perfection

Walking the path of righteousness or at least not trespassing

For several years now, the county within which I live has been building a paved bike trail that will span the entire length of my town, from the beach to a pre-existing bike trail in the next town over. Once the trail is complete, my family and many others will have a safe way to travel and exercise by bike or by foot across over twenty miles of paved trails spanning multiple towns. I am quite excited for the project to finish so that we can take advantage of this amenity. 

Some parts of the trail have been completed for quite a while now, some parts are mostly finished, and some have yet to be started. Where the project is mostly finished, there are large spans of paved trail that are safe to walk on, at least as far as I can tell, but which are still closed off to the public. When I was out for a walk the other day, in spite of the sign that said, “Do Not Enter,” I walked one of these sections of the trail instead of walking on the side of the busy road. 

Admittedly, it was quite nice to have a safe place to walk and the trail allowed me to go farther than I would have if it were not there. I knew I wasn’t supposed to walk on it. I read the sign after all, but I really didn’t think much of it because it seemed safe and there was no one around to stop me. 

As I stepped over the mesh plastic barricade which has clearly been stepped or ridden over many times before, the thought occurred to me, “It’s not a big deal if I do this, but obviously it would be a problem if everyone did it. I’m not everyone though, so it’s okay.” The whole while walking on the trail, however, I had the feeling that someone was watching me and I started to hurry my way along so that I could get off before I was noticed by passersby. 

I made my way to the next cross street which has no trail or sidewalk and I walked hurriedly to the next intersection where there was a sidewalk. From there, I walked my normal route home, went inside, and went about my day. But the whole day, I had this nagging feeling in the back of my mind about whether I had done the right thing or whether or not I would do it again.

The next morning, my wife and I had the opportunity to walk together. There are several ways we can go when we walk, but I wanted to show her the new, albeit unfinished, trail that I had “discovered” the day before. As we approached the trail, I told my wife where we were going to go and she immediately bristled at the proposition. 

She said, “I’m not walking on there. It’s not finished yet. It’s not safe.”

“It’s perfectly safe,” I said, “I walked on it yesterday.” “Why would you do that?” she asked, “There’s clearly a sign that says, “Do Not Enter.” “Yeah, but it’s fine,” I insisted, “I’ve seen plenty of people walking and biking on it, and it’s safer than walking next to the road.” 

“Don’t be that kind of person,” she replied, “Be a good citizen. Set a good example for others. Just walk the way you normally walk and stay on the sidewalk. We can go that way when the trail is done.” 

For whatever reason, those words, “Be a good citizen. Set a good example for others,” really hit me hard. I never really thought about it from that perspective. I do my best to be a good person. I don’t intentionally lie, cheat, or steal. I try to be honest, I’m faithful to my wife, I go to church on Sundays, I repay my debts, I pay my taxes, and I own multiple businesses that serve the community. “Of course I’m a good citizen,” I thought to myself. 

But as I sat with her words for a while, I started to see her point. As a Christian, I am called to live by a higher standard. This means that I must not only follow the laws of the land within which I live, which includes not trespassing, but I must also live a righteous life for God and not for my selfish desires. Christ’s example is one of self denial for the sake of God and humanity, not of selfishly taking advantage of opportunities and breaking laws simply because no one appears to be watching. 

Jesus tells us, “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect (Matthew 5:48, NIV).” He doesn’t mean that we should be good only when other people are watching. Rather, we are to be good always because God is always watching. “The eyes of the Lord are everywhere, keeping watch on the wicked and the good (Proverbs 15:3).” No wonder I felt like someone was watching me while I was walking on the trail. God was watching me and my conscience was letting me know it. 

There is nothing we do that is outside of God’s sight. Whether it’s sneaking an extra cookie at night when we think no one else is awake, embellishing our timecard when our supervisor isn’t paying attention, or peaking at an attractive woman when we think no one will notice, God sees us. And he holds us Christians to a higher standard because he loves us and, through the Holy Spirit, he is teaching us to be perfect. 

Of course, we should be good citizens. My wife is not wrong about that. We must go beyond that and be good Christians. That means not trying to get away with petty infractions of law or morality simply because we can. It means being impeccable in word and deed, and when we fail, which we will, admitting our mistake and, to the best of our ability, making things right. 

God requires more from us because we are the standard bearers of his name. What we do is a reflection of his love, his mercy, and his grace, but also of his son, Jesus Christ. We are called to live as Jesus did (1 John 2:6), to sacrifice anything and everything that stands in the way of our relationship with him (Matt 19:21), and to give up our worldly desires for the sake of heavenly standards (Titus 2:11-13). And, we are called to walk the narrow path of righteousness, even if it is inconvenient or less attractive (Matt 7:13-14). 

So no matter how much I want to, no matter how tempting it is, I will no longer be walking on the unfinished trail until it’s open to the public. It may seem silly or like a little thing, I know it did to me, but the little things add up in the eyes of God and in our consciences. There are plenty of places by my house for me to walk without trespassing, and it is better to be inconvenienced by what is best than to have an easy life full of good enough. Good enough is not good enough for God. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Marriage is a constant reminder of how imperfect my love is

Marriage is a constant reminder of how imperfect my love is. It is anything but unconditional. I give love and take it away for so many reasons. It’s frustrating and painful, both for me and the people I claim to love. 

I was not always like this and I’ve gotten much better in recent years, but I have a long way to go. I don’t know at what point I started using my love as a psychological-emotional weapon, but I assume it was somewhere in my teenage years. Now, some thirty years later, it’s actually a great point of shame for me. 

For a long time, I honestly didn’t know how petty, spiteful, and cruel I could be. It took having someone who vowed to never leave me and who was unwilling to settle for any less than my best to point it out to me. There’s something really powerful about the commitment of marriage that has forced me to look at myself. 

When two people take a solemn oath that, for better worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, they will remain faithful and steadfast to one another, and they really mean it, it brings not only the best out in them, but also the worst. In a truly committed relationship, there is no hiding. Marriage forces you to look at yourself. 

I am fortunate enough to have married someone who feels as strongly about commitment as I do. When we took our vows, we meant it. That means we have to make it work. I think this is some small part of what God had in mind when he gave Adam and Eve to one another, and when he said that a married couple becomes “one flesh (Genesis 2:24.” The intimacy of oneness forces us to look at and get rid of the things that do not serve the relationship. 

So much of who I am and who I was before I met my wife is based on the survival mechanisms I developed over the years from being hurt, disappointed, betrayed, abandoned, and whatever else you can think of that would make a person cold, withdrawn, and selfish. Somehow, my wife saw through all of this baggage and was able to glean the deeper truth of who I am enough to want to spend the rest of her life with me. Some days it still baffles me. 

But like I said, I was not always like this. I remember being a kid and being cheerful, optimistic, and kind. While I didn’t really fit in anywhere (in middle school, I finally found a group of friends who also didn’t fit in and we were inseparable) and that confused me a great deal, I remained relatively enthusiastic and curious about life. Somewhere along the line, however, I suppose I was hurt one too many times by people that were supposed to or said they loved me, and I became cynical, guarded, and bitter. 

My entire adult life has largely been defined by the outgrowing of this negativity, or rather the returning to innocence, albeit in a more mature way, of my childhood. The lessons, however, have not come easily. I have ruined many relationships along the way and I have nearly ruined my marriage on several occasions. 

One of the main problems is that I tend to use my affection as a weapon. It’s not malicious way. It’s often not even intentional. But when I’m hurt, I withdraw and shut down, and when I do, I take my love with me. 

It doesn’t help that I’m extremely sensitive and, therefore, easily hurt, and that my wife is not the type of person to hold back her feelings or pull punches with her opinions. Well, maybe it does help because she has the unique ability to bring out the worst in me so that I change for the better. But the combination of her directness and my sensitivity creates a tension that leaves me nowhere to hide. Even if I tried hiding, she wouldn’t let me anyway. 

All of this makes it very difficult to deny my shortcomings. I have seen, over the years of trying to make our relationship work, how what were once my survival skills, the things that kept me safe in my past life, are actually tools of destruction in my marriage. When I withdraw and withhold my love from my wife, it hurts both of us because it hurts the relationship and we are not two, but one. 

This all struck me the other day when I was meditating on Jesus’s love for us. It occurred to me that, no matter what was done to Jesus, he never withdrew his love. He never shut down. He never stopped caring. He never tried to manipulate others by threatening them with emotional absence. 

Jesus was betrayed, beaten, crucified, mocked, and left to die alone on the cross, and yet he never stopped loving us. In fact, throughout all of this torture and torment, he prayed for us. And here I am, loved beyond measure and beyond understanding by a merciful, gracious God who sent his own son to die for my sinful thoughts, words, and deeds, a God who has never once withdrawn his love from me, not even for a second, and I have the arrogance to keep my love to myself when my feelings get hurt. 

It is humbling and baffling just how selfish and broken I really am. I am, however, willing to change. I pray for it daily. I want to have the kind of love for my wife, my family, and my fellows that Jesus has for me. I want to be as generous and forgiving as God has been and continues to be for me. 

It’s an impossible task, but trying, with God’s help, is better than the alternative. In fact, Jesus himself said that I must. I must “love as he has loved me (John 13:34)” and to “be perfect (Matthew 5:48)” What greater purpose is there than this anyway, to love and serve God and my fellows? 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.