Ann Voskamp wrote a challenging message on women judging women. She questioned us about “holding each other to a standard of perfection instead of letting us all be held by the arms of grace.” I read her post and then listened to the audio. And then I thought about my own life, not only in my judgement of others, but also in my assumption that others must be judging me.
Why would I think that? Why would I naturally assume that someone cares about the size of my waist-minimizing jeans, fading blond-ness (actually dishwater brown-ness), and living room arrangement of a dysfunctional (but oh-so-stylish) couch, teak hand-me-downs, and crazy rock quarry-inspired room divider (wall panel?).
Every part of me wants to be perfect—the perfect wife and mother, the perfect friend and co-worker. Every part of me assumes you’re standing there waiting to say, “Gotcha!”
On Saturday a special bouquet of flowers arrived from a friend—beautiful, fragrant flowers—lilies, roses, and gerbera daisies—pinks, hot pinks, and lavenders. Not a perfect stem in the mix, but each one was just gorgeous, all beautifully arranged.
Nope, we’re not perfect. But we’re each absolutely gorgeous and together we’re beautifully arranged.
“We are not here to be perfect. We are here to be real—to let Christ be real in us.”