PERFECTION [T, 1-13-26]

CHRIST IN WINTER: The Musings of An Old Man in the Winter of His Years—PERFECTION [T, 1-13-26]

 

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: This column is no longer “reflections on faith and life.” It’s reasonable that you might get something worthwhile for your own life from such “reflections.” That is no longer a reasonable assumption. Now this column is only the personal reminiscences of the author. If you get anything worthwhile, it is either by accident, or because you have a special ability to discern wheat in chaff.

 

 From my first memory on, all I really wanted was to be a good person. In my time and place, that translated into wanting to be a good Christian, which mostly meant to be a good follower of Jesus.

I didn’t feel much need for Christ.

I understood that Jesus and Christ were one and the same, that he/they were the disclosure of God. But I felt entirely comfortable with going directly to God. No need for an intercessor, even Christ.

I didn’t always know what God wanted of me, though, but I could look at Jesus and say, “Oh, that’s the God way. That’s the way to be the good person I want to be.”

Basically that meant always being respectful—of God and God’s world, especially other people, but all of God’s creation, including myself. You never intended to be mean or inflict pain. You were always kind.

Except when you weren’t. Then you asked for forgiveness and tried to do better.

John Wesley’s theory of “Christian perfection,” perfection in love, found a ready adherent in me. If you were always a good person, you’d be perfect.

Actually, I wanted to be more than perfect in love. I wanted to be perfect in everything. Still do. Perfection in everything has not worked out very well, though.

And certainly perfection “only” in love is a lot easier in belief than in practice. I often wanted to practice unkindness. I wanted to lash out in anger. Oh, I never wanted to hit or shoot or lynch anyone, but I wanted to be unkind with words. I wanted to say nasty things to people I thought deserved it. Often I did, but not where anyone but me could hear those words.

So, yes, I guess I was a hypocrite. But a fairly harmless one.

And, I didn’t “think more highly of myself than I ought to think.” I didn’t lie about who I was. I always admitted that I was a flawed and imperfect Christian, a rather poor follower and emulator of Jesus.

I saw Jesus as the embodiment, the incarnation, of God, even though I did not know those words early on, so I knew that to be friendly with God, I needed to follow the examples of Jesus.

I didn’t want to get in good with God to avoid hell or go to heaven. That was the standard reason when I was growing up. No, I just couldn’t figure any reason to be alive in this world without God. God was the alpha and the omega. Again, not words or concepts I knew early, but I knew that God was the only way to meaning, to a meaningful life.

For a long time I was able to confuse being a good person with being a good parson. I was pretty good at being a preacher, so thought that meant I was being pretty good at being a Christian. Old age, when I can no longer be a preacher at all, good or otherwise, has revealed a rather fatal flaw in that idea. You can be great at preaching about the light and still live in darkness.

I still want to be a good person. Now, though, I have to try walking the straight and narrow with no robe or stole or sermon notes.

Sixty-two years ago, I answered “Yes,” to the traditional Wesleyan ordination question, “Do you expect to be made perfect in love in this life?” It was an honest answer, but I really need to get busy.

John Robert McFarland

So far, I have been perfect in 2026. I haven't written 2025 even once!