Beggars Who Give Alms

I am a perfectionist. However, there are times when this reality feels more like a curse than it does a blessing. Sometimes, no matter how much I strive, whatever I do never seems good enough - whether it be as a writer, a friend, a husband, or as a Christian. For example, rather than rest on my last day of vacation, I spent the better part of my afternoon in the Appalachians wrestling within myself trying to think of a way to begin this very article.

Indeed, I am a relentless perfectionist. This has enabled me over the years to compose several pieces of writing that I am rather pleased with; on the other hand, these pieces are not as regular as I’d prefer them to be. I often find myself agonizing with nauseating precision over minute details in my writing that no one, save God Himself, will ever notice. I mention these things not to boast, but as a statement of fact; I wish this were not the case. My life would be a lot easier if I could simply sit down, write effortlessly, and be thoroughly pleased with what I come up with on the first go.

By way of another example, I’ve been slowly rereading some of my old pieces over the course of the last few weeks. Most of these pieces are articles and blog posts that I’ve written over the years, many of which were on my original blog. Initially, my intention was to edit some of these articles and post them on this very blog. However, in the process of transferring these old articles and blog posts to a new home, I was struck by something rather unexpected: these pieces are not as good as I remembered them to be. Indeed, I fancy that I’ve become a better writer over the past few years, but what a crushing blow all the same - especially to me, wretched perfectionist that I am!

What was particularly humbling about this unexpected revelation - that is, the fact that my old writing had lost the ‘glimmer’ I once ascribed to it - was that I previously thought these pieces contained some of my best work. What if, I fearfully thought, I am not the writer I suspected myself to be? What if my current work will eventually fall by the wayside just as, in my mind, my old work has? If you were to ask me, my writing was progressing from good to great, not from bad to merely ‘better’. Upon realizing this, a moment of quiet desperation began to stifle my soul - though, only for a moment. For a moment was ample time for me to realize that I was being utterly ridiculous.

Indeed, within this desperate moment of mine we can find a useful microcosm - a pressing lesson about life itself. What a folly it is that we ascribe so very much of our worth and sense of self to our past achievements. Or, for that matter, to any of our achievements; whether they be past, present, or yet to come. Whether these achievements be as a spouse, parent, worker, student, or friend, there is always the temptation to lean on these acts more than we should. Achievements and milestones are good things to be sure, for they are blessings from above, but we should be careful to ensure that they do not constitute our identities. Let us, as Christ commanded, be as that wise man who “built his house on the rock” of the Lord Himself rather than like the fool who, though he knew better, yet trusted nonetheless in the shifting sands of this world for his security, worth, and identity.

By focusing with such aggressive ardor on our works, past or present, we will all become relentless perfectionists. Relentlessly ruthless perfectionists who, no matter our triumphs, will always sense a vacuum in even the very best of our deeds. Our past achievements will never be good enough, leaving us entangled in a vicious cycle of striving and strife that will gnaw steadily at our souls. Therein lies the rub with perfectionism of any kind, and how much more so with moral perfectionism - namely, legalism. Indeed, one of two paths lie before our feet: trust in Christ who offers us rest for our weary souls, or kick against the goads until our dying breath, like the Pharisees, only to become empty, rotting sepulchers in the end - whitewashed ones, but tombs all the same.

In my case, I have indeed become a better writer over the last few years - and what a joy that is. Does this mean that any writing I’ve done in the past is rubbish? By no means! It is simply a tangible indication of the reality that through hard work and God’s tender leading of my pen I have become a more skilled wordsmith. Just because my writing has gotten better, this does not mean that my old work has ‘gotten worse’. Clearly, this reality is true of all life, not just in writing. Could I have been a better husband in my first year of marriage? But of course. However, the sins, selfishness, and shortcomings of mine in my first year of marriage - in every husband's first year of marriage - were used by God to better me in my second year of marriage, just as my shortcomings as a fiancé prepared me to become a husband, and so on. Indeed, where would any of us be without our past failures and triumphs? For it is upon these, for better or worse, that our current work stands.

Furthermore, by dismissing the past, we can so easily lose sight of what God is doing in the present and lose hope entirely in what He has promised to do in the days to come. What a pitiful reality it would be if our best days lay behind us. While we are not promised rest and riches in this life, we can rest in the promise that there are far better things that lie ahead than any we leave behind: “For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Corinthians 4:17).

What a tragedy it would be if, upon revisiting some of my old pieces, I discovered that they were not only better than I remembered, but exceedingly better than even my current work. What a crushing discouragement it would be to discover that I had not become a better writer despite years of working away at it, but indeed retrograded into a far worse one.

And yet, by God’s grace, not only have I become a better writer, He has made me a better man as well. Perhaps that is why my old work seems so different to me now; I have changed, or rather been changed, and am no longer the man that I once was. My old writing is a reflection of a man from several years ago. Though I have changed along with my writing, it would be unwise to forget and forfeit entirely who I once was. For, in many ways, these old pieces of mine are in fact testaments of God’s faithfulness through the years. Just as our past achievements - or failures - serve as milestones along our journey, so too do they stand as sentinels of God’s faithfulness in and out of season.

And what are our works, fruits, and gifts but alms that we give back to Him, the Giver of all good gifts? Is the fruit of our labor not, as Augustine once said, the “gracious crowning of His own good gifts”? We are but stewards, He is the supplier. We are as beggars who, in crying out to the Lord for help and provision, render back to Him alms from the very abundance that we have so graciously received from Him. Indeed, what can we possibly give back to Him from whom all things flow - the God of Heaven and earth: “For from him and through him and to him are all things” (Romans 11:36).

So, what of my old writing? Well, the perfectionist in me is learning to love my past work - imperfections and all. Like Paul, I am striving ever upwards and onwards in my work; forgetting that which lies behind, but not forgetting the lessons learned. I am learning to give such alms of what I have. When I first began writing again all those years ago, God faithfully provided the necessary encouragement and inspiration along the way - from this perspective, who am I to belittle my past work? Is my writing today truly any different from back then? Perhaps; though, all of my work is but “Borrowed words from the One who gave the gift to me”, and I would do well to remember that more often. Indeed, let us all, whatever our post may be in this life, strive to be faithful stewards and render alms of what we’ve been given joyfully back unto Him - the Giver of all good gifts.