Because everyone loves a good story
Awful Poetry for Children: A Small Rant
“Puppy wuppy loves his tasty bone.
Watch him wagging his little tail as he is running all the way home.”
I’ll be the first to admit I’m no poetic genius. I don’t read nearly as much as I should, and I’d certainly be cast out by true poetry snobs. But even I have to protest about the quality of some of the stuff passing as “children’s poetry” these days.
I wrote the poem above as an example, but it’s so close to one of my son’s books that it’s scary. I’m not here to throw any individual author under the bus, but I’m sure you can think of several books that are just as bad, am I right? So what’s the problem with children’s poetry these days, and what can be done about it? Let’s take a look.
A Dismal Realization
Although I don’t read a lot of poetry, I do enjoy styles as diverse as Shakespeare’s sonnets, Emily Dickinson’s musings, Shel Silverstein’s gags, and Gerard Manly Hopkins’ meaningful wordplay. They don’t all have a set meter (which is the rhythm of a poem) or rhyme scheme (which is the pattern of vowel sounds), but they all pay careful attention to detail and word selection. Sheesh, even Dr. Seuss is a master of meter and rhyme! (Does it still count if you’re making up the rhyming words? I’ll assume it does.) To me, the quality of the poem matters just as much as the content.
So imagine my chagrin as I’ve been reading books to my 1-year-old son and realizing, “Wow, some of this stuff is garbage.” Granted, the writers may be very busy people. They may have grander aspirations than churning out couplets about farm animals. They may feel they don’t need to perfect one little poem for one little book since it’s just for kids anyway. They may want to be real writers some day, for heaven’s sake!
Well, mister, let me tell you how I feel about that.
The Writer Loses
First off, if an author tries very hard to write a good poem for children but it turns out rather poorly, I wouldn’t really blame him. I would blame the editor for passing it and the publisher for printing it, but I probably wouldn’t blame the author for writing it. If, however, an author feels that children aren’t mature enough to need good poetry or interested enough to want good poetry, then I would strongly disagree. And I would smack his face with a wet noodle.
Even if the quality of a book didn’t matter once it was published, the author who slacked off would still be doing himself a disservice. All current writing is practice for future writing. If an author allows himself to write sloppy poems because he thinks it doesn’t matter, then he’s missing a chance to hone his skill and sharpen his mind. He’s also revealing that he doesn’t respect his readers—neither the small ones or the big ones. Reading poems like “puppy wuppy” feels like being consigned to a 10-page trip to purgatory. No author should have that kind of omnipotence.
The Reader Loses
But the ones who suffer most at the hands of lazy children’s authors are, of course, the children. To use an analogy, everyone knows the maxim, “You are what you eat.” (And yes, I’m aware of the irony of writing this one-handed while I polish off a Christmas cookie. Seriously.) But studies show that a child’s first 500 days of life—from conception to age 2—are the most critical for nutrition. Their diet during these formative months may help determine their immune systems, allergies, and even which genetic characteristics to display. No pressure, moms.
My real point here, as I’m sure you see, is that our literary diets always have a direct correlation to our mental structure, but I believe the most crucial time to read good books is during childhood. To quote a very non-scientific source, Kathleen Kelly says it perfectly in the movie “You’ve Got Mail”: “When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does.” I couldn’t agree more.
Good Books Are for Everyone
Childhood reading even directs the taste for future books. Dr. Seuss may lead to Silverstein, Kipling, and Shakespeare, but poorly-written books may dampen a child’s desire and squelch his interest in future reading. How many of you thought you “hated reading” only to find out later that you hated reading boring books but loved reading good books? Plenty, I’d wager. But I’ve known many high school students who retained their “hatred of reading” because they’d never been exposed to better books. That makes me shed teardrops on my tomes. Brethren, these things ought not so to be!
So rather than dumbing down poems intended for children, why not give them well-crafted, age-appropriate poems and teach them to enjoy it? That’s the sort of thing C.S. Lewis was passionate about. He wholeheartedly believed that a book which wasn’t good enough for adults wasn’t good enough for children, either. This doesn’t mean that the book should include agendas, jokes, or innuendos intended for the parent reading the book. Rather, it means that if an author churns out garbage, he can’t expect anyone to enjoy it—not even a child. “We can be sure,” Lewis says, “that whatever does not concern us deeply will not deeply interest our readers, whatever their age.”1
The Choice to Be Choosy
The more I consider this topic, the more I’m determined to read better books to my boy. Sure, he’s only one and isn’t taking copious notes on the poetic structure of his bedtime books…yet. But his mind is a little sponge, and he’s already absorbing the rhythm and rhyme of language. (He’s quite advanced, you know.) The books I read him will teach him what is good, beautiful, true, and worthy of imitation.2
The choice of quality literature will become even more important over the next few years as well, and I want to be up for the challenge. That’s why I’m asking you, dear reader, for recommendations. What are some well-written children’s books that you’ve enjoyed? Who is a children’s poet that you would recommend? Feel free to leave a comment below!
As for me, I think I’ll go stash some better books on my baby’s night stand. So long for now!
Sources:
1 C.S. Lewis, On Three Ways of Writing for Children
2 Philippians 4:8
The Fun of Indiana Jones 1-3: Part 2
The heroism and action of Indiana Jones may owe a lot to James Bond,1 but the horror, humor, and style pull from different sources altogether. Want to see a few ingredients that have made the franchise memorable for over forty years? Let’s take a look.
HORROR LIKE HITCHCOCK
Melting faces, cascading corpses, seething snakes, and hordes of bugs, bats, and rats: sounds like a real horror movie, right? But these are just a few of the unnerving images we get to enjoy in Indiana Jones. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a big ol’ chicken when it comes to scary movies. I mean, I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life; reality is scary enough. So while I don’t make a habit of watching anything Hitchcock, every red-blooded American has seen enough clips from Psycho and The Birds to become familiar with his style. That’s why I still feel qualified to cite the Hitchcockian influence on Indiana Jones.2
If the scariest part of the movies was a bug infestation or a boxcar full of snakes, though, the term “horror” might be an overstatement. But Lucas and Spielberg crossed the line in The Temple of Doom. Once you show a pagan priest ripping a man’s heart out through his chest, you’ve left Spookyville and entered Horror City, a fact that many parents asserted after their children watched this PG-rated violence. Thus, the PG-13 rating was born, and we’ve all been more forewarned and forearmed ever since.3 Personally, I was glad the other Indy films weren’t quite so gruesome. Bugs? Sure. Human sacrifice? Not so much.
CLASSIC HUMOR
But it’s not all blood and guts with Indiana Jones. The films’ lighthearted tone keeps them from wallowing in the macabre. Even The Temple of Doom starts out with a jazzy little musical number by Willie Scott, the ditzy female lead. Although poisoning, shooting, screaming, and general mayhem ensue afterward, the music and dialogue keep us entertained rather than worried.
One of my favorite funny moments from Raiders of the Lost Ark is when Marion is modeling her satin nightgown in front of a dusty, double-sided mirror while Indy is gingerly examining his injured face on the other side. When she flips the mirror to get a better look at herself, she cracks him in the jaw with the wooden frame and sends him howling to kingdom come. I love that kind of gag. And if Lucas and Spielberg were trying to make up for the heaviness of The Temple of Doom by making The Last Crusade the funniest of all, I think they nailed it. The father/son dynamic between the Jones boys is perfect.
ICONIC STYLE
To me, the final aspect that makes the films so memorable is the iconic style of the costume, music, characters and quotes. First, everyone knows that Indiana Jones is synonymous with a bull whip, a leather jacket, and a brown fedora. While there’s nothing unique or surprising about his costume, it has become a staple of the visual vernacular of film.
And when it comes to the most recognizable film scores, Indiana Jones is among the best. The main theme is triumphant and energetic, the catchy brass melody urging you to sally forth on an adventure, while the romantic strings section causes you to swoon. Great work, as always, Williams!
Characters
Time would fail me to enumerate all the characters who deserve attention in this trilogy, but I have to acknowledge Sallah and Henry Jones, Sr. Sallah shows up in two movies, and he really does have some of the best lines. In Raiders of the Lost Ark, he and Indy peer down into an ancient crypt that’s crawling with snakes. “Asps,” Sallah observes. “Very dangerous. You go first.” Also in Raiders, Sallah and Indy are scheming about the location of the Ark as a hitman secretly pours poison on a bowl of dates. A monkey eats one and kicks the bucket just before Indy tosses a date up in the air for himself. Sallah reaches out and grabs it just before it enters Indy’s awaiting mouth. For Casual Understatement of the Year award, I nominate the line, “Bad dates.”
Dr. Henry Jones, Sr., is Indy’s father and the perfect foil to his character. While he’s hopeless in physical combat, he’s the perfect blend of dorky, blundering, and wise. The Last Crusade has some great moments, like Indy’s discovery that his father had previously slept with Indy’s current fling. Henry protests, “Well, I’m as human as the next man,” to which Indy replies, “I was the next man.” But despite all Henry’s shortcomings as a father, he finally gives Indy what he wants—his full attention and preferred name: “Indiana, let it go.” Lucas and Spielberg really hit a homerun with this duo.
Quotes
You’ve got to love the quotability of these films! In Raiders, Marion remarks that a beat-up-looking Jones isn’t the man she knew ten years ago, to which he replies, “It’s not the years, honey. It’s the mileage.” In Temple of Doom, Indy finally jumps on a small plane to escape the man who’s been trying to kill him for the past hour. Just before he takes off, he calls back, “Nice try, Lao Che!” Then he slams the plane’s door, only to reveal the words “Lao Che Air Freight” on the side. Nice try, Indy.
The Last Crusade may be the most quotable of all. For example, Indy dresses as a flight attendant and then punches a Nazi out the window of the Hindenburg. When the rest of the well-to-do customers look alarmed, he improvises, remarking, “No ticket.” Suddenly the aircraft is aflutter with tickets waving in nervous hands. And finally, as Indy and his father escape from the Hindenburg on a biplane, Henry Jones, Sr., exclaims, “I didn’t know you know you could fly a plane!” None too reassuringly, Indy replies, “Fly? Yes. Land? No.” Happy trails, Drs. Jones.
WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?
Two weeks isn’t nearly enough time to spend on these fantastic films, but I’m afraid it will have to do. We’ve looked at a few ingredients that make this trilogy and enduring classic, but there are plenty of other aspects we didn’t even acknowledge. Feel free to comment your favorite part of the original Indiana Jones trilogy, and then go grab some popcorn and settle in for a movie marathon!
Check out the next post here!
1 https://www.nytimes.com/1989/05/21/movies/meanwhile-back-at-the-ranch.html
2 http://www.theraider.net/features/articles/hitchcock_01.php
3 https://www.businessinsider.com/indiana-jones-and-the-temple-of-doom-created-pg-13-rating-2014-4
The Fun of Indiana Jones 1-3: Heroism
What do you get when you combine James Bond, Alfred Hitchcock, quotable humor, and a brown fedora? Either a complete flop or a fantastic success, depending on who’s in charge. Fortunately, when George Lucas and Steven Spielberg got together, they combined these ingredients to concoct one of the best-known and most-loved film characters: Indiana Jones.
I grew up watching the original trilogy, and I’ve been in love with it ever since. But what is it about Indiana Jones that makes him so classic? Why has the Indy enthusiasm lasted for decades? While there are plenty of reasons (his biceps being two of them), I’ll narrow it down to the films’ heroism, horror, humor, and overall iconic nature. (I apologize for my lack of alliteration. I’ll award 10 points to Gryffindor if you can give me a good synonym for that last one.) Since that’s a whole lotta info, today I’ll simply answer the question, “What kind of hero is Indiana Jones?”
AN INTELLECTUAL HERO
When Raiders of the Lost Ark first begins, we see Indy carefully choosing his path through a South American jungle in search of a golden idol. He adeptly reads the clues, whips the double crosser, finds the cave, avoids the traps, and pockets the idol, only to end up running for his life from a rolling stone and a charging mob. So far, this is a classic action film. But the next thing we know, Doctor Jones is standing in front of a class at Marshall College teaching Archaeology.1 Wait, what? The guy’s a professor? I’m pretty sure my University teachers spent their spare time playing chess and petting their cats.
But this is more than just an interesting character detail; Indy’s education and employment lend some credibility to his archaeological capers. For one thing, if he’s earned his doctorate, he probably has the aptitude to learn another language. But this guy never does anything halfway. In the movies, he seems comfortable understanding and speaking several languages, but according to some geeky sources, Dr. Henry Jones, Jr., is actually fluent in 27 languages.2 And while that’s pretty impressive, I’m even more incredulous about the amount of time off he takes during the school year! Good thing he’s tight with the dean.
A (SELECTIVELY) PRINCIPLED HERO
His professorship also explains his motivation to chase down ancient trinkets even when it puts him in constant danger. He’s a real purist about the artifacts, too, insisting that they belong to a museum rather than any individual. Indy felt strongly about this even as a teen, choosing to face mercenaries, a lion, and a vat of snakes just to see the cross of Cortez safely preserved. I hope he got a Boy Scout badge for that.
Interestingly, all three movies center around the rediscovery of religious artifacts—the Ark of the Covenant, an Indian Sankara stone, and the Holy Grail. But his passion to recover these relics doesn’t mean he gives credence to their religious significance—at least not initially. In fact, we see very little character development in Indiana Jones throughout the films, but he does seem to re-learn the same lesson at the end of every movie: simple faith triumphs over selfish motives. Of course, he never seems to remember that lesson by the next film, but what can you expect? He’s an archaeologist, not a theologian.
A HARDCORE HERO
As you know, this professor isn’t just a bookworm; he’s a lean, mean, fighting machine. He’s equally adept at the bullwhip, pistol, and fist, able to fight his way out of (almost) any situation. His resilience is astounding—he bounces back from punches, falls, chases, and other injuries, ready to take on the next bad guy or kiss the next woman. But what I appreciate is the films’ lighthearted tone about his beatings. Rather than showing him as some kind of dauntless, tireless Terminator, the movies show him getting dusty, tired, and even grumpy.
In Raiders of the Lost Ark, Indy escapes a crypt only to become a punching bag for a big German aircraft mechanic. When Jones finally gets some respite on a ship with Marion, he’s too sore and cranky to enjoy her skimpy pajamas…at least initially. And in The Last Crusade, Indy is put through the ringer as he tries to rescue his father and Marcus Brody from a Nazi tank. When it’s finally over and he collapses on the ground, safe but exhausted, he is literally left in the dust as his dad says, “Let’s go then! Why are you sitting there resting when we’re so near the end?” To me, this approach feels more relatable than a bullet-riddled hero who never breaks a sweat.
AN IRRESISTIBLE HERO
Marion Ravenwood
And when it comes to romance, Indiana Jones is an irresistible hero. In Raiders of the Lost Ark, we seen Marion Ravenwood, Indy’s ex-girlfriend, falling for him all over again even though he’d left her high and dry years before. She’s tough and independent, but she can’t hold out against his arrogant attitude and gruff assertiveness. While they seem to get pretty chummy a couple of times, he’s still fairly neutral about her by the end of the film. She, however, is chasing him up and down a staircase and offering to buy him a drink. Must be that rugged charm.
Willie Scott
Willie Scott, the female lead in The Temple of Doom, is the polar opposite of Marion, and yet she succumbs to Indy’s wiles as well. She’s quite willing to let the good doctor experiment on her nocturnal activities, and she hardly protests when he lassos her into his embrace at the end. The more surprising fact, however, is that Indy seems attracted to her, too. Don’t get me wrong—she’s pretty with her blond hair and red sequin dress, but the woman is a prissy, ditzy, spoiled wimp. She spends half the movie screaming, for goodness sake. If I were Indy, I would have been tempted to let her drop just a few more feet into the lava pit, but that’s what makes him the hero and me the peanut gallery.
Elsa Schneider
After putting up with Willie Scott for a whole movie, even a Nazi is an improvement. Elsa Schneider is a smooth, slippery snake, and Henry Jones, Sr., was right to distrust her…even if he was tipped off by her talking in her sleep. While she’s as disloyal as they come, it’s apparent she has a soft spot for Dr. Jones. Well, for both Dr. Joneses, I’m afraid. (Gross, dad.) Indiana’s pure motives and chiseled jawline inspire affection in the duplicitous doctor, and she (indirectly) shrivels a guy into a mummy in order to help him save his father. She even harbors hope of living forever with Indy, but she ends up slipping into a chasm instead. Auf Weidersehen, Dr. Schneider.
A MEMORABLE HERO
So even though Indy is cavalier with a dash of chauvinism, he is still a heartthrob to all three leading ladies and to plenty of fans. Somehow Lucas and Spielberg believed that a James-Bond-Turned-Action-Figure-Professor hero could work, and I’m glad they did.
Sources:
1 https://indianajones.fandom.com/wiki/Marshall_College
2 https://www.filmbug.com/dictionary/indiana-jones.php
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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
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