Perfectly Imperfect, Fully Covered

Somewhere along the way, a lot of us were told the same thing: “You’re perfect just the way you are.” It sounds good. It feels good. It fits nicely on a coffee mug or a motivational poster. But let’s be real for a second… We’re not. Not even close.

We’re imperfect people—flawed, inconsistent, sometimes selfish, sometimes stubborn, sometimes spectacularly wrong. No amount of positive affirmations will rewrite that truth.

You know what, that’s not such bad news. That’s life in the Big Eight (Twelve, SEC, or whatever conference we are in this week!). Here’s a deeper truth most people skip over: we were designed this way. Not as a mistake. Not as an oversight; with intentionality. There is something powerful about recognizing your own imperfections. It humbles you. It grounds you. It keeps you from walking around like you’ve got it all figured out, because we don’t. None of us does.

That’s exactly where grace steps in. Grace doesn’t show up because you earned it. Grace shows up because you couldn’t. That’s what makes it a gift. Not a paycheck. Not a reward. A gift. The kind you didn’t deserve but received anyway.

And if you’ve ever really needed grace, like you really needed it, you understand how powerful that is. It changes how you see yourself. It changes how you see other people. You become a little less quick to judge, a little more willing to forgive, a little more aware that everyone around you is fighting battles you can’t see.

Grace softens the edges. It reminds you that being imperfect doesn’t disqualify you—it positions you to receive something greater. There’s a line from Matt Maher that hits this square on the nose: “Your grace is enough for me.”

Simple. Direct. No loopholes. Enough. Not barely enough. Not just scraping by. Enough.

If you stop and think about it, Grace has a cost. It always has. Just like the freedom we enjoy in this country wasn’t free. It was paid for with sacrifice, with courage, with blood (stretched out on the cross). Grace works the same way. It’s freely given to us, but it wasn’t free.

Realizing this, should do two things:
It should humble you.
It should wake you up.
When you realize what something truly costs, you stop taking it for granted. You stop treating it casually. You start living as it matters. So no, you’re not perfect. You never were. You never will be.

In hindsight, maybe the goal was never perfection in the first place. Maybe the goal was awareness. Acceptance and learning to live in the space where grace meets imperfection. That’s where growth happens. That’s where freedom lives. That’s where you finally understand: You don’t have to be perfect to be covered.

Comments

Inclusion - Giving Students What They Need to Succeed

I officially surrendered my man card the day I said, “I do,” back in 1987. Apparently, there are no returns. Yesterday I wept in my office. Not the dignified, single-tear kind of weeping. I’m talking full-on, reach-for-the-Kleenex, thank-God-the-door-is-closed weeping. We had just told a parent—whose child is on the spectrum—that we believe in her son, and we want him to stay at our school. Those words cost us something. They cost planning. They cost resources. They cost energy. But they didn’t cost us our mission. And here’s the irony: this conversation came on the heels of another one where I had to tell a “potential family” that we didn’t believe our school was the right fit for their children. Same day. Same office. Same principal. Two completely different outcomes. If you’ve ever wondered whether there’s an internal battle between a principal’s head and heart, let me assure you—it’s not theoretical. It’s daily. And sometimes it’s exhausting. Like most of my blogs, there’s a b...

On Humanity, Rumor, and the Discipline of Decency

Every so often, the world reminds us, sometimes gently, sometimes with a jolt, that God’s plan for us still runs through the old, unfashionable virtues: love, charity, humility, friendship. Not as slogans. As practices. Lately, the reminder hasn’t come through a clear, verified tragedy so much as through the way we react to rumor, outrage, and one another. In an age where headlines race ahead of facts and partisanship outpaces compassion, the simplest test of our humanity may be this: Do we refuse to cheer the suffering, real or rumored, of those we disagree with? I think about friendship across differences. Actor James Woods once said of director Rob Reiner that political differences never stood in the way of their love and respect for each other. Reiner fought for Woods when others wouldn’t. They worked together. They remained friends. That’s how it is in the real world, or at least how it should be. You don’t have to agree to stay human. I also think about families who live with add...

Reigniting the Fire: From Embers to Flame

There’s a moment in an interview with Michael Franti that’s stayed with me. He spoke about how a roaring fire, once reduced to embers, doesn’t need much to come alive again, just a gentle breath, a little attention, a whisper of wind. And suddenly, the flame returns. That image, embers waiting patiently for someone to believe in their potential, feels deeply personal. Franti once said, “I think of love as an action. Finding something that’s outside of yourself, to serve someone else’s soul, helping to ignite someone else’s spirit, to bring about ease of heart and joy, serenity in somebody else.” That quote reminds me that reigniting a fire, whether in us or in others, is about connection. It’s about showing up, listening, and offering warmth when someone feels cold inside. Not long ago, I found myself in a place I never expected to be. The fire inside me had dimmed. Life hadn’t knocked me down in one dramatic blow; it had chipped away, little by little. Leadership challen...

The Ex4mined L1fe

Search This Blog