On the shelves of my church office you’ll find a framed spelling test. It’s from when I was in second or third grade—you can tell by the handwriting and grade level of the words written out. If you look a little closer you’ll notice that the paper is quite wrinkled. As it turns out, this test had been crumpled up as I definitely had attempted to throw this test into the trash. At the top in that distinctive red pen you’ll find the grade that caused my younger self so much concern that I tried to get rid of it, a big fat B.
Yes, I was that child, so accustomed to A’s that I panicked and threw away a spelling test where I got just a little bit less than perfect. I don’t hold onto this test as an adult because of my shame. I keep this test because of what my parents did. They had the wisdom to look at their perfectionist child and flatten out this test and put it on the refrigerator.
Less you think this wasn’t genuine, these are the same parents who made sure to tell my younger sister when she was accepted into an Ivy League university that she didn’t have to go there if she didn’t want to.
I remember this coming especially from my mom. She always made sure to normalize being less than perfect. It would appear in her other wisdom, like being sure to remind us, not everyone is going to like you. This never felt like tough love, but like relief. It named what was already happening in my life. I didn’t always get A’s. Everyone didn’t want to be my friend. But to hear my parent affirm that as normal—what a gift.
I keep that spelling test in my church office because I so often need reminded that I don’t have to be perfect at everything. My job as a pastor is complex. Just this past Sunday I used the following skills: social media management, public speaking, pastoral counseling, nonprofit administration, music director, spiritual leader, hospitality coordinator, audio technician, and maybe even a few more. This is the nature of much of pastoral ministry and part of why I enjoy it. But it would be foolish to think that I am excelling at every single aspect of my job. Neither do I have to be.
This is different than willfully being negligent of my role. Instead, like that spelling test, sometimes I will try my best and fall a little short. Preachers might know this the best, as every sermon you preach isn’t going to be an A+ sermon. I’m here to remind you that is okay.
And to look up at that framed test and remind myself, too.
What I’m watching
I watch plenty of Minecraft YouTube videos, so it’s no surprise that YouTube recommended one they had created about the popular creator Technoblade. Technoblade, who was actually a 23 year old named Alex, died this summer of metastatic sarcoma. His death created a profound moment of grief for the millions and millions of people who followed his content. Yet it was difficult to understand what this grief was like, as children especially were left trying to explain to parents why there were sad about someone named Technoblade who they only ever knew as a pixelated pig character wearing a crown. Especially if you don’t know anything about Technoblade or YouTube culture I recommend you watch. It’s a story to follow if you want to understand a little more about internet culture, grief, and the power of online community.
Let’s read together!
A reminder to check out the book Range by David Epstein if you’d like to follow along for more conversation in the next month. Or, if you’d like, listen to the podcast summary version. But so far, I’ve loved the analysis of what it means to think broadly and creatively across areas of study. As someone often stretched in many ways it has been deeply encouraging to remember that value.
What life looks like
It’s good to be a cat by a window.