Keeping a minimal account of my life in 2016 has enabled me to witness how I have changed and grown in such quick months. I can see small, seemingly insignificant changes in my handwriting and in the choice of pen and ink color. I have realized I've become quite particular in the pens I use for certain occasions. For instance, a fine point pen with a comfortable grip should absolutely be used for pleasure and the cheap pens are used for less important reasons, like academics. You may call me a pen snob, but it is clear evidence there is change within.
On a more noticeable scale, I can also see changes in my beliefs, dreams, and passions through the content of paragraphs I sloppily composed at then end of lengthy days. Journaling has allowed me to revisit thoughts, fears, favorite memories, and prayers that comprise an entire year of me.
The theme I hope an outsider's eyes would first pick up on is the freedom found in the evolution of my friend group at Hardin-Simmons University. The impact friendship has had on me is distinct when perusing through sentences I crafted. Second semester college returnees who hardly knew each other in January gradually transformed into a group of people who laugh A LOT around cafeteria and library tables, constantly teach and encourage me, celebrate birthdays and early holidays together, and have a casual Bible study weekly by the beginning of December. It has been so easy to find reason for thankfulness in conversation with God because of the friends He placed in my life. I have learned more about Jesus, myself, and community because of the people who I interact with most at HSU.
A grand portion of my entries were dedicated to my summer's tales. A prominent experience I will remember fondly for years to come was my stateside internship with iGo Global in the DFW metroplex this summer. Being a part of Jimmy (the collective name iGo interns go by) taught me something in every aspect of my life. I expectantly learned about mission mobilization, office work, and how to load a box truck, but I did not anticipate the full capacity of spiritual and personal growth I would encounter. I prayed for Jimmy during the months leading up to the summer, but I did not know my prayers (and the gracious prayers of others) would allow me to gain tremendous perspective on the importance of unity, four incredible friends, and a greater knowledge of how God works in unimaginable ways to make His name famous. It's a rare day when I don't think of how those nine weeks better shaped me as a servant, friend, and believer.
While I do not believe I could not have possibly known the extent of what God would do in my friendships and through Jimmy, I don't think I was ever stunned by the words I tangled together. I was initially shocked to find myself writing a debate on whether or not to change my major in late August and I now love rereading how I felt after visiting several professors and officially changing my major. But even that isn't much of a surprise when I wrote about wanting to be an author, publisher, editor, or journalist back on January 2nd. {1.2.16: I want to be someone who tells stories and helps other people tell their own.} In retrospect, it seems like I had spent months prodding myself to study English even though I felt so confused about it at the beginning of the fall semester. Most of life isn't so surprising when you look back over your shoulder. Most of it makes sense because you have lived it.
I am still confused by much though. I was blindsided, and a bit insulted, to discover the sins I would allow to choke me. Sin seems to sneak up on a person. It never walks into the room following an applauding introduction--at least not in my life. I find sins are not abrupt in manner, but rather they are gradual and quite unnoticeable for what it truly is at the first handshake and polite smile. It seems sin often befriends me and makes me look good. Sin is only a struggle if it can make a convincing argument of what you have to gain from continuing.
Sparked by a healthy desire to do well in school, be a thoughtful friend, and ultimately be my best, I did not know it could be bad. I did not know it could cause me to spend countless hours in the early morning covering my pillow with tears. She complimented me at the first handshake and politician-like smile.
"Hard working."
"You really care about what you do."
"You work with excellence."
"I didn't ask anyone else because I knew you could handle it."
Affirming words will get me every time.
Perfectionism sure did fool me.
I didn't know striving for excellence could overflow into friendships and faith resulting in me feeling like I am not doing enough; like I am not enough.
Honestly, I did not know I was a perfectionist until the most recent weeks. Dear ole retrospect has assisted me in revealing how this came to be.
I remember desperately wanting to do well as Jimmy, and while this stemmed from a healthy place of wanting to serve God and iGo well, I often found myself hoping for Jimmy to be "impressive" and "liked" by staff and students. It's ridiculous, but it's engraved in my memory. I remember apologizing to my fellow Jimmy, Brittney, one day and her saying, "You don't need to be so hard on yourself." Or when Jack told me I said, "I'm sorry" too much, or the numerous times Reagan would tell me, "You're great!" when I clearly was worrying about the next task. At the time I didn't think I was hard on myself, apologized too much, or needed constant encouragement, but spoiler: I did.
I remember a lunch conversation about perfectionism with my friend Bryson one day in the fall. I had just presented a group project in a theology class and was noticeably upset because I thought it had gone terribly. Bryson told me it probably went way better than I thought because things always do. I laughed, dismissed his assurance, and unconfidently said, "I'm not a perfectionist." His quick reply? "Yes, you are. I knew it last year when I had New Testament with you." I shrugged it off. Whatever. Perfectionist? Not me.
I remember being achingly disappointed with myself in late October because I had been sure balancing all of my responsibilities with academics and friendships would be super simple, but it hardly was. I was frustrated I couldn't invest as much or do as well as my pre-semester goals stated and was quick to assume I needed to figure out a way to have more time to do better and love more. I compared myself to a version of who I wanted to be and was perturbed when the semester wasn't unfolding to be what I had wanted. Feeling like I was being an awful friend was weighing down everything else sitting at the top of the pity pile. I discouraged myself.
I don't believe perfectionism starts off as a sin, but it made the jump in my life when I started caring more about what people were thinking of the work I was doing and comparing myself to standards the gospel doesn't require of me. Perfectionism easily grows into legalism if it's not tamed. The recap of 2016 makes me sad I let an originally healthy desire to serve wholeheartedly as Jimmy take a poor dive into a desire to do everything exceptionally well--especially friendship.
Thankfully, God surrounded me with the most gracious human beings at school. Despite my lack of confession to being a perfectionist, my friends constantly encouraged me and loved me even when I couldn't make time to hang out or verbalized fears that I wasn't doing "good enough" in a position or class. They unknowingly taught me I don't have to do the best so long as I am doing what I can with what I have. {11.20.16: This semester has been so hectic and at times really discouraging (because perfectionism), but I am always so encouraged by and thankful for my friends.} Friendship is freedom when your friends are living representations of the gospel.
God used the precious time I had to ponder and reflect during Christmas break to remind me of grace.
While reading Mark one night, a short phrase in the story of a woman anointing Jesus with perfume emboldened itself.
The story found in Mark 14:3-9 introduces Jesus as he reclines at the table with Simon the Leper when a woman enters with a fancy jar full of expensive perfume which she breaks and pours on Jesus's head. Some of the people found this unacceptable and scolded her because it's a huge waste of money and would have been better spent helping the poor. Jesus defends the woman by explaining she has done a beautiful thing by preparing his body for his future burial and then says her deed will be told wherever the gospel is preached.
This story is a beautiful reminder of what the focus of our intentions should be. The first sentence of verse 8 is what broke me though.
"She did what she could."
This woman's act might seem minuscule to reader's over two millennia later, but at a closer look, it's anything but small. She used her nicest perfume to anoint the Savior of the world who would take the place of humanity on a cross a few days later. She gave what was within her ability. She probably wasn't a perfectionist, but knew she had a gift for the Lord. She did what she could.
It took me 24 paragraphs to get to my point because I needed the record to show future me the flaws that tag along with perfectionism and to be reminded of God's grace and faithfulness.
Oh, let it be evident in the journal entries sloppily written late at night in the years to come that
she did what she could.
_______________________________________
What is the standard I am holding myself to?
Perfection.
How did I let this take such a grip on my life?
Have I forgotten grace?
Have I ever even truly known grace?
I am overwhelmed with my fear of not being
"good enough."
Who am I?
Good enough for who?
Who do I have to impress?
Myself?
Myself.
Am I so worried of being a disappoint to young me?
A "If I'd only done that..." to elderly me?
Am I afraid of being a burden upon myself?
YES.
I am terrified.
I am frustrated.
I feel like I am mediocre at best in all aspects of my life.
I cry so much in the midnight, but trudge on smiling in the sunshine.
I am afraid I will be an occupational disaster.
YET,
He says, "Do not fear."
He says, "I am here."
I am so untrusting.
so untrusting.
What will come of me?
He says, " Do not worry."
He courageously dies on a cross and says,
"Trust me."
Oh, good God of all creation,
How could you love me?
How does your grace even cover my refusal?
How powerful! How beautiful!
I am sorry.
I do not know how to have grace within.
Kill this perfectionism.
This disgustingly treacherous sin that keeps me in a pin.
How did I let this get in?
Forgive me.
I am sorry.
Help me-
trust Thee.
