Psalm 103:14 “For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust.”
This is one of the most comforting Scriptures I’ve read in a long time.
With my personality, it is all too easy to put too much pressure on myself and expect to perform to some kind of superhuman standard. When I make a mistake or when I grow tired and weak, I almost always end up kicking myself. I should be stronger. I should know better. I shouldn’t be suceptible to… to what? Usually, from an honest standpoint, I automatically resist being susceptible to basic human weakness.
The funny thing is that from a young age, I hated being called “perfect”. For a while, that was quite possibly the most aggravating thing someone could say to tease me. Granted, I always hated getting in trouble, and so took great pains to behave myself. But perfect? Not a chance. I knew better. I lived with me. I saw everything (good bad and ugly) that went through my head. I knew that there were plenty of broken, dark places in my life that still needed redeeming. I was terrified of being put on a pedestal that I couldn’t live up to.
So you would think that, with such an aversion to the term, “perfect,” I would have a little grace with myself when I goofed.
Yeah. Not so much.
God has been working on me a lot in that area since I’ve come to IHOP-KC. But I suspect it’s one of those onion-y kind of things, where it comes off layer by layer (and occasionally makes you cry…). Every now and then it will rear its head, and I get to confess it, repent of it, and try to remember that it’s all about God’s strength, not mine. Then everything is much rosier until another layer starts to peel off…
perfectionism pride is a subtle little monster. In fact, I didn’t fully realize I had fallen into it again until I read that verse in Psalms. “…He remembers that we are dust.”
It’s hard to explain the wave of relief I felt as I read. While I had been busy wondering what my deal was, why I felt certain things and why I couldn’t do certain things, God knew my frame and remembered that I am dust. He wasn’t getting impatient with me like I was getting impatient with me. He knew that I’m a work in progress, being renewed day by day, growing some, learning some, tripping up some. He knew that I’m still weak and immature in so many ways, but wanting and working to grow. He wasn’t surprised when I hit the wall — which is certainly more than I can say about myself.
Yet He still loved me. He still was kind and gentle with my heart. He wasn’t even annoyed. I was the only one who was peeved at my weakness.
It was time for me to readjust my perspective.
There is an eternity ahead of us with resurrected bodies and non-existant sin natures. There is an age to come where we will no longer feel the effects of the fall. One day we will be made like Jesus when we see Him as He is.
Until that day, take heart and enjoy the journey. He knows our frame.