Stuck between Critical and Know-It-All

by Texas Stready

“Don’t settle for less than perfect,” is what they say. I’ve tried not to, but I’m not perfect and to settle that is the only way I remain dependent on God. I have tuned into what they say for way too long. Need to start jammin’ a new frequency.

At times, I realize I am too hard on myself. Before I’m able to slow down and be kind to me, my head starts to shout: You’re just using that as an excuse. If you were hard on yourself you’d be busy with the right thing.

             And so it is…

I like myself until I fall short, then I’m disappointed. I know I’m stronger than this, and so the tug of war begins. I push myself towards better performance sure I’ll get it perfect this time. When I fumble again I become angry. The next time I dig deeper, and with every intention aimed for success, I drop the ball once more. Back and forth the round continues until I’ve rowed my boat so far downstream, my life is a memory instead of a dream.

Before long, I’m beating my mind into submission. The lashes are severe, the failure more abrupt.

God is tolerant of my stubborn ways. He continues to give me opportunity to listen. Depend on Me, follow My lead, and always be willing to walk away. Grace frees me from sin yet again. What do I do? Climb in the boat once more, sure I can make the right choices

 How do the two beliefs exist with such conflict in the same skull?

On one hand, I’m super-critical of myself, and on the other, I know it all.  This is hard to understand and even harder to correct.

I must learn to do what it takes to trust God, because there’s no freedom in forfeit.

I have grace for everyone but me. That’s pride. Not forgiving me, means I think I’m some superior being. If God forgave me, how dare I not do the same? My lack of sufficiency shows me dependent on God. This is a good thing.

The answer is clear—ask God to take away my pride.

Maybe that seems okay for you to pray, but to me it feels like asking someone to crush me, remove any value I may possess, and leave me half dead with no personality. Sorry. Not my kind of request.

Sunday, during praise and worship, I ask the Holy Spirit if He wants to use me. He sends me to pray for a girl.  When I finish, I go back to my seat. I look over to where the girl is and the friend to the right of her is crying. I go back a second time, sure of my own good idea. I’m ready to solve the problem as if I were God. Well intended, P.R.I.D.E comes just ahead of my spiritual carpet burn.

I love this teenager and want to help. I can’t believe she’s so upset. I urge her to come with me to chat, hoping to be of assistance. She takes my hand but shakes her head no. Her eyes seem desperate. I give her a tug and say, “It’s gonna be okay.”

“It’s not. It’s not okay,” she says.

When she doesn’t stand with the next tug, a lady sitting nearby puts her hand where our hands join and says to me, “She doesn’t want to.”

Shame washes over me. I am sure the entire church is watching. I just know they’re angry because I didn’t respect how the teen felt and let go of her hand the first time she said no. Either that, or they question what I was thinking in the first place – how dare I try to help.

Instead of retuning to my purse and Bible, I slither to a nearby chair. Tears well and embarrassment creeps up my neck. What makes you think people need you to tell them anything?

After the service, I apologize to the victim and thank her defender. All the way home I torture myself for my inability to hear and respond to God perfectly.

Once more, depending on myself to fix things, I pacify my mind. Most of your life you haven’t even tried to hear God at all, so relax already. Nobody’s perfect. They’ll all live through it.

I opted out of real life because I let guilt and shame—that aren’t even mine to carry—master me. I refuse to do that any longer. Now I can see why imperfection is a necessity, even a gift.

Guess I’ll fit in just fine with the rest of you imperfect people.

God really likes me, and no matter where I run or how I fail, He stays hot on my trail. Not because He needs me, but because I need Him. What can I say? He loves me like that.

I am blessed with a ton of inadequacy, defeat, and decay.  If I was able to fix all that, then why would I turn to God? I’m desperate for God. If I don’t have Him I’m left with plain ole broken-down me, swearing I’ve got this round covered.

I’m not perfect and there’s no need to persecute myself for that. Jesus took that torture for me. I walk in the freedom of a costly grace and to always have to be right cheapens all Jesus did for me on Calvary.

I am constantly astonished by God. His love for me is so huge. At each opportunity He rushes over to the pride pit, wedges Himself between critical and know-it-all, then says – “Don’t forget, if you need me I’m right here.” Friendship doesn’t get any better than that.