Because everyone loves a good story
In Pursuit of Perfection: Rest
This is it, folks—the final installment. The end of this five-part series has finally come, and believe me when I say I’m quite surprised it took this long to get to the bottom(ish) of the problem of perfectionism.
As I mentioned the first week, I was expecting to write one article on the humorous side of perfectionism, sharing a few anecdotes and some silly scenarios, and then move on to the more alluring subject of Indiana Jones. But God had other plans. It turns out that my pursuit of perfection is really a pursuit of approval, identity, and rest, and thinking through those truths has taken more time than expected. But I’m glad God has taken me on this journey, and this week I’m excited to share what He’s shown me through my quest for rest.
A Familiar Problem
When I read the Bible, I’m often tempted to look down my nose at the Jews. They’re always sinning, forgetting, straying, and floundering. I think, “You silly people. Why can’t you just trust God for once?” Romans 9:31-32 is no exception. It says that “Israel, who pursued a law that would lead to righteousness, did not succeed in reaching that law. Why? Because they did not pursue it by faith, but as if it were based on works.” The Jews knew they needed righteousness, but they wanted to earn it themselves by perfectly keeping every nuance of the law. Fat chance, guys. Everyone knows you can’t earn righteousness like that. When it comes to achieving moral perfection, there’s no such thing as “good enough.”
But just about the time I’m enjoying a good scoff at the Jews’ expense, God taps me on the shoulder and directs my attention to another silly person who’s trying to achieve the “good enough” status on her own. Like Scrooge being shown his past, present, and future, I see how my own habits of perfectionism will end up much uglier than I intended. What a cheery thought this Christmas season!
Just Like the Jews
So as much as I’d like to roll my eyes in derision at the Jews, I need to realize that we’re more similar than I’d like to think. For example, my quest to earn rest is equivalent to the Jews’ quest to earn righteousness because we’re both seeking perfection. Allow me to explain: for the Jews, perfection meant keeping oodles of laws (many of them self-inflicted) so that they could rest in their own righteousness. For me, perfection means finishing my oodles of tasks (many of them self-inflicted) so I can rest in my own accomplishments. And for both of us, we truly believe that we will enjoy that rest…but not quite yet.
See, in my experience, the drive to complete just one more task is insatiable. There’s always a carrot dangling at the end of my to-do list, but I know quite well that I’m unlikely to bite into it any time soon. I tell myself that I’ll rest after this one last teensy-tinsey task, but you know the routine: as I’m working on the teensy-tinsey task, I remember about four other things I needed to do, so I scramble around between them until I’m out of time. I haven’t even completed the original task, and resting is out of the question.
Reinventing the Wheel
Even thinking about this habit makes me tired. But the ironic part is that I’m doing it in pursuit of eventual rest. I like rest! I really do! I just don’t seem to be able to achieve it on my own. I’m driven onward by some inner compulsion to do more and be better. I feel that rest is something I have to earn. And in a sense, it is wise to work first and rest later, but if “later” never comes, then life can get pretty sad and exhausting.
Once again, I find myself in a situation similar to the Jews. Romans 10:3 say, “Being ignorant of the righteousness of God, and seeking to establish their own, they did not submit to God’s righteousness.” God was right there offering them his own righteousness, but they preferred to reinvent the wheel. Their choice wasn’t just futile; it was also arrogant and sinful. I want to be critical of them, but instead I find myself relating. I try to make my own form of righteousness by living up to my own standards. No wonder I can’t rest; that’s an unachievable (and arrogant) task!
The End of the Law
So if I’m unable to grant rest to my body, mind, and soul, then what can I do? Where can I turn? Paul answers that question in the very next verse. Romans 10:4 says that “Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to everyone who believes.” The word “end” here could mean that Christ is the purpose of the law and also the fulfillment or completion of the law, and both of those are great news! For those of us looking for rest in all the wrong places, God gently lifts our eyes from our law-keeping up to Jesus, the end of the law.
We are no longer under obligation to keep the whole law perfectly. We never were, in fact. As Galatians 3:24-25 tells us, the purpose of the law was to point us to our need of a Savior. That’s why there’s no rest for the perfectionist; we’re not built to attain perfection on our own. The more we try to keep the whole law perfectly, the more we realize our own sin. The more we struggle against lethargy and entropy, the more we realize our limitations. Because we could never meet the standard of perfection on our own—from the law or our own expectations—Jesus lived and died perfectly in our place. Christ became the end of the law. Hallelujah!
Rest At Last
So Christ fulfills the law, offering us righteousness in exchange for nothing but mere belief. Our most impressive efforts don’t sweeten the deal for him one bit. Should we still strive to obey God’s law and use our gifts to love him and serve others? Absolutely! But our whole purpose and method will be different. Rather than working until we’ve reached the elusive finish line labeled “good enough,” we can serve and obey in the strength that God provides, and then we can rest.
For me and, I suspect, for you, that’s easier said than done. But the good news is that Christ has compassion on those who have reached the end of themselves. In Matthew 11 Christ offers exactly what we’ve been longing for: rest not just for our bodies but for our souls. He starts by condemning those in the crowd who had seen his miracles but still refused to repent from their obsession with perfect law-keeping. Then he turns his focus to those who are ready for a better way. “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden,” he says, “and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” [Matt. 11:28-29].
A Better Yoke
Do you resonate with the description “all who labor and are heavy laden?” I know I often do. To borrow Jesus’ analogy, I’m a solitary cow wearing a heavy yoke and toiling away with my plow, trying to till up perfection. No wonder I’m heavy laden! Cows aren’t supposed to plow alone. That’s why Jesus compassionately invites me into his yoke. He knows how to plow and when to rest. (Remember, God himself told us to set aside a whole day every week just for rest!)
As we become increasingly “gentle and lowly in heart,” we will find rest not only for our bodies but also for our souls. That’s what I want! The more time I spend learning from Jesus, the lighter my burden will be. The only Perfect One is plowing with me. His righteousness is mine by faith. There is nothing left for me to do but love faithfully, serve humbly, and rest.
Last Thoughts on Perfectionism
Through my study of perfectionism, God has shown me some pretty ugly parts of my character. I’d like to tweak these displays of my personality, but that would be like mowing weeds rather than pulling up the roots. What I really need is a changed heart—one that is humble enough to rejoice in the Perfect One who offers me the approval, identity, and rest that I seek. “He must increase, but I must decrease” [John 3:30].
In Pursuit of Perfection: Identity
Last time we discovered that approval from God isn’t something I can earn, even with my ceaseless efforts to be impressive. It’s only when I “cast my deadly doings down” and come to Jesus for salvation that I find acceptance in Christ. What great news! Because of the cross, God freely gives me the acceptance I could never earn.
So does that doesn’t mean I’ve forsaken my tendency toward perfectionism? Sadly, no. I may be recovering from my need for perfection-fueled approval, but my search for identity is often just as problematic. Read on to see if you can relate.
Who Do You Think You Are?
If you were asked to describe yourself to a group of strangers, how would you go about it? You would probably start with the standard reply: name, age(ish), origin, and occupation. If you were asked to describe yourself to a group of friends or family, you’d skip all that and go straight for descriptions of personality: funny, busy, anxious, organized. But what if people were asked to describe you?
Scary thought, right?
That scary thought exposes my struggle for identity. When I imagine what people think of me and how they would describe me, my perfection gland gets a turbo boost. I begin with a list of adjectives that I want people to think of, and then I begin the futile task of trying to plant the words in their head via a workaholic version of telepathy. If I want them to think of me as intelligent, I read up on discussion topics and ensure the subject comes up. If I want them to consider me thin, I do another workout video and decline the extra cookies. (This is rare, folks.) If I want to be seen as witty, classy, lovely, generous, splendid, and indispensable, I slave away to display these qualities often enough to be noticed.
Description vs. Definition
But the kicker is, how do I know if I’ve achieved it? When I hear one person describe me with one of the desired words? When three people agree with the majority of my list? When everyone on planet earth unanimously shouts, “Emily is witty, classy, lovely, generous, splendid, and indispensable!” All right, the last one would be pretty nice, but I know I’d still manage to doubt my identity. I’d wonder, “Are those really true, or have I just worked hard enough to give the illusion of wit, class, etc.?” In other words, are those how I act or are they really who I am?
See, definitions are much harder than descriptions. Definitions are permanent; they’re true regardless of performance. I may appear generous when I’m well-rested and well-fed, but that doesn’t mean I am truly generous. I want an identity that is true no matter my mood. I want to know who I am. For definitions that carry the weight of ultimate authority—the authority that a Creator has over the creation—I know of only one place to turn: the Bible.
A Relevant Challenge
In Romans 12:2-5, the apostle Paul gives us a glimpse into our true identities, but he starts with a much-needed challenge.
Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind….For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgment…. For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another.
Paul begins by encouraging us to “renew our minds” by letting God’s reality inform our opinion of life. Part of that process is learning to view ourselves as God sees us. It’s funny that Paul specifically warns the Romans against thinking of themselves more highly than they should. If we were to take a poll in America today, I think most of us would say we struggle with poor self-image—whether in body, skill, education, popularity, finance…you name it. But while that may be commonly referred to as a low self-esteem, I think Paul’s warning applies to us just as much. Let me explain.
Thinking of Yourself Less
Paul’s challenge to stop thinking of ourselves too highly is paralleled by his command to think of ourselves with sober judgment. That’s an important delineation. Sober judgment—or sound, honest, truthful judgment—wouldn’t allow me to think of myself as splendid and indispensable, but neither would it permit me to think of myself as worthless and unloved. The latter is as false as the former.
That’s why Paul’s command not to think too highly of ourselves is still applicable. We may not be considering ourselves too highly, in the American sense, but we are probably considering ourselves entirely too much. In Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis says that a truly humble person “will not be thinking about humility: he will not be thinking about himself at all.”1 A sober, humble outlook on life leaves us little time to consider how we’re being perceived. We will be too busy doing things that matter—things like serving the church and loving the world.
Insidious Pride
Which leads us to Pauls’ answer to the question, “Who am I, and how do I fit into God’s plan?” He tells us in verses 4-5 that we are parts of a body—individual members of a greater organism, his Church. Paul expands this analogy in 1 Corinthians 12, insisting that every body part is not only useful but integral to the healthy operation of the whole. In verses 14-19, he combats the woe-is-me attitude we call “low self-esteem” by reminding them of God’s sovereign design. When the eye stares longingly at the helpful hands or the brain thinks jealously about the useful feet, Paul reminds them that they, too, are there for a purpose.
In verses 21-26, Paul shifts the focus from the “low self-esteemers” to the arrogant, warning them against the destructiveness of pride. Author Jon Bloom puts it this way: “Pride is the knife that dissects the body of Christ into isolated parts to determine the value of each. The pride of conceit makes us consider our role or function more important than others. The pride of envy makes us covet the function of a part we consider better than our own….”2 So no matter which side of the self-obsession spectrum we fall on, Paul cautions us about looking for our identity in isolation. Regardless of performance, we are parts of a whole. It’s who we are.
A Pointless Pursuit
Bloom goes on to say, “Just like a body part separated from the body looks strange, so do we out of the context of the church. It takes the body of Christ to understand the function of a part, and it takes all the parts working together to make the body function.”3 Bingo. I’ve been scrambling around trying singlehandedly to create my identity through my work, so it’s no wonder I’m exhausted and disappointed. As a believer, I was never intended to find my identity apart from my place in the body of Christ.
And that’s the whole point. It’s impossible to find a true, lasting, permanent identity in what we do; rather, Christ frees us to serve humbly rather than slaving away in hopes of garnering accolades. I may only be a toe in the body of Christ, and I won’t even be a perfect toe, but it’s a relief to know I don’t have to create my own identity. The Creator has made me to fit a specific role that only I can fill, and that’s even better than being considered splendid and indispensable.
In Conclusion
So will this put a permanent end to my perfectionism? Now that I know my acceptance is in Christ and my identity is part of his Church, I can rest easy, right? Not exactly. Rest is exactly what I’m still searching for, and perfectionism just isn’t supplying it. Next time we’ll see what God has to say about that.
Check out the next post here!
1 https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/838381-do-not-imagine-that-if-you-meet-a-really-humble
2 https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/find-your-self-esteem-in-someone-else
3 https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/find-your-self-esteem-in-someone-else
In Pursuit of Perfection: Approval
“A realist is just a pessimist in disguise.”
Or so my husband sagely observed when I was playing devil’s advocate in yet another one of our conversations. For some reason, whenever we’re making plans, I feel obligated to point out how unlikely it is that everything will go as we hope. For this reason I tend to propose way too many backup plans and alternate options. I consider this being realistic, although I can see where my (optimistic) hubby could confuse it with flat-out pessimism.
Why Perfectionists Are Often Pessimists
But the thing is, those of us who notice the constant struggle against entropy and Murphy’s law know that the pursuit of a perfect plan, like the pursuit of a perfect anything in this life, is sure to go awry at some level. So what’s a body to do? Give up or try harder? So far I’ve chosen to try harder, but after meditating on the truths I’m about to share with you, I may just wave the white flag and join Team Optimist sooner than later. At least they can go with the flow.
So what I’ve been struggling with, as you may remember from last time, is the fact that I can never get what I want out of my ceaseless toil. But that’s because what I want isn’t actually perfection; it’s approval, identity, and rest. As I dug deeper into those desires in light of the Bible, I found some hard news and some good news. Today we’ll look at our need for approval, and we’ll save identity and rest for next time.
The Problem with Approval
So when I work myself to the bone on a project, a gift, or even a simple house task, what am I hoping to gain from it? Sure, part of it is for personal satisfaction. I genuinely like to work hard, as nerdy as that is to admit. But would I do the exact same quality of work if I knew that no one would ever see and recognize how much I’d done? Honestly, I doubt it. I’ve recently realized how much I desire approval for my work because it feels like approval of me.
But it’s not just people whose approval I crave; it’s God’s, too. And that’s the kicker, really. I may get a temporary boost to the ol’ ego when people applaud my achievements, but it doesn’t last. I know that God’s approval is the one that really matters, but how can I know when I’ve gotten it, really?
A Familiar Parable
As I thought about approval, the Bible passage that came to mind was the parable of the servants in Matthew 25. You may be familiar with the story: a master entrusts money to three servants and then leaves town for a while. When he comes back, two of the servants had used the money wisely and doubled what he’d given them, but the third servant had merely hidden the money and gained nothing. The master was pleased with the first two servants but angry with the third. So there’s biblical proof that it’s better to work hard to gain God’s approval rather than slack off and hope he lets it slide. Right?
Wrong-o. On a quick read through, that’s what I’d be tempted to think, but the reality is far different. Listen to the dialogue. The first and second servants basically say, “Here, master. You gave me a lot of money to take care of, and I doubled it while you were away.” The master replies, “Well done, you good and faithful servant. You were faithful. Enter into my joy.”
“I Know You”
But the plot thickens when you hear what the third servant says: “Master, I know you’re harsh and demanding, always taking what you haven’t earned. I was afraid of you, so I hid your money to avoid getting in trouble. Here you go.” The master commands him to be thrown out into the darkness, calling him wicked, lazy, and worthless. Ouch.
But really, aside from lacking tact, what was so wrong with what the third servant did? Did the master really need money that badly? I doubt it; instead, I think the problem can be boiled down to the phrase, “Master, I know you.” That’s where he went wrong; he assumed he knew the heart of the master, but in reality he didn’t. It seems like the servant was assigning blame to cover his own guilt. He was lazy, so he accused the master of being demanding. What outraged the master wasn’t the failure to double his money; it was the arrogant accusation of the servant. He didn’t understand the master’s heart.
Throw Me a Party
But imagine what would have happened if the first servant had come to the master and said, “Here’s your profit, Master. I knew that if I worked my fingers to the bone while you were gone, you would think I was so awesome that you’d throw a party in my honor and tell everyone how proud you are of my hard work and how you wish they’d all be more like me. I know the way to your good graces is by proving how wonderful I am.” (That may remind you of the hard-working but prideful older brother in the parable of the prodigal son.)
Would the master have smiled indulgently and said, “You sure are a hard worker, Servant Number 1! That’s why you deserve to come into the joy of my kingdom”? Certainly not. I have a feeling this guy would have been out on the curb with the third servant. While it’s not quite as insulting to the master, this imaginary workaholic’s response still shows that he doesn’t truly know the master.
The Least of These
So if God doesn’t rejoice in ignorant sloth or arrogant service, then what does he value? I believe the very next parable in Matthew 25 answers that question. It takes place at the final judgment where God is sorting humanity into two groups: those on his right in the place of honor, and those on his left in the place of rejection. Those who are honored and welcomed into the kingdom are those who did simple tasks with humble hearts. They cared for the hungry, thirsty, lost, naked, sick, and imprisoned because their love for God overflowed into practical, unpretentious service to “the least of these.”
At last, we see what God values. It wasn’t their completed to-do lists that earned them a place in the kingdom; rather, their love for God resulted in slow and steady service to those who could never repay them. That’s how God loves us, and that’s how he enables us to love others. Will we ever do this well enough to deserve God’s approval? Nope. The only way God can accept us and make us faithful is by putting us in Christ—giving us Jesus’ perfect record and motivation. He is the only servant who was perfectly faithful and worthy of hearing, “Well done,” but he delights to extend that acceptance to every believer. 1 Praise God!
In Conclusion
While there is much more to be said on the subject of salvation and imputation, today I simply want to revel in the truth that, as believers, approval isn’t something we need to strive for; it’s something we have already. The more we know the heart of the Father, the more we’ll understand that. The third servant didn’t know the father, and the older brother didn’t care about him, but the humble servants knew him and loved him. That is the mission most worth doing and the only one that brings eternal approval. Now that’s something even a pessimist can get excited about!
Check out the next post here!
1https://rabbitroom.com/2018/02/behind-the-song-well-done-good-and-faithful/
In Pursuit of Perfection: The Sickness
Should.
That little six-letter word holds great power over me.
I can’t remember exactly when my obsession with perfection began, but since I’m a firstborn, it was probably sometime in utero. I do remember that, even as a kid, the first thing I’d do with my pile of Christmas loot was hurry to my room so I could put everything where it belonged. I should put everything away. I was no scholar in junior high, but once I cracked the code of how to study in high school and college, I became hooked on the high of seeing 100% on everything. I should study to get A’s. And that was just the beginning.
As a teacher, I should do hours of research for questions no one will ask. As a pregnant mom, I should read a dozen book on natural birth and implement their every suggestion. As a new mom, I should find the very best way to feed and entertain my baby. I should finish reading books that don’t interest me, spend 10 minutes brushing and flossing my teeth every night, make organic food from scratch, take on projects that will be too much for me, clean the house when I want to read, balance the budget when I want to rest, and write a blog post when I need to sleep. (Oops.) Now, there are certain pockets of chaos that I choose not to tame (hello, junk food), so I guess that makes me a selective perfectionist. But in general, if there’s a good, better, and best way of doing something, I feel obligated to choose the “best” and shun the rest.
Basically, I’m a “best practices” junkie.
Sorry, Not Sorry
Yet even as I list those examples, I don’t feel ashamed. Instead, I feel pretty good about myself. What I had intended as confession has bordered on boasting. That’s why words like “perfectionist” and “workaholic” are slippery little buggers. When we use them to describe ourselves, we hope we’re coming across as self-deprecating. “Oh, I guess I’m just a workaholic. Yah, I tend to be a perfectionist.” But we put such a thin coat of shame over those admissions that the neon paint of pride bleeds through loud and clear. We say we have a problem, but our lips are tingling with the toot of our own horns.
All right, so we’re perfectionists, and we’re proud of it. What’s so bad about that? That’s the question I’d been asking myself, but only recently did I find a plausible rebuttal. To be honest, it’s also a convicting rebuttal. That’s why my desire to discuss the humorous struggles of perfectionism morphed into a three-week examination of the deeper issue. And the deeper issue boiled down to this: if my pursuit of perfection is a good thing, then why is my heart so restless?
Behind the Façade
As a selective perfectionist (::smiles smugly while polishing various medals for being selectively perfect::), I can attest to the fact that there’s no peace in this pursuit. Oh, sure, there’s the temporary satisfaction that comes from organizing things, finishing a task, and scratching jobs off of a to-do list. It’s cathartic, really.
But even as I bask in completion, the niggling questions begin. What about the rest of the list? What about tomorrow? What about the things you can’t organize? What about the things you finished but know you should have done better? I live to the soundtrack of Inner Condemnation’s Greatest Hits: “If Only I Had Planned Better,” “I Should Have Tried Harder,” and “Why Didn’t I Research This?” Catchy, aren’t they?
Here’s the Rub
The reason my mind plays those depressing little jingles on repeat is that, deep down, I know this lifestyle offers no peace for me. The harder I flap my wings toward perfection, the more they begin to melt. (It’s not that I’m getting too close, mind you…it’s just the friction.) This is going to be a problem. But you, clever reader, knew the problem before I even began waxing eloquent, didn’t you? The problem is that perfection isn’t achievable on earth. Even countless hours of preparation and labor never guarantee the desired outcome. In a fallen world, I can toil all day long, but it won’t make the tiniest dent in the disorder. Chaos rages onward despite my most concerted efforts, a tsunami against a cocktail umbrella.
So if I work hard but never get the payoff I want, then what’s driving me to continually chase this carrot? That question drove me to pray, which is always risky if I don’t actually want to get a glimpse inside my heart. As I prayed, God began to reveal that my desire isn’t actually for perfection after all; my deeper desire, it seems, is for approval, identity, and rest.
The Big Three
Approval, identity, and rest. Those are pretty basic human needs. I mean, they’re not quite on the same plane as food, water, and oxygen, but as soon as we have those needs met, we find that we have leisure to start scrounging around for validation. So if these are universal human needs, then they should be easy to satisfy, right? Wrong.
My break-neck quest for these very good things keeps throwing me like a crash test dummy against the brick wall of reality. And the reality is that no matter how long and how hard I try, I’ll never manage to extract approval, identity, or rest out of my work. It’s like trying to squeeze orange juice from an acorn; it’s just not in there. So while work is a blessing and a noble calling (work was around even before Adam and Eve sinned, you know), it can never give me approval, identity, or rest. Those are three needs I can never meet on my own.
The Good News
Now, if that were the last word on the subject, I would despair. If our work (or play or individuality or apathy) can never gain us sufficient approval, unchanging identity, or lasting rest, then what’s the point? This is why plenty of people think, “Let’s eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” Or, in slightly-less-outdated vernacular, “YOLO.” But you, clever reader, have surely noticed the qualifying statement—I said I can’t meet these needs on my own. It’s not within me. But does that mean it isn’t anywhere at all? No. Hallelujah, no!
In an analogy that C.S. Lewis is fond of using, he points out that “…creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food.” Does that mean everyone will find satisfaction for their desires? No, not if they’re looking in the wrong places. My baby has eaten bits of paper, cardboard, and sticks. It must be fun, but it’s not filling. Desire doesn’t guarantee satisfaction.
So how is this good news? Lewis continues, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing.”1
Aha! Good news at last! My need for approval, identity, and rest can be satisfied! But where and how I must save for next time, I’m afraid. Forgive me for yet another cliff-hanger, but when compared with an ultra-long post, it seemed the lesser of two evils. For now, take heart in the fact that there are answers. And then, my perfectionistic friend, take a nap.
In case you missed last week’s post, check it out here! It’s just the encouragement you need after a weighty post like this.
And be sure to read the next post here!
1 C.S. Lewis Quote from Mere Christianity: https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/462154-the-christian-says-creatures-are-not-born-with-desires-unless
Check Out This Song!
This isn’t the post I was intending to write today. In fact, this won’t be a full post at all. It’s really just a pre-post. (Talk about an oxymoron.)
So here’s the scoop: I began writing an article about one small idea (my tendency toward perfectionism), but it grew into a much bigger idea, its roots spreading obtrusively into topics and implications that I didn’t intend. But the spreading was good because it revealed some parts of my heart that had been hiding from the light.
Sorry, I don’t mean to be cryptic. I promise to be as forthcoming as possible once I’ve had more time to organize my thoughts in the coming week. But by way of a teaser trailer, I’d like to leave you today with a beautiful song that has been immensely helpful as I consider the topic of perfectionism. It’s called “It Is Finished,” or “Nothing Either Great or Small,” and it was written by James Proctor in 1864. I’ll post his original lyrics for you to read, and I’ll also add a link to a beautiful rendition performed by a church worship team called You Me & The Bread. I hope you’ll join me in meditating on its beautiful truths!
So for now, I leave you with a song and a promise to share much more next time.
“It Is Finished”
Nothing, either great or small—
Nothing, sinner, no;
Jesus died and paid it all,
Long, long ago.
Refrain
“It is finished!” yes, indeed,
Finished, ev’ry jot;
Sinner, this is all you need,
Tell me, is it not?
When He, from His lofty throne,
Stooped to do and die,
Ev’rything was fully done;
Hearken to His cry!
Refrain
Weary, working, burdened one,
Wherefore toil you so?
Cease your doing; all was done
Long, long ago.
Refrain
Till to Jesus’ work you cling
By a simple faith,
“Doing” is a deadly thing—
“Doing” ends in death.
Refrain
Cast your deadly “doing” down—
Down at Jesus’ feet;
Stand in Him, in Him alone,
Gloriously complete.
Refrain
Better Than Knowledge
Knowledge is good.
Knowledge has brought us Aristotle, Da Vinci, Shakespeare, and Bill Watterson. It’s given us modern medicine, a better understanding of outer space, the ability to talk with loved ones from across the country, a vast system of information at the click of a button, and a plethora of ways to make a great cup of coffee. Knowledge lets us relate to friends, understand coworkers, and help those in need. Knowledge is a tasty carrot at the end of the college string. It’s a formidable ally in the fight against foolishness. It’s a floodlight to expose hidden injustice.
So knowledge is good.
But knowledge without love is nothing.
Knowledge without love yields boasting, gossip, blackmail, manipulation, corruption in the political scene, weapons of mass destruction, and talk radio. Knowledge without love makes us brains without hearts, tongues without bridles, bulldozers without steering. Knowledge without love creates debaters, one-uppers, and smug talkers.
Knowledge without love is incomplete, like a child’s understanding of Einstein’s physics. It’s imperfect, like a warped reflection in the carnival’s house of mirrors. And it’s transient, the moon-sliver of knowledge setting when the sun of perfect love shatters the darkness.
But knowledge is good.
Yes, knowledge is good, but love is better.
Love precludes the pernicious parts of knowledge: boasting, arrogance, stubbornness, resentment, crookedness. Instead, love ensures that knowledge is used rightly—to advocate, defend, restrain, imagine, create, extend grace, choose joy, and offer forgiveness. And this is only possible because Love Himself has done it for us. While His knowledge of our hearts is perfect (even the parts we’d die before admitting), His love for us is also perfect. That’s why, with full knowledge of our unworthiness, He died to make us whole.
So knowledge is good.
Yes, knowledge is good, but love is better, and one day love will transform knowledge.
Consider that the first sin was in pursuit of knowledge: the desire to know good and evil. The knowledge that was purported to make us like God estranged us from Him and has brought us little but tragedy ever since—a tragic irony. The knowledge of evil began the curse and keeps it going. You could say that knowledge brought death.
But one day mere knowledge will be obsolete, replaced instead with experience—a postcard snapshot superseded by a Grand Canyon hike. Where we know in part, we will then know in full. Our mind and heart will be united, and any discord between the two will vanish in the presence of God. Compared with the depth of that experience, our most impressive tidbit of knowledge will be passé. Scientific laws, psychological theories, and systematic theology will be kindergarten coloring pages. Love Himself will expel our delusions and our pride like a cellar door thrown wide open to the sunshine.
When we see Him face to face, our partial knowledge will become perfect experience. When we see Him, we will know Him even as we are known. When we see Him, we will be made like Him. Knowledge turned to experience is everlasting life.
Even so, come quickly, Lord Jesus.
So knowledge is good. Yes, knowledge is good, but love is better.
Love is best of all.
Disney’s Star Wars: Characters and Effects
Disney’s Star Wars. It just feels wrong to write that.
Anyway, we saw last time that Disney’s Star Wars plots ranged from familiar to fresh, and the themes included self-doubt and moral relativism. But what did you think about the characters and effects of the new movies? I’ll tell you what I thought, starting with the inclusion of your favorite heroes—Luke, Leia, and Han.
CHARACTERS
Casting
Disney hopped on the Star Wars film train with enough time to rope in the Big Three: Mark Hamill, Carrie Fisher, and Harrison Ford. But honestly, I felt sorry for Fisher and Ford. Carrie felt the pressure of looking unaged, despite the fact that she was now nearly 60 instead of 19, and if Harrison looked a little extra rugged, it’s because he was 72! Mark, 65 when The Last Jedi was released, seemed to hold up just fine despite the car accident that beat up his face in 1977. Since Return of the Jedi, much of his work in Hollywood has been voice acting or TV show cameos, so I wonder if he, at least, was excited to resume the role of Luke Skywalker.
Regardless, Disney made a smart choice in incorporating these three into their films for one reason: it was sure to draw in the faithful fans of the originals, even if we were begrudging and skeptical about it. But Disney also featured plenty of new actors, most of them previously unknown, and I think that was smart. Had they tried to take, say, Brad Pitt or Anne Hathaway and turn them into Star Wars characters, it would have stretched viewers beyond credulity. New faces gave new fans a chance to get interested in the new Star Wars.
Relatable Motives
As with the originals, all of the characters are on some sort of personal quest amidst the grand scheme of the overall story. In Episodes VII-VIII, we see Finn’s determination to escape the empire, Rey’s hope of discovering her parents, Kylo Ren’s desire to live up to Vader’s legacy, Han and Leia’s attempt at salvaging their son, and Luke’s efforts to avoid responsibility. Overarching these quests is the greater plot: find the map, blow up the planet killer, enlist Luke’s help, avoid the First Order, and stay alive. All the sub-plots and personal journeys keep the story moving even if the “Death Star III” storyline is a bit hackneyed.
Rogue One and Solo depict selfish and two-faced villains as well as jaded and reluctant heroes—a fact we discussed last time. In Rogue One Cassian and his friends wanted to justify their gritty work for the Rebellion, and Jyn Erso wanted to clear her father’s name. I found their lack of enthusiasm believable, although they both end up caring about the greater cause eventually. In Solo, a much more lighthearted film, we see Han Solo’s backstory. He is betrayed again and again, but surprisingly he doesn’t seem very fazed by it. If they wanted to show how Han became the mercenary we see in A New Hope, I feel like they missed the mark. He was still hopeful, helpful, and almost altruistic at the end of Solo. Maybe they’re saving the story of his selfishness for the next film, Solo and Jaba: An Unlikely Friendship. (That’s a joke. I hope.)
Clear and Confusing Motives
I think the most important aspect of character motivation in Solo is at the very end when Han and Beckett are at a face-off. At last, we are given a definitive answer to the question, “Who shot first?” Han did. Han shot first. But you already knew that, didn’t you?
However, of all the motivations in these newer films, I think I’m most confused by Snoke and Kylo’s idolization of Darth Vader. I mean, sure, he was good at being bad for almost three movies, but in the end, the guy was a sellout! He killed his master (a classic Sith move) in order to destroy the Empire and aid the Rebellion (not a classic Sith move). If Snoke wanted Kylo Ren to channel his inner Vader, I guess he got what he asked for. He should have pushed him to be more like Darth Sidious. At least that dude was bad to the bone.
And, as a side note, I’m also confused about Disney’s motives in including so much more cursing in these movies. I mean, I don’t enjoy that in movies at all, much less in movies touted to be child-friendly. But even from the standpoint of universe coherence, it doesn’t make sense for them to be using Earth-based curse words. While the six original films included a few cuss words here and there, they relied more on in-universe curses like “Nerf herder,” “Bantha fodder” or “Bantha poodoo.” That communicates the same thing without breaking the story’s spell and jarring the viewers out of their temporary belief in a galaxy far, far away.
TECHNICAL STUFF
Visual Effects
As I mentioned before, there was never any doubt that Disney would make some beautiful movies. After all, Amazon owns one half of the world, and Disney owns the other half; therefore, Mickey and his cohorts should be able to pull off some stunning effects. And they didn’t disappoint: the drifting snow and falling sparks during Rey and Kylo’s duels, the ancient Jedi island, the light speed destruction of the First Order’s ship, and the red salt planet are just a few examples of visually captivating scenes. Lucas started the movies the right way by choosing vastly different settings for each film, and Disney has followed in his footsteps.
Lucas also began by using loads of puppets, masks, and costumes to create his creatures, but he ended by using CGI for several of them, including Yoda. Many fans (including yours truly) preferred the “real” Yoda to the more high-tech one, so the director of The Last Jedi created a copy of the original puppet. Sadly, Yoda still looked weird to me, but it was a nice gesture. I did love all the physical costuming in Maz Kanata’s castle because they looked as real and grubby as the cantina in Mos Eisley. In my opinion, the CG General Tarkin also looked fantastic (at least on lower-resolution theater screens), but the young Princess Leia was all wrong. She scared me. But all in all, Disney’s visual effects were impressive.
Musical Scores
You know I’ve had lots (possibly too much) to say about John Williams’ work for Episodes I-VI, but I don’t have nearly as much to say about the newer scores. In fact, you could have told me that any other composer wrote the scores for Episodes VII-VIII, and I’d almost have believed you. Don’t get me wrong—the music is still beautiful, but mainly because it incorporates so many of the old themes.
So while I have nothing to complain about with the new scores, I also have to say that they weren’t spectacular. None of the new themes stood out to me. Nothing felt iconic. But I don’t blame the composer for that; in fact, if I were John Williams, I’d purposely write a good score instead of a great one just to emphasize that you can only build on the same franchise for so long before you’re just beating a dead Gungan. (Does any particular Gungan come to mind?) All that to say, even if the recent Star Wars films don’t showcase it fully, John Williams is still the king of composers.
IN CONCLUSION
Overall, I’ve enjoyed Disney’s Star Wars films as regular movies—even as space fantasy movies. They’re well done, and they appeal to a wide audience. But despite this, I’m not sure I’m ready to accept them into the official Star Wars canon alongside Lucas’s works. In my mind, there’s more to making a Star Wars movie than simply handing someone a light saber—whether it’s Mickey Mouse or Kylo Ren. A true Star Wars movie needs a little magic (or maybe the Force), and I’m not sure we’ll find that in Disney.
Today’s Question: What would you have changed about any of Disney’s Star Wars movies?
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