I wrote this over four years ago, but the topic of imperfection came up recently, and my friend’s words brought me to tears and reminded me of this earlier post. She said, “We listen to lots of lies from our enemy, but those lies wouldn’t carry water if there weren’t a semblance of truth in them. It is that smidgeon of truth that makes the lie powerful. And all the positive words can’t remove the truth of the lie. We are imperfect. Here is what does knock the enemy senseless. A perfect God uses our imperfections for his glory. God chose us, called us, saved us, and uses us. Our imperfections won’t be removed until glory. In the mean time, when the devil throws his darts, we deflect them to Jesus. Nothing about my imperfection defers what Jesus is doing through me. It is His work, His process, His perfection. When I focus on that truth, the lies have no power.” Amen, sister!
And by the way, the man who said “I love the imperfection” has since passed away. I wish I’d shown him this post.
Last week, I went into an antique store to browse old furniture. The man who worked there showed me a handmade fireplace mantel. He pointed to the scratches in the wood, and the uneven design along the front. Then he caressed a round, black stain on top of the mantel where a wet glass or candle had stood.
“I love the imperfection of it,” he said.
“What did you say?”
“I love the imperfection,” he repeated, “because that’s what makes antique furniture unique and have character.”
Unique is not a word I’d use to describe the queen-sized bed frame I recently bought. It was manufactured in China, came in a cardboard carton, assembled by yours truly, and seemingly without defect … unlike the reflection of imperfection that stared back at me from a hazy, antique mirror.
I combed my hair with my fingers and left the store asking myself, do…
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