tomorrow.  I'll use the sideboard for a buffet (no turkey on the table) and we won't all fit at the dining room table, but maybe we can at least be in the same room.  I'll pull out the fine linens my mother passed down to me and open the silver chest.  But it would take a miracle to press it and clean the silver setting at this point.  The next 36 hours will be organized pandemonium, but every bit as much a blessing as I share the kitchen with my daughter who loves to help make it all come together. It will form another memory for all the kids of our two families, hopefully, not one with which they feel they will need to compete.  

In having a shared Thanksgiving meal these last few years, I've had to really relax my expectations and loosen the reins a bit.  (The first year I was horrified when the turkey was carved BEFORE it hit the table, OMG!)  Its a spiritual lesson I cannot practice enough.  I'm a bit overwhelmed sitting here thinking of what needs to be done between now and then.  But it will get done, or it won't, and the meal will happen regardless.  There won't be a picture perfect moment when the table itself has reached that glorious moment of perfection. But there will be that precious (almost perfect) moment when we are all gathered around the table holding hands and giving thanks for the food that was so loving prepared by so many hands, for the friendship between us and our joy of being together, and for the love of Christ that unites us.

A Brief Glimpse of What God's Been Up To

Last weekend I had the honor of serving on the leadership team for the Diocese of CPA, Happening #3 youth event. During the weekend I kept thinking to God, "Oooohhhh, so this is where you hang out." Not that God isn't hanging out here, where ever here is for you and me at the moment, but WOW, been there, seen God. Here are a few observations from sharing three days with 10-12th grader (Emergent) Christians.

1. The issue of perfection was not on the radar of this Christian community. This is not to say that perfection is not an issue, these ARE real kids living in the real world. And the real world is very obsessed with perfection; not to live up to those very specific cultural expections is brutal. But what is very clear, is that this new expression of Christianity is marked by intentional, unconditional love of the other. It appeared to me to be the closest demonstration of the ancient concept of friendship possible in the modern world. Friendship, as is was then, in the ancient world (think Augustine), was a sacred bond, a deep and abiding (platonic) love for the other.
2. Nothing was done perfectly, in fact, there was imperfection built in. Big lesson: more technology does not equal perfect anything. Laptops were everywhere: on the floor, the chairs, the tables. The core of the Happening experience is all on flashdrives, camera phones and facebook pages. When we didn't have the right file we typed in the changes... or not. Paper handouts were not an option. Not one spine of one Book of Common Prayer was cracked. But to be sure, it was the glue that bound us together.
3. Those of us (me) feeling the need to fulfill the our (my own) expectations of our (my) role, felt like we (I) might as well have been covered in big 'ol orange spots. Who am I in this new context - in this new construct of God's kingdom? The perfectionist in me was not happy in these moments.
4. This isn't just my daddy's church, its a whole new breed of church. At times these young Christians, and the new expression of Christianity they are, were like a playful young wild animal. I almost worried for a moment that we (and we know who we are), the people of the church that was but is no more, will conspire to try and tame this unbridled, uninhibited, imperfect love of Jesus. Thankfully, God has seen to it that that train has left the station.
4. These youthful new Christians have a profound sense of clarity about who they are and who they follow and why. But the need to do it precisely right, simply isn't there. This is very unsettling; I used to know exactly what I was trained to be and do and why. But my role models fail me in this new paradigm, this new way of being church; that picture of perfection has come undone. The location and destination are the same but the orders have changed.
5. New Christians like to be together, close together. The "you're in my personal space, my bubble" concept doesn't seem to apply, or not so much, for this group; they moved like a school of fish. Often, they stood arm in arm, swaying and singing together. Sometimes they formed a long single-file hug line that wrapped over itself in constant movement then dessipated out of the open space conforming to the stairwell where they gathered into a big formless mass sitting shoulder to shoulder on the floor. We perfectionist have a very hard time with this lack of personal space.

How wonderful it is that God has heard this, as I hope you have, as both a plea to use what has been stirred up in me as transforming medium, and a word of thanksgiving of what is, and of the promise of what surely will be.

Sweaty Palms

There's a first time for everything. So here I am, blogging for the first time.
My palms are sweating. How hard can this be? I wonder. People, millions of people, in fact, blog. There's a whole world out there of blogging - so get with it, I tell myself. So here goes.

I decided to call my little blog "Perfection Undone" in order to name and lean into the stumbling block that prevents me from blogging, or putting anything into words on a page, for that matter; it won't be perfect. Perfection is not my friend. It is my enemy; and not mine alone. It is our common enemy. Perfection stops us before we can ever get started. Worse yet, our need to be perfect, do the right things, say the right things, sing the right notes, show up at the right times, be the right person for the right job, and juggle all the right balls in the air, prevents us from taking risks.

Now the problem with this might seem obvious from a practical point of view. But from a theological perspective its all the more tragic. God isn't into perfection - at least not human perfection. God doesn't require perfection and doesn't seem the least bit bothered by our lack of it. It only matters to us. God is into risk. God calls us into places that require risk. Risk and perfection don't really go together. Risk is messy and unflattering and might require more than one try, several tries actually. And it will lead us to dismal failures and humiliating fits and starts before we arrive at whatever place it is God has called us to. Perfectionism, and all its trappings, are antithetical to a Gospel of love, mercy, patience, generosity and justice. None of these things, done by humans, is ever perfect.

Even so, I tend to keeping working toward perfection. But the perfection I am really seeking is much greater than the human limitations of perfection. What I am really seeking is Godly perfection, the perfection of Christ. In my own clumsy way, I'm trying to connect with a supernatural, transcendent perfection, Godly perfection. Of course I know that this kind of perfection is beyond my ability to wholly grasp - yet this has not stopped me from trying to grab it bit by bit through my own efforts, repetitiously futile as they are.

I hate to think of myself as a perfectionist. And yet the very thing I do not want to strive to be, knowing it is a hollow and illusive pursuit (not to mention idolatry), I pursue it non-the-less. This blog is an intentional response to the day to day seductions of perfectionism that we all face.