By Bo Sanchez

Perfect

There was a man who was looking for a perfect woman. So he searched for her far and wide, someone who was intelligence, beautiful, and charming..., (Note: This is not my personal story, no matter the man similarities, okay?) And after many years of exploring and waiting, he finally found her. So he courted her to ask for her hand in marriage. But sadly, she rejected him. (Sob) In his misery, he realized why; she was searching for the perfect man.

Let me tell you another story. I remember a friend of mine who told a priest one day, “Father, I have finally found the prefect Catholic community to join! They are such wonderful people. I’ll leave my old prayer group and join them!”

The priest replied, “Oh please, don’t join that group!” “Why not?” my friend asked, baffled. “Because then,” the priest smiled, “that community won’t be perfect anymore.”

Oh, why are we like this? We want perfect relationships, perfect prayer groups, perfect families, perfect jobs, perfect leaders, perfect spouses, perfect parents – we insist on it! We demand it! But for all that to happen, everyone has to be perfect.

Including us!

I remember passing by a huge display of cars. People came with their old cars, wondering  if they could exchange them with newer ones.

I began to think: I there was a store specialized in “trade-in” of spouses, prayer group leaders, parents, bosses, officemates, parish priests, friends, etc.—I bet that business would beat Shoemart in sales. But there is one place where the only thing we can “trade-in” is ourselves. You can “trade- in” your heart of stone for a heart of flesh (see Ezekiel 36:26).

I have discovered something terrible about myself. When I persistently see the wrong in others, I am shocked that many times it is because I subconsciously can’t stand the wrong that myself do. I hide my sins behind the sins of others. Somehow, it is easier for me to pull down others than for me to rise from my weaknesses.

Who is the loving person?

The one who sees imperfection in others and prays.
“Change me.”

Thank you, KERYGMA.