Imperfections of Reality
By Anthony Casperson
4-6-24
“Real or fake?”
I sat in a doctor’s office, staring at the plant directly in front of me. One of those big leafy plants that are supposed to invoke a sense of liveliness and color into the pain and discomfort of the patients’ experience. Which is all the more hilarious when the plants are fake.
Boredom overcame me in that aptly-named waiting room. And the plant was literally a few feet ahead of me. So, I couldn’t help but find something to occupy my mind. And that question of its existence came to me.
Since I was in someone else’s property—and didn’t want to look weird—I wasn’t going to go over to the plant and feel its leaves or see if it smelled of plastic. Therefore, my data collection had to be from a distance.
It was then that a thin yellow-brown line on one of the leaves stood out. Oddly-angled, the line refused any of the naturally occurring curves of the leaf. No mass-manufactured item would have a pattern that included such an imperfection in it. That would circumvent any expression of liveliness mocked by its plastic.
My eyes caught more imperfections. A spot of brown at the edge of a leaf revealed a misunderstanding of how much water the plant needed. One leaf’s downward-facing tip didn’t end at a point. And a stalk had an awkward angle to it that would be considered a manufacturing error, if the plant was fake.
I almost nodded at my assessment of the plant’s biological nature. You can tell the real thing by the imperfections. Those words struck me, left with a consideration of their truthfulness. How it’s not just plants that can judged by this metric.
We humans often attempt to cover up our imperfections with various methods of fakery, but it’s only in our broken, marred, and scarred selves that the real person can be found. Perfect poses, flattering light, and a downward-facing angle might make amazing pictures which incite jealousy in others. But we all know that such curated pictures on social media aren’t reality.
And it’s in how we view those imperfections where we reveal our real selves. Our motivations, our biases, our character. A person whose experienced true hardship—with scars on full display—and learned to use those past traumas for good is a much better example than the prettiest person in the world who has removed themselves from any hint of pain and suffering.
Those who boast in their beauty or intelligence or power or vast wealth only come off as braggarts. Self-aggrandizing fakes who want the appearance of the real thing without having to go through the growing pains.
And so we often consider something that’s too perfect to be the fake. The imperfect likely the real thing.
While the Apostle was speaking of the much more important aspect of judging a false teacher from a real one, Paul’s words in 2 Cor. 11 stand in agreement with the core idea of this blog. You can tell the real thing by the imperfections.
Specifically, Paul wrote his letter to a people who were getting caught up in a “gospel” that went against the truth offered in Christ. While I’m not sure about the differences of this “gospel” from the true gospel, knowing the Corinthians’ propensity of desiring power, position, and the ability to do whatever they wanted without feeling any conviction from the Holy Spirit, I’d assume it was something in that realm.
And there was a group of people who taught this perversion of the truth, whom Paul refers to as “super-apostles” in verse 5. They used their incredible oratory skills and studious vocabulary to astound their congregants. Dazzling them into a dumbfounded acceptance of whatever they said. This acceptance would include people offering huge sums of money to the super-apostles so that these false teachers could sit back in comfort and be able to take the time to consider the “deep things” which were too far beyond the capabilities of their listeners.
These super-apostles boasted in their great wisdom and understanding. They were so great, everyone would want to have the perfect lives that they led.
But Paul reminds his audience that this cushy gospel of always getting everything you want isn’t the gospel he taught them. It’s not the gospel which freed them. And it certainly wasn’t the gospel of Jesus.
No, these false teachers were much more like Satan, disguising the deadliness of their words with the fakery of life and light and holiness. Their seeming perfection only proved their lack of true life.
Paul continues by reminding the Corinthians about the weakness in which he first preached to them. A preaching of the gospel that was free of charge, regardless of the fact that he had financial needs. The expression of Christ’s truth that wasn’t with vainglorious verbosity, but plainly taught so all could understand. Pleading cries for them to find salvation, which came from a heart that understood his own failings.
And it is in these weaknesses that the Apostle boasts. The 195 times he felt a multi-thronged whip lash on his back. The three occasions during which he was beaten numerous times with rods. The countless rocks and stones that pummeled him until he was thought dead and left to rot outside the city’s walls. The three shipwrecks he endured, one of which where he was adrift at sea for over an entire day. The frequent journeys he went on that would put Lord of the Rings characters to shame. The dangers wherever he went—from thieves and fellow Jews and Gentiles and false teachers just like these “super-apostles.” And this is not to mention the callused hands, baggy eyes, gaunt complexion, and shivering nights.
It’s in his scars that Paul boasts. All of those times when it was God that saw him through. Not his position in society. Not his great learning. Not his charisma. No, it was God who shined strength into Paul’s weakness.
The imperfections revealing the reality of life with God.
It’s in the imperfections—in our scars—that we see our real selves. The self that requires God’s strength because all we are is weak and needy. But the good news is that we serve a God who wants to showcase his glory through our weakness. If we let him.
So, let’s stop trying to make perfect pictures. Stop boasting in our own pitiful selves. And instead boast in our weaknesses. Allow the imperfections to shout forth the life we have because we have been given it by God.
You can tell the real thing by the imperfections.
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