“No one will even read this. It’s terrible.”
“Someone will.” His voice was gentle, comforting. “Not every heart will need to hear these words, but even if it is just one… You will have glorified the King.”
Glorify the King. That’s what I wanted to do. Why else would I pour and weep over words on paper? Why else would I carve out worlds that the naked eye couldn’t see? Why else would the Creator give me imagination, or give me characters as if the were my heroes and friends?
“You’re words are not meant to pass away…” He picked up the wrinkled wad of paper from the dusty floor, smoothing it out on my desk. “God hasn’t given you a voice just so that you can ignore it because it hurts sometimes.”
“How can I be sure they’re right? What if the words are all wrong?” I asked, forcing my voice to be steady, but that question weighed in my heart like a stone.
“You can’t.” His blue eyes shown. “That’s the beauty of it all. There is not a truly perfect thing on this vast, stunning, complex world… There is no perfect piece of art or work that comes from a human’s hands. Only God is flawless. You’ll never be sure your words are perfect. Perfection does not equal good…” Indicating the paper before me, he smiled one of his warmest smiles. “To glorify God, strive to do so. Don’t strive for perfection.”
I stared at the blank piece of paper worn with wrinkles. “You have a lot of faith in me.”
“I’ve seen your face when you get a new idea, or see something that reminds you of one of your characters…” He crossed his arm against his chest. “You’ve got things to tell… and there will be people that need to hear you. Even if it’s just one.” A smirk. “Though I doubt it’s just one.”
Faith. I had faith in God’s Gift. And I’d glorify Him with it. Even if my words weren’t perfect.
A few years ago, I read a book that briefly touched the subject of how there were a tribe of Native Americans that always left one flaw in their work. Be it a beautiful woven art piece, etc, they always made one mistake. This was done to remind them that only Creator was capable of perfection.
While I’ve forgotten which tribe this was (though I’ll be trying to find the answer!), this has stuck with me for a long time. Why? Because all I ever see is people striving for perfection. We don’t want to give God the honor of being Perfect. We want to achieve perfection ourselves.
And we can’t. We truly can’t. No many how many art classes you take, you won’t be a perfect artist. No matter how many books you write, you won’t be a perfect author. No matter how many times you practice a kata, you won’t be perfect.
God doesn’t want perfection. He wants us to seek Him. Honor Him. We can do that by having a heart for Him, no matter what we do, or how good we’re good at the task. There is beauty in doing so!