“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” These words, first spoken by John Heywood in 1546 and considered the oldest idiom in the English language, may not be true; they do, however express my reality. Nothing I have gleaned from my seminary education or my more than twenty years of pastoral experience has prepared me for ministry during a pandemic. I am finding that I have been forced to ‘master’ a number of new skills and, in the process, I am also finding that I am quickly reaching my mental capacity for new processes and programs. It turns out that I might be an old dog and, while I can learn new tricks, that I might be having trouble performing.
This old dog/new trick paradox rubs raw against my desire to “give of my best to the master.” God deserves our very best, so I want our Sunday morning livestream (which until 4 weeks ago I had no frame of reference for achieving) to go out flawlessly. I want the YouTube videos (again, no frame of reference) to look professional. I want my Zoom meetings (I had no idea what zoom was a month ago) to feel like face-to-face meetings. None of it, honestly, is great: some of what we are producing is passable, at best, and some of it is not.
Maybe you are feeling the same way I am feeling. Maybe you are sensing that you are not doing anything well. Maybe there is someone reading this that is thinking that changing from PJs into sweats was your only accomplishment today (let me be the first to say, “GOOD FOR YOU!”). Allow me to offer you a word of encouragement: you are doing a great job at holding it all together during this time of unprecedented confusion.
But he gives more grace. Therefore it says, “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” James 4:6 (ESV)
Perhaps, in part, this is happening (in my life) so that I can learn humility. Shocking as it might sound, I am not great at everything. I am learning through this pandemic that ‘okay’ is okay. I am reminding myself the same thing I wrote about in August 2017, “If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly (G.K. Chesterton).” If there is one thing I have learned from the last month, it is that good news can be captured and shared via video clips of subpar quality. Those who are recording recovering patients leaving hospitals or grateful citizens banging pots out their windows to appreciate healthcare heroes could not care less about the pixelization or poor sound quality of their contribution toward our collective goodwill.
Give yourself a break. Give those around you a break. Practice humility. Accept limitations. Delight in sufficiency. Celebrate little victories. Immerse yourself in good news. Release the frustrations associated with perfection and embrace the joy attributable to the ordinary. Do your best and attempt the rest. Enjoy the grace of God that He gives to the humble. Keep on doing what you are able to do until we can do it altogether all together.
Recently, I have been watching a captivating show on Netflix called “Nail’d It!” According to the streaming service’s website, the program is described in this way: “Home bakers with a terrible track record take a crack at re-creating edible masterpieces for a $10,000 prize. It’s part reality contest, part hot mess.” Here is what happens during each 30-minute episode: three amateur home cooks, with limited time, resources and experience try to copy baked goods worthy of Pinterest created by professional bakers with unlimited time, resources and experience. The facsimiles never quite match the originals, but that is what makes the show so delightful. The home bakers work so hard and fail so often, incurring the good-natured ribbing of the diverse panel of judges. Yes, the end-products are woefully awful in comparison, but they are also delightfully ambitious.
This show appeals to be because it turns a particular cultural fascination on its head – capturing perfection through a post on social media. There are millions of selfies that go unposted because of some imperceptible flaw that the sole picture posted does not contain. There are hours devoted to staging furniture and furnishings so that uploaded photos of real estate are displayed in the best light. We rarely expose our sub-par efforts, let alone our failures, to the scrutiny of public opinion. Unless it is perfect, we are left to assume it is without value. Social media has created a cultural expectation of quality where ‘good’ is rarely good enough.
Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth. 2 Timothy 2:15
I think Paul would have a tough time adapting to our culture, replete with social media’s expectations of perfection. When he wrote to Timothy, he encourages him to give his best effort and, therefore, never feel needless shame. He did not say that Timothy should cover the façade of life’s messiness with a veneer of superficial perfection, pretending that he could master every aspect of life and ministry. Perhaps there is a blessing in knowing that we cannot do everything perfectly, but that we can always do our best. Life is not expected to look like a magazine photo-shoot. Life is often troubling to look at and imprecise, and that should be okay.
One of the more redemptive aspects of “Nail’d It!” is that the judges place a value on presentation, but they also value taste. If it doesn’t look pretty but is delicious, the judges may still declare that entry the winner. Mastering the fundamentals of baking counts for something. Mastering the fundamentals of life and living counts, too. This is true when it comes to relationships, service, ministry, faith, communication, compassion and about a million other things. There is something deeply biblical in that. Life does not always look pretty but treating the ingredients of life and living properly will, at worst, make it palatable. Handled properly, it may even be delicious.
The cake with the elevated teapot is not the norm. The photo of the beachside sunset is not typical. The brochure with all the smiling faces is probably not real. But the simple cake, the salt air and the full spectrum of human emotions are what life is composed of…and often times it is delicious.
I take an unhealthy delight in typographical errors on notices and signs. The dry cleaner on the corner offers a “pans hem” service for $8. There was a Dunkin Donuts© in Connecticut with a bathroom that was out of order, a handwritten note imploring patrons to “pleas bare with us”. There are websites and late-night talk show segments devoted to “Bad Signs”. One of these signs was for a children’s software company whose tagline was “So Fun, They Won’t Even Know Their Learning”. Despite the errors (in grammar, spelling or context), the information is still conveyed – that the cleaner offers tailoring for pants, the coffee shop begs for their customers’ patience and that they are retaining knowledge while enjoying the computer products.
Almost every blog posting I write has some typographical error. Sometimes it is grammatical, crafting sentences where I lack verbal agreement or confuse plurals with possessives. Sometimes it is spelling, such as when I use form for from or an for any (often words that slip through auto-correct but are misspellings for what I intend). Sometimes it is contextual, when I think effect is correct instead of affect or use complement for compliment. While I am not fond of disclosing my imperfect nature to the cyber-universe, I am blessed to have a few readers who are caring enough to make me aware of my mistakes (mind you, this is not an invitation for anyone and everyone to point out my many flaws).
This is one of the wonderful aspects of life in Christ and living for Christ – God doesn’t require our perfection, but our faithfulness.
But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 2 Corinthians 4:7
In the words of Scripture prior to this verse, Paul mentions our ministry, our knowledge of God, the gospel and the light – all of which could be the treasure he mentions. Then, in the above verse, he likens us to jars of clay (common earthen vessels) susceptible to cracks and chips and vulnerable to failure due to imperfections. One implication of Paul’s teaching is that our value is in our content and not our form. In other words, what we say is more valuable than how we say it and what we do is more valuable than how we do it.
My goal in ministry, sharing the knowledge of God and shining the light, is not eloquence and exactitude (as is evident with a blog post a few weeks ago containing more errors than a little league game) but expressing the truth of God to all those whom God blesses this earthen vessel to reach. So, I no longer wander about if I could of had an affect on the readers personnel growth if I could only write good (I know, at least 6 errors in that last sentence). I only hope that God can use this imperfect platform and performer to point to Him, the author and perfecter of our faith.
Even a misspelled sign can give direction if its message is true. Of this, I am living proof.