As a pastor’s wife, I wish I was perfect. Don’t you? I wish I could say the right things at the right time. I wish I could do the right things too. I wish I could quote scripture with accurate attributions, to not be so sensitive to others’ remarks, to remember to grab my Bible while wrangling my kids out the door. And, by golly, I wish my hair didn’t frizz like a crazed poodle when its humid, which usually happens on Sunday morning, like clockwork.

To desire perfection, after all, does make perfect sense. Our culture puts tons of pressure on women to have it all together—physically, emotionally, vocationally, relationally. And church congregations add even more pressure for pastor’s wives. These pressures are like a moving target no one quite gets, and no one can quite reach. It can honestly leave us confused and overwhelmed at times. But I’ve got a secret to tell those of you who are recovering perfectionists like me. Being a “perfect” pastor’s wife is so overrated. God doesn’t expect perfection, after all. He doesn’t even want it.

God uses the imperfect. When I read the Bible, I’m astounded by how imperfect so many people are. Abraham, Jacob, David. Peter, Paul. Sarah, Rachel, Esther, Mary Magdalene, Martha. God used each and every one of these people in profound ways. He weaves their story into His greater love story because at its core, the Bible is not about perfection but about redemption. It’s about recovery, reconciliation, restoration, and salvation. That’s what God cares about and so should we.

Success and perfection are not synonyms. Another revelation the Bible shows is great success happens in spite of human imperfection. Success is not wholly dependent upon us; rather, it’s dependent upon God working through us (and sometimes in spite of us) to bring about His plans and His glory. Of course, God wants us to live with spiritual maturity and integrity by loving others as we would ourselves, but in no way is spiritual success synonymous with perfection—not in our churches, in our families, or even within ourselves.

“Grace Upon Grace”

When we strive for perfection, we inherently miss the all-encompassing power of grace—“grace upon grace.”  Grace, after all, is God’s favor freely given. Grace is God’s undeserved kindness poured out. It doesn’t come because of what we do, or whether we’ve earned it, or how well we fit into the traditional role of “pastor’s wife.” No, it comes in heaps from “[H]is fullness,” not ours. John 1:16-17 declares, “Indeed, we have all received grace upon grace from his fullness, for the law was given through Moses; grace and truth through Jesus Christ” (John 1:16-17, CSB).

I like to think God’s grace is like a rolling river on a hot, summer day. When we sit on the river bank, we can hear the river’s sound. We can even see its beauty. But only when we step in and feel the cool water running between our toes, lapping up around our ankles, flowing up to our knees, waist, all the way up to our shoulders, only then do we truly experience refreshment and rest for our souls.

When I was young, I had a dream. I was sitting cross-legged on the banks of a crisp, clean river making mud pies. I sculpted those mud pies. I stacked them. I prettied them up as best I could, desperately trying to make them into perfect creations. I completely exasperated myself, in fact. Yet the mud kept escaping. It kept slipping through my hands, running down my arms, dripping off my elbows. In that moment, I didn’t hear a voice. I didn’t see a person in my dream either, yet I felt God’s Spirit powerfully nudge me. Go to the river. I was hesitant. How could I stop? This sticky mud must cooperate. Go to the river. But God? Isn’t this what you want from me? To make this mud into something? Something perfect and beautiful? Go to the river. After the third time He spoke, to the river I went. I put my hands in first, then my arms. I watched as the mud began to melt, to slide off my skin and disappear in the river’s strong current. Eventually, I got my whole self in the river clear up to my chest, leaving nothing but clear skin and a clearer mind. And I felt free. So free. Maybe for the first time ever. It was just a dream, but if that river was grace, I want to live my whole life in it. I want to live free. And I want you to live your whole life there too, especially your ministry life.

So, dear pastor’s wife, whatever pressures you feel to be perfect, whatever subjective version you feel others might have of you and expect from you, go get in the river of grace. Trying to be that “perfect” version of you to make others happy, after all, is so overrated and as useless as making mud pies. Instead, let’s wade into the cool, thirst-quenching grace-streams of God.