My Imperfect Jesus

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No one told me and how could they have known. I didn’t even know to ask. When the man on the stage began speaking about a changed life, a transformed life, and a forgiving God, how could I have known?

I couldn’t of. So, I did what any longing, seeking teenager would do. I said “yes.” I said yes to this Jesus that was being preached, expecting it to change my life, but unaware of how or even why.

What I expected though, if I’m being honest, was ease. I suppose on some level, I anticipated that a life spent serving Jesus would be a pain-free life, or at the very least, an easy life.

But, I didn’t know the truth of this and no one told me then. No adult sat me down and explained to me that the promise of a new life was not the promise of an easy life or a carefree life. No one told me that, actually, opening my heart to the things of God would stretch and pull my insides to the point of pain–that where I could once sit callously and indifferent, I would now weep over injustices, and sin, and the forgotten.

Then I found myself in college, battling against my past–slowly watching it consume me in what would eventually lead me to leave God behind. I would wake each morning and ask Jesus why it was so hard–this “being a Christian” thing. Why it felt so impossible, so unreachable. I would wait for His response.

Nothing.

His silence was wounding. His absence confirmation that I really was all alone…just as I had suspected.

I knew what scripture said. He would never leave me nor forsake me, but didn’t that also mean that what once haunted me would be eradicated? That what once hurt me would be undone? That what once owned me would be buried?

If Jesus was perfect, why wasn’t I?

And I read on and verses like “Be holy as I am holy,” mocked me.

I am imperfect. My life is still messy and flawed. And instead of knowing that somehow, in some way, this meant that Jesus was not done with me, I chose to believe the opposite.

I chose to believe that Jesus was imperfect. My imperfect Jesus, unable, or perhaps unwilling, to fix me. To help me. To free me.

It made sense. Obviously He is not all He claimed to be, otherwise, I’d certainly look different, too. He must not have what it takes or He must not be dishing it out these days. Or perhaps, worst if all, I am not worthy or worth it.

But, He continued to pursue me, never letting my lies and mistrust of Him keep me too far for too long. Until slowly, almost as slyly as it had begun, the Holy Spirit began to undo my self-pity and self-loathing. My worth was rebuilt, in only the supernatural and unexplained way that the Lord can rebuild.

And my imperfections where shone against Jesus–the real Jesus–for the first time. The contrast was so great, it should have been crippling, but instead He poured His grace into each and every crevice. Filled and overflowing, into each and every nook and cranny.

Like a salve, the grace of Christ, made what was once my excuse to doubt Him, now my hope for clinging on…

No longer was He my imperfect Jesus. He was my loving friend, committed to shaping and changing the imperfect me…to look more like the perfect Him.

Because when Christ said “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect,” it was not judgement. It was not condemnation. It was an invitation.

It was a perfect God telling us that we too can be holy. We too can be perfect, in Him, but more so because of Him.

Have you ever struggled with thinking Jesus was something or Someone He was not? Like me, did you ever think that the Christian life was the guarantee of the easy life?

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Nicole is a hopeful romantic, baby wrangler, writer on a mission, and Kingdom seeker. When she isn’t flirting with controversy or tackling the Truth on her blog Modern Reject, you can find her knee-deep in sword fights and princess rescue efforts. You can stalk her on Twitter, Facebook, or wherever. She’ll stalk you right back.