People often say nobody is perfect. I’ve said that at least 100 times, but there are times when I’m not quite sure that it applies to me.
To be truthful, the only person I know who is close to perfect is The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage, wife Martha.
I’ll never forget when the front bumper of my truck broke. I was going to take it to the garage to have them fix it, but as I was looking at the bumper, Martha came out of the house and said, “What’s the problem with your truck?”
I looked at her and said, “The front bumper is broken and I’m going to have to take it into the garage to get fixed.”
“No,” she said, “let me look at it before you take it. Maybe it’s something I can fix.”
She looked at it for a moment and then said, “OK, I see what’s wrong and I think I can fix this. Let me go to my craft room and get something I think might work.”
She went into the house and, within a few moments, came out with several of those large paperclips. She went over to the bumper and began working on it, and within a few moments, she said, “OK, I think I fixed the bumper, you don’t have to spend any money taking it to the garage.”
That was about five years ago, and those paperclips are still holding my bumper to the truck. Who would’ve guessed?
With that in mind, I’ve concluded that she is as close to being perfect as anyone I know.
The only difference is she likes broccoli and I hate broccoli, and I like apple fritters, and she hates them. All those years, this has been the only problem we have.
The other night at supper, she brought my plate to the table, then went out and got hers, and came back. We sat in the room and enjoyed our meal while watching TV.
I saw something on my plate that puzzled me. It was something green. I didn’t pay much attention because everything else on the plate looked and smelled was very delicious.
However, I couldn’t help but look at that little green thing. It looked like a leaf of some sort, but it was so small.
As I looked closer, I sighed very deeply and said to myself, “Oh, no, it is not that!”
I looked at it, picked it up with my fork, and it was exactly what I thought it was. I called it to Martha’s attention and showed it to her, saying, “Can you explain this for me?”
She gasped, looked at the little green thing on my fork, and sighed very deeply, “Oh, no, it isn’t.” She looked at it a little more and said, “I’m so sorry, it’s broccoli.”
This is the one time that I can remember when she wasn’t perfect. Thinking along this line, I remembered a Bible verse about this.
“Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.”
— Matthew 5: 48
I can’t be perfect from the human standpoint, but I can achieve perfection in the spiritual realm. The pattern of my perfection isn’t anything in this world, but according to God’s aspiration for me.
Dr. Snyder is a former pastor who lives with the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage, wife Martha, in Ocala, Fla. His email is [email protected].
