Here is an email that I sent to one of my students who asked for a brief extension on an assignment, due to her migraines. I mentioned to her that I used to suffer for them as well. She asked if I still had them. Here is my reply. (I left out her name to be careful not to violate her confidentiality.)
Dear __________,
Yes, the migraines do not afflict me now, thank you. In fact, I have very few headaches of any kind these days (even though I have a very slight one right now).
I am sorry for all your health concerns, and I realize that there are many things that can cause migraines. Even though I highly value medical professionals (my wife is a nurse), I am not sure that even the medical experts understand migraines fully.
That headache that I had for eight days was the last really severe one I’ve had. I will tell you a true story, except that I will clean it up a little, leaving out the crucial word. You can fill in the blank if you like.
When I was having this l o n g eight-day headache, I was living on Tylenol, which helped a little. Sound went through my head like a spike. My wife and kids, even if they talked in a normal tone of voice, were yelling. I could hardly keep my food down.
I was scheduled to go on a retreat to a Trappist monastery in Kentucky with a friend who was a Catholic priest, but I thought of canceling it. My wife said, “Oh, why don’t you go? It might do you good.”
When my friend arrived, he visited with Sharon for a few minutes and then we headed out for our four-day spiritual retreat. Before we had gone very far, Jerome said to me, “You’re not feeling well, are you, Daryl?”
“Oh,” I said, “I’ve had this headache for eight days, and nothing seems to help. I almost canceled on you, but Sharon said it might be a good idea for me to go.”
“Daryl,” my friend said, “what do you expect of yourself?”
I wasn’t really prepared for that question, but I thought for a moment and said, “I just want to be a good man, and I’m not.”
My friend replied, “No, you want to be perfect.”
“No, Jerome, I just want to be a good man, and I’m not.”
And then, my friend said something which not only pretty much chased the migraines away, but which has transformed my life. He said, “Sometimes I think we need an #$%?! theology. We’re all a bunch of #$%?!s, and God loves us anyway.”
My friend almost never used such language, so I was rather shocked. I also thought that it was very funny. I laughed and I cried, and then I laughed and cried some more. Within ten minutes, the headache was gone. They have never come back with such ferocity again.
___________, I don’t question that there are weighty medical issues that are causing (or at least exacerbating) your migraines. However, I wonder: Are you a perfectionist?
I believe in miracles, and I also believe that the love of God is the greatest miracle of all. Those of us who are Christ-followers give lip-service to the idea that God loves us just as we are. But we need to let that love for us—just as we are—to permeate every cell in our body. We are perfectly lovable, even in our imperfections.
By the way, now that I’ve told you this true story, I’ve noticed that my head isn’t hurting. Of course, the cup of coffee may have helped a little too.
Warm Regards and Prayers,
Daryl
“Why to you speak so negatively about yourself?” This was a question asked me this morning by Bill, my walking partner at a local park.
“I don’t know, Bill. It’s a question my wife has been asking for the past fifty years. In fact, she probably asked it when we were dating.”
“And she still married you!” said Bill.
“Yes, she did,” I responded.
Why do I regard myself so negatively? There are probably a lot of reasons. Some of my reasons might even be reasonable. Some, not so much.
For one thing, I’ve known people who were apparently totally convinced that everything they did was just perfect. I don’t like those people. Why would I want to be like people that I don’t even like? Perhaps I value humility.
But that is about the only somewhat sensible reason. The others are darker, I’m afraid. One of those unwise “whys” is that I don’t want to raise people’s expectations too much. I am a people pleaser, and the lower I can set the bar, the less likely I am to displease.
Sometimes, I’m trying not to set the bar too high for my own self. I’m a perfectionist. There was a book years ago entitled In Search of Excellence. If I wrote that sort of book, I would entitle it In Search of Perfection. The problem with setting the bar lower for myself is that I still, in my heart of hearts, want to do everything perfect—the first time and every time.
There are probably many more reasons, excuses, and bad attitudes that undergird my self-negativity, but this is enough truth for one post. Whatever the whys, the question I need to ask myself is this: How can I get out of this echo chamber that does not really help me to become a better person?
My problem is that I know the answer, but I keep forgetting it. I believe that God loves me just as I am. Well, I believe it at the theoretical level. But do I believe it down in the trenches of individual good and bad choices, in my chronic struggles, in the dailiness of life?
I need to become a more believing believer!
I had a look at one of my favorite commentators on the book of Proverbs, Christine Roy Yoder, who wrote the following helpful comments:
Whereas mortals have the capacity and responsibility to plan their “way” . . . , God is proximate—God approves or redirects each step (the conjunction may be translated as “and” or “but). The proverb may be interpreted as a comforting reminder of God’s nearness and sovereignty, a matter-of-fact acknowledgement of human limitations, or, more cynically, as a sigh of resignation (cf. 20:24; Jer 10:23).[1]
So, how am I going to take this verse as a guide to the new year? A sigh of resignation may be appropriate at times, but I think it would be better for me to take this proverb as a reminder of God’s nearness and sovereignty and as an acknowledgement of my limitations.
If I acknowledge my limitations, that will help me not to have to be so perfect all the time. Frankly, my progress is impeded much more by my desire for perfection, than by my obvious imperfections. It has been said that “the good is the enemy of the best.” Yes, I suppose that is true. However, for me at least, there is another, even more important truth: The perfect that I can’t achieve is the enemy of the good that I can achieve. If I accept my limitations, that does not take away my drive to be better. Quite the contrary! It is accepting my limitations that empowers me to do well.
And, of course, being reminded of God’s nearness and sovereignty helps to counter my tendency to worry and want to control. There is an old story that goes something like this: “Good morning! This is God. I will not need your help today. So relax and have a nice day!”
Might work! And what
works for one day probably would work for the entire year of 2020 as well.
[1] Christine Roy Yoder, Proverbs, Abingdon Old Testament Commentaries (Nashville: Abingdon, 2009), 184.
I’ve struggled with perfectionism all my life. And I’ve always known that I am far from perfect. So, because of my (perceived) honesty, I’ve always thought that I at least had a shot at the little known (and less esteemed) virtue that goes by the name “humility.”
Of course, thinking that you are perfect is pride. But it struck me this morning—in a blinding flash of the obvious—that even wanting to be perfect is pride. And pride, according to the Bible, is not simply recognizing that we have accomplished something good. Pride is pretending that our good is a whole lot better than it is. As such, pride is evil. So wanting to be perfect is not a workable idea.
Furthermore, at least in my case, want-to-be perfection is one component of my addictive personality. Desiring a perfection that can never be, creates tremendous soul dissonance. I cannot tolerate that for long, so I create an escape hatch for my perfectionism. What would feel good to me? What would kill the pain, or at least deaden it?
Voila! Addiction! An escape from reality that proves to be even worse than the reality itself.
What is the antidote to this unholy trinity of perfectionism, pride, and addiction? Perhaps facing the reality of my never-going-to-be-enough-ness might help. At least, I’m never going to be enough if “enough” means being perfect.
I was listening to Psalm 119 on the You Version app this morning. The psalmist praises God and his Torah for 175 verses. There are words of mourning, too, and words that encourage himself and his hearers to follow God’s instruction.
But then comes the last verse, verse 176:
“I have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek your servant,
for I do not forget your commandments.”
(Psalm 119:176 The Holy Bible, English Standard Version, https://accordance.bible/link/read/ESVS#Psa._119:176.)
Sometimes, that is the best I can do. I’ve wandered away. Come and seek me! I haven’t entirely forgotten your commandments.
Have you ever felt—at the same time—great joy and great fear? If so, you will understand the following e mail that I just sent to my twelve-step sponsor. It consists of a report (“No violations,” in this case) and my affirmation for the day (in bold print).
“Dear Bob,
No violations.
Today, by God’s grace and with God’s help, I am consistency in doing triage and doing what I can do, rather than the perfect stuff that I wish I could do.
The affirmation requires a bit of unpacking, I think.
This past Friday, I got an e mail from the dean at Cincinnati Christian, asking me if I would be interested in teaching some classes. They involved helping students (master level and perhaps also undergrad) to understand a bit about Hebrew and Greek by means of software. Of course, I was tremendously thrilled with this, and said of course.
I met with the dean yesterday, and while I am still thrilled, there are some problems, none of which are unsolvable. However, in the interest of getting current (as well as in the interest of unpacking the affirmation), I will list them. Then, I will solve them as best I can, one at a time.
This is the sort of class that I have dreamed about teaching. I can do this, and do it well. However, I need to be consistency—not just consistent, but consistency!
However, consistency is not perfection, and I need to do a good job of triage on what I can do in the length of time I have to do it, with my current understanding of the Bible and technology, and with the students I have.
Perhaps the fifth thing that I listed above is the most important: I’m scared. I plan to let fear drive me in a good direction and at an appropriate pace, but only God is capable of leading me to be a really good instructor. That is because God Himself is the most “teacherly” of teachers.”
(You might also want to read another post I wrote, “DTEB, “IN OVER MY HEAD”. It would appear that I feel overwhelmed quite a bit of the time!)
Monday, April 2, 2018
I am not so much trying to write a decent scholarly paper on Ruth and Mary, as I am trying to write a decent version of Daryl.
But I have writer’s block. And the block is also named Daryl. I never believe that I’ve read enough, that I’ve thought enough, that I know enough (that I am enough) to write something worthwhile. This was true for the first paper I ever wrote in high school. It was true for all my college papers. It was true for my Ph.D. dissertation. It is still true.
Am I really struggling to write and be something “worthwhile?” Or do I mean “perfect?”
So, as I listen to a song on You Tube, I wrestle with my own self-expectations. (I love Terry Wollman’s song “Survive”!)
Of course if you wrestle with yourself, you are bound to lose. Perhaps surviving this wrestling match is the name of the game. Or, better, perhaps the name of the game is surrender to God?
“The enemy of the best is the good.” (Jerry Rice and/or Stephen Covey?)
“The enemy of the best and the good is perfectionism.” (Down To Earth Believer)
I had a good day yesterday. I went to a twelve-step meeting, and then hit all three of “my” libraries—CCU, HUC, and the Athenaeum Library at St. Mary’s. Lots of good bibliographic material on Paul’s use of Scripture, Habakkuk, and Romans 1:17! In fact, too much material!
When I was in high school and just beginning to do (more or less) academic papers, I would get several books on whatever topic I was working on, but it was never enough. I would read the books—or at least parts of them. Then I (and my long-suffering Mom) would be up all night putting the paper together the night before it was due. How she put up with me is more than I will ever know.
Research is good. Checking to see what others have said on a given topic is important. However, in my case, this necessary research is out of control, like a resistant mold.
And where does this lust for more resources come from? It comes from my feeling that I really have nothing worthwhile to contribute to the discussion. But, of course, I can point you in the direction of some worthwhile contributions.
So, what is the alternative? To do no research? To just wing it, and say what I think I ought to say?
Perhaps not. Perhaps the right path is the path that threads the needle between two deep ravines. On the one hand, there is overconfidence in my own contributions to the knowledge of God’s Word. In order to avoid falling into this ravine, I do need to do research. My contributions, in order to be good contributions, need to be at least somewhat aware of the contributions of others.
However, the ravine I’m more likely to fall into is the “I-haven’t-read-all-the-relevant-materials-so-how-can-I-possibly-make-a-contribution” ravine. If I am to avoid falling into this error, I need to be humble enough to admit that I will never know “enough.” (For me, “enough” means everything.)
Ironically, humility is the antidote to both of these errors, because (ironically) both of these deep ravines are a result of pride. If I think that I can make a worthwhile contribution without consulting others, that is a complacent form of pride. However, complacent pride is still pride.
And if I think that I have nothing of my own to say, that is a form of false humility. And false humility is just pride that disguises itself in rags of its own making.
So, today, by the grace of God, I will read some of the contributions of others to the topic of my scholarly paper. But I will also write down what I think. I will let humility keep me on the path that I need to travel today.
What about you? You may not be a scholar. That is good! If we were all scholars, we would all starve to death. Those of us who are scholars have our own contributions to make. They are neither more nor less important than the contributions of others. But, in what ways can you value the contributions of others, while at the same time valuing and making your own contributions? I dare you to be humble enough to walk that path!
I double-dog dare you!!
“GRACE AND DISCIPLINE”
Most mornings, I begin my day with an e mail report or a phone call to my 12-step sponsor. He has encouraged me to include a personal affirmation, and I’ve been doing that most days for some time now.
Here is our e mail exchange this morning.
“Dear Sponsor,
No violations.
AFFIRMATION: Today, by God’s grace, I will not be timid, fighting off my back foot. I will be aggressive when it comes to living a good, holy, loving life.
I hope that you have a wonderful day.
Me”
My sponsor replied to my report and affirmation as follows:
“I hope ‘fighting’ is minimal and enjoyment maximum.”
I replied to his reply as follows:
“Dear Sponsor,
The battle to live an enjoyable life is mostly (for me, at least) a battle to live a disciplined and graced life. When I live as a person who knows that he has received huge grace from God and many people, and when I live a disciplined life, joy is a natural fruit of that way of living.
Me”
I’ve noticed that people who live a disciplined life are not necessarily happy people. They often are like one definition of perfectionists: “Perfectionists are people who take great pains, and give them to others.” Some people turn self-discipline into rigor—or even, into rigor mortis!
I’ve also noticed that people who are very well aware of grace are not always happy people. If they lack discipline, they always have at least a vague awareness that they are not living up to grace. They have a sneaking feeling that they are somehow betraying the grace they have been given. This is because that is what they are doing.
I have been (and am still, sometimes) both kinds of people. I have abused both grace and discipline.
Nowadays, I’m trying to recognize them as twin companions on my journey. They are both important. No, that’s not right. They are both essential!
In a little-known passage in a not-generally-popular book of the New Testament, the Apostle Paul points out in a wonderful way how grace and self-discipline go together. Apparently, Grace runs a school of self-discipline. I close with these verses from Titus 2:11-14:
“11 For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all men,
12 instructing us to deny ungodliness and worldly desires and to live sensibly, righteously and godly in the present age,
13 looking for the blessed hope and the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Christ Jesus,
14 who gave Himself for us to redeem us from every lawless deed, and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession, zealous for good deeds.”
DTEB
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