Free To Be Me

"At twenty years of age I'm still looking for a dream
A war's already waged for my destiny
But You've already won the battle
And You've got great plans for me
Though I can’t always see

‘Cause I got a couple dents in my fender
Got a couple rips in my jeans
Try to fit the pieces together
But perfection is my enemy
On my own I'm so clumsy
But on Your shoulders I can see
I'm free to be me"

I often wonder about my attraction to mathematics. Why, out of all the subjects that intrigue me (writing, literature, psychology, law...) do I find such an unparalleled satisfaction in concrete methods and answers? There are no subjective theorems or debatable calculations in calculus; a right answer is indefinitely right and a wrong answer is indefinitely wrong. In this sort of system, "perfection" becomes easily obtainable. The processes are methodical and memorization is the hand that continues to build blocks upon a simple foundation. It's a beautiful thing, this world of logic.

Well, here's the issue: I tend to treat my entire life like 8:30 AM Calculus. 

I want perfection. Oh...even typing the word makes my heart beat nervously. As I continue to desire that p word, it is becoming my standard. For every flaw in my life, there just must be a flaw in my system. If my hair starts to look frizzy, it means that I'm not waking up early enough to tame it. (No, it definitely could not be that I live 600 feet from the ocean.) If a friend doesn't text me back in the acceptable hour-or-so response period, I clearly did something to upset them. (They for sure don't have homework or a job or a family or other friends. Nope.) If I'm not getting straight A's, I'm spending too much time socializing. (Things should come just as easy as high school, right? I mean that's why everyone gets into college...) If God doesn't constantly seem present in moments of pain, then I'm clearly not a Christian or He just doesn't love me anymore or I have been confusing myself with the elect. (Being a stubborn and hard-of-listening human just isn't an option.)

This way of living is obsessive. It's compulsive. And it's completely draining.

Even typing this is risky...the risk of transparency and revealed imperfections seems great. But, as I'm beginning to realize, life if not an equation. Each situation does not always have a perfect solution. And love, folks, is something without any adequate explanation. A daily basis of tight rope walkers is what we are: performing a balancing act of relationships, commitments and our own individualism. With our muscles straining and our minds tensed, we are careful to show no outward signs of struggle as we put one foot in front of the other on that tender rope. One wrong move and we'd be over the edge in front of the entire crowd. That perfect front that we've been maintaining would finally collapse. The fear of messing up can become absolutely paralyzing.

But, what if, just for a second, we let go of our precautions and the struggle to appear put together and just walked? Casually and confidently through the balance of life, unhindered and unafraid of the consequences? What would happen if we let down our guards for a second and showed the world that we aren't quite so masterfully put together as we may seem? Perfection can become a comfortable and satisfying addiction. However, I believe that in the release of this quest is freedom and deliverance: recognizing that God is a great Savior in the midst of great sinners.