Better. I dislike that word.
For the longest time, I’ve been sold out to the idea of surrendering perfection. Since Christ is the only element of true perfection, the title of perfect is taken. I know I can be made perfect in Christ, but perfection is a portion of heavenly inheritance and not so much of earthly possibility. In laying down perfection, we are called to lay down all sorts of things: striving, distance, attainment, achievement, etc. But, in the journey to put down perfect, I’ve seen a new finish line appear and that’s the one called better. In this day and age it is so incredibly difficult to not get caught at some time or another in the swirl of power and position inherent to an achievement based society. And there are plenty of sources where this “truth” drips freely, but this truth is not truth. For as long as “better” exists in my vocabulary, I don’t need perfection because I simply need to rank above. What’s hard about this is that it doesn’t seem inherently bad. And, one might even believe that it aligns with scripture to be better. For when we come to know Christ, better is what is supposed to come, right? It’s why we’re willing to endure a bit of the hardship, partner in the struggle, and even give up some of the things we like… Because it makes us better.
Better seems to me to be the opposite of Christ. Better is the thing that makes my right things, my ultimate things. It makes my surrenders trophies by which I measure my success. Better is why it’s hard to be vulnerable past a certain point, better is why it’s hard to taste true community, and better makes us believe that our identity comes from “who” and not from Him. It is the bitter recognition that in spite of every pious act, that there is always one eye cautiously open wondering if somehow the risks we’ve taken or the acts of sacrifice we have brought forth were only to gain ground in our standing with God. Better is a dangerous road. And, if lucky, God will stop us on this road to better and detour us to a different path. The path of wilderness living – where survival skills seem paramount, but the longer we cling to these skills the harder the journey. I’ve tried using my tools here and they’re only good for temporary sustenance. For, if I desire to eat forever from the tree of life, I must know that my interest lies not in how quickly I come to Canaan, but rather how quickly I come to my face and recognize that identity does not come from better, it comes from a source. When that source is in Christ, we have recognized our goal… Which is not to say that we have reached it.
On our face, we’re still planted in the wilderness. But, here is where it is fair to be greedy. Here is where I feel comfort in saying that I will be ravenous in the consumption of the lessons, the ingestion of the spirit, and drinking in copious amounts of the water that brings life. It is an ache, it is a pause from what my human spirit so desires, and it watches the lives of others and wonders “Why me?” The wilderness does not make us any less human. No, but if we’re lucky it makes this human crave Christ all the more. Oh what a shame to endure a wilderness season only walk out of it and think “I’m tired.” Tiredness is how I got here. Sleepily allowing the world to take residence in my mind and allowing it to play its dirty tricks in making me want it. I know that I don’t, but some days I am just too lazy to fight it. The hike into the wilderness has not cut me off from my lifeline, but rather helped me to notice my reality. The reality of love and it is so very close to me. I’m not stranded here. I’m not helpless here. The wilderness is my offering with the promise of a full reward.
In 1 Chronicles 21:24 we come across David, having ordered a census without godly instruction, needing to construct an altar on which to lay burnt offerings unto the Lord. His sin has brought three days of the Lord’s plague upon the Israelites. The Lord had given him an option of three years of famine, three months of devastation by his foes, or three days of famine of the sword of the Lord. David chooses the third option because he most desires to be at the hand of the Lord than to be destined or controlled by anything else. As the plague is ravaging through his people, David cries out begging that the Lord cease the destruction of the Israelites because it was David’s sin that brought it on. We resume the story of this offering as a man, Ornan, has just told David that he may have the offering place for free. In his position, David could have accepted. But, David refuses, saying this, “I will not take for the Lord what belongs to you or offer burnt offerings that cost me nothing.”
The last part of David’s comment is what distances us from better. I cannot offer things that cost me nothing. As mentioned above, giving perfection away is not that hard. Giving better away, well that one is much more difficult. Offering up the fact that I do not have to be perfect is the essence of salvation. Offering the need to be better is the essence of mercy given through Christ’s humble death and the extension of grace in the midst of a world which tells me that better is the only stick I am measured by. I am not defined by my “do.” And in the wilderness, I am called to pull weeds rather than plant flags on the summit. It is most assuredly a detour, but worthy nevertheless. And here again, I find myself reflecting on the story of David again because he was given three options and he wisely chose the one that the Lord had his hand over. And this is how I view the wilderness, in choosing not to go, I expose myself to the relentless penetration of something other than what the Lord desires for my life. In being wilderness bound, I have chosen a road grooved by the floodwaters of tears and yet I know that on this path He keeps me. Crestfallen as I may feel some days, defeat is not here… Defeat is in choosing something different.
C.S Lewis once said, ““We’re not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be” And, in the midst of this time, I’d have to agree. The quest for perfection has ceased. The quest for better is slowly dying in the wilderness. And the search for God’s best has begun, painful as it might be. Let us walk courageously to and through the hard places knowing that these are the meadows, valleys, and forests through which He guides all the great people of our faith.
