Moving Ahead Imperfectly

There are about twenty things wrong with my car. I am still going to drive it tomor­row. Noth­ing that is wrong is par­tic­u­larly dan­ger­ous. I tend to drive it early in the morn­ings and even make long trips by leav­ing at 2:00 AM (dur­ing the sum­mer months). I also drive it a lit­tle slower than I used to. There is no sense in push­ing the enve­lope on the things that I know are wrong with it, and the things I have not yet dis­cov­ered that are a lit­tle too worn. It is not quite yet a bucket of bolts. With a lit­tle patience I will get some more cheap miles out of it. I still drive it with all of the pride of a new car.
My office is a mess, but I know what needs to be done next. This Sunday’s ser­mon will not be per­fect. I have never bal­anced a check­book in my life. Some­how it all moves for­ward — almost like it is sup­posed to be this way. The Dis­ci­ples of Jesus were never ready for what hap­pened next. They were con­stantly caught by sur­prise. They were good peo­ple, but far from per­fect. The church moved along any­way (and it still does). Church his­tory is filled with very imper­fect peo­ple. Many of them we now call saints and name hos­pi­tals after them.
I have found that there is an art to imper­fec­tion. It keeps us hum­ble. It keeps us reach­ing. I never promise that a ser­mon will be bril­liant, but that it will be mean­ing­ful. My Eng­lish is not per­fect, and I have some deliv­ery flaws that are annoy­ing. Peo­ple hear the Word any­way. Imper­fec­tion is not the sur­ren­der to a hap­haz­ard life, but it is a con­stant reminder of the gap between where we are and where we might be. Even astro­nauts make mis­takes. Ein­stein con­tra­dicted him­self on occa­sion. I am in good com­pany.
This arti­cle is not per­fect. It is not sup­posed to be. It is to be read, not hung in a museum. Being per­fected is more of an adven­ture than accom­plish­ing some­thing per­fectly. If I can accom­plish some­thing per­fectly, it is not a wor­thy goal. No, I pre­fer the impos­si­ble, and I enjoy every imper­fect step in its pursuit.