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I've noticed that there are lots of things in my life that are almost perfect. Almost perfect. It wouldn't seem to take much for them to be perfect, but they fall just a little short.
My office is a great example. I have an office that doubles as a guest bedroom. I purchased a very small desk that fits into half the bedroom closet. My laptop sits on a whelled pull out piece that can slide back under the main desk so I can take my laptop and push the pull out in and close the sliding closet door if I desire which frees the other side for guests to hang clothes and for me to store a bit of stuff. I have shelves built in above the desk where I keep things I frequently use. I have a front load and front delivery printer that sits on the main desk. I have a phone and a goose neck lamp. I'm pretty proud of my design. It is almost perfect. The problem is that there is no room on the left side of the computer to place reference materials that I use when I'm doing work on sermon prep or researching things I write. I am always sort of juggling books and papers and trying to keep them open to the right page while they sit on my lap or teeter on the edge of the desk. It would be perfect if the closet were six inches wider. So I get frustrated with my almost perfect design. Almost perfect is more frustrating sometimes than hopelessly useless.
My kitchen is like that, too. I have a great kitchen. I have amazing tools with which to work. I have wonderful Cutco knives and a huge bamboo cutting board with small wooden legs that allow it to be the perfect height for a tall person who cuts lots of vegetables. Because the board doesn't sit flat on the counter I can also slide a fish and fowl plastic cutting board under the main board as well as a food scraper. That part is perfect. The problem is that the stove is on the opposite wall from the sink and the cutting board. So I am constantly transporting cut up vegetables and meat across my kitchen to the stove. It is the part of the layout that makes it an almost perfect kitchen instead of the perfect kitchen. Oh, and it has an electric stove. I have a gas heater and a gas clothes dryer, but I have an electric stove with no gas available on that wall. Almost perfect, but not quite perfect. Almost perfect is more frustrating sometimes than hopelessly useless.
Sometimes I like to think that I am getting better and better in my walk with God. I like to think that I'm doing away with sin and getting closer to perfection. Almost perfect, I think. I have a stove to move or a closet to widen to get things perfect, but for the most part I'm almost there. I think that until, of course, I closely examine my walk with God. Until I realize how far I fall short of his law. Until I come to grips with the reality that even my best designs and projects are full of pride and arrogance and a false belief that I am not hopelessly useless as a model of perfection in the kingdom of God. Lord, I need a savior. Who will rescue me from sometimes thinking I'm almost perfect?
In this Lenten season, I am becoming more and more aware of my sin.
And more aware of my desperate need for Jesus.
Rod | 
