“I’m supposed to make mistakes.” This was my assigned mantra when I first got a sponsor in Al Anon some 23 years ago. I know now that many children of alcoholic parents grow up believing that if they could just do everything “right” they wouldn’t be the victim of random rages and abuse at the hands of parents, then lovers and friends.

Perfectionism is not only the birthright of children of alcoholics however. We live in a competitive culture that praises winning and success above all moral values including honesty and fair play. If you want to be honest and play fair then perhaps being perfect is the only way to succeed.

All our faith traditions call us to humility and repentance. They tell us that “confession is good for the soul.” But even as we are encouraged to believe that acknowledging our own humanity will bring us closer to God, we find it difficult to allow our religious leaders to be as human as we are.

Oh well, they can’t help it. We can’t help it. I am so very human it is sometimes difficult for me to accept me. But if I can’t love and accept myself, I certainly won’t do a very good job of loving and accepting you. Nor will I allow God’s Spirit to guide or indwell me if I do not consider myself a worthy vessel.

All of this is a long-winded introduction to the importance and power of admitting my mistakes and asking for forgiveness. Ministers may not do this often and sometimes only when forced into the public eye. It took me several months to realize and own up to a hard mistake I had made in attempting to use my position of authority to push my congregation in a direction they were not yet wanting to go. I manipulated some, shared stories that were not mine to share and acted as if I was only considering what was best for the church when, in fact, my personal desires were thwarted. I was hurt. I was acting out.

Because my role in the congregation is more public than most my mistakes take on a life of their own. To make them right I cannot go to a private confessor and be done with it. So on Sunday during worship I found myself standing humbly before my congregation and telling all of those present that I realized what I had done wrong and how I had damaged my community of faith. I asked for forgiveness. Then I sent an email to those on Boards and Committees of the church who might have been most effected by my actions telling them the same.

It is better to make mistakes than not to try at all. Living in community and learning to respond with integrity to all the different people and experiences that come our way demands that we acknowledge our need to learn, our growing edge. God is not done with me yet.

If I lived in a monastery and practiced monastic silence most of the time, I can imagine that I would seem pretty holy. The challenges of living and loving in a dynamic community of faith is where “the rubber meets the road,” in terms of really learning to live out the law of love.

I wish I didn’t make such big mistakes, but perhaps I’m just too dense to acknowledge and change by virtue of the smaller ones.

I wish I were perfect, but how boring would that be?

Jesus said, “Be ye perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matthew 5:48) But the Greek word here that we translate as “perfect,” is better understood by the word “whole.” Be whole, as God is whole.

So I may have my shadow side. I may be complex and messy. But I’m working toward wholeness. That’s my goal and my assured destination.

The second coming of Christ will be manifest when we all come to realize that the Spirit of a loving God has been poured out on all flesh. We are the ones we have been waiting for. O My!