Into the Fire

A lot of us claim to be perfectionists, to our own frustration, annoyance, or even pride. We pursue that perfection in either one thing or everything we do and wind up dissatisfied at the results almost every time we attempt something, knowing if only we could’ve done this or that better, the project would’ve been “just perfect”. As a result there are multiple disappointments, no matter how “mini” they are, in most things we do.

The irony here is that this is a fallen world. Humanity is imperfect from the inside out. We start at a deficit, and we end up as dust. We are not perfect nor will we ever be. Therefore, no matter what we attempt to do it’s ultimately flawed whether in some miniscule and immeasurable way, or in a big fat failure. So am I suggesting we give half-hearted efforts to the work of our hands, minds, bodies, spirits? I am not. What I am saying is that we need to realize that our best is nothing to brag about no matter how great it might look, feel, or appear to be. Without God’s gifting in us, we would still be rolling around in the potter’s wheel with the potter slaving over fixing all the cracks.

I’ve decided it’s arrogant to think we can produce perfection in anything—from attitude to performance. To give and do our best is a simple requirement of who we are in Christ, and it is only through obedience to His Spirit that we’re able to demonstrate any good qualities.

This brings me to the writing gig. It’s easy for those of us who’ve spent time in either observing through much reading, learning through much teaching, and/or absorbing through all methods, to recognize “bad” writing. And, believe me, just because there are some who don’t recognize it doesn’t mean the bad stuff doesn’t exist. No argument there. However, the subjectivity factor plays a huge part in determining the good stuff.

This seeking perfection thing is why I’m a rule-breaker. While the rules prove useful and practical, they are incomplete and assume that all readers must be alike. They give little care to variety and uniqueness—which is precisely why new writers wail and gnash their teeth when they discover each of those touted rules broken in the novels they read.

When we read a novel by a favorite author, we’ve learned to anticipate certain things. If the author delivers on his/her previous “performances”, we most likely enjoy the new book. If we experience his style in a less than impacting story, most of us realize that, hey, this one just wasn’t one of my favorites. Monster is that book for me from Frank Peretti.

When we select a new author in a favorite genre, we attempt to go into the story with few expectations unless of course the book comes highly recommended. Two of those books for me were Sibella Giorello’s first novel The Stones Cry Out and Tosca Lee’s Demon . . . a memoir. Admittedly with such high-falutin’ praise, I went into the stories a little shaky and a little on guard. To their credits neither book disappointed. At all. On the contrary, they excelled and were worthy of their recommendations.

After absorbing and reading the rules of writing, it’s easy for a newer writer to point out every mistake, every perceived flaw in what they read. As if the rules determine perfection. As if any of us could follow any set of rules and produce a perfect story which everyone would love, let alone like. Not gonna happen. And no matter how skilled a writer is, someone is not going to enjoy their work. Someone is going to explain why it’s no good or describe its inferiority to some degree.

Not everyone can know the rules and leave them behind either when they read or when they write. Some are natural editors and apply those inclinations to everyone’s work without prompting. Makes it difficult to enjoy novels.

I think it’s important to realize the pursuit of perfection can be overrated. Being the best we can be to bring honor to the Lord is really what it’s all about. We shunned perfection by exerting our will and have regretted it ever since. Someday we will experience true perfection, and we’ll have a clearer understanding of how flawed our efforts really are.

Father, I’m nothing without you. I’m desperate for you. And you’re all I’m living for. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.