What my perfect life looks like

I still remember this card I received from my classmate during farewell season of secondary school, where autograph books and thank you letters were exchanged before graduation. 

The card, handwritten in beautiful cursive, seemed more a rant than an appreciation note. It went on and on about how I was a teacher’s pet, excelled in everything I did, and was well-liked by everyone. That everything was in my favour and I never struggled with anything. It ended with “Ugh, you’re just so perfect.”

It was sardonic but I don’t think she meant any ill—that was just her personality. In person, she was cynical yet oddly warm.

But those words stuck with me in a way that would prove to be a poison years later.

As I grew out of my emo, self-pity teenage years and encountered God, I realised in increasing degrees how fortunate, blessed, and privileged I was. My family was financially stable, whole and loving—to many it would even be picture-perfect, and in a way it was as close as it could get. I never struggled through my education, and any ‘problems’ were usually surface and easily overcome. Even with my first job, I had a flexible work-from-home arrangement, shorter working hours, unlimited leave, and what seemed to be endless ease and favour. And I personally know brothers and sisters who have been through a lot in life, from heart-wrenching childhoods to current woes with family and work.

After becoming a leader and discipling a new sister-in-Christ, she told me she and the other girls would chat about their struggles and add that I wouldn’t understand because my life was perfect. I was placed in a realm above them and I began to reflect deeply on my lack of empathy. In another devotion session, she mentioned that God allowed hardships and struggles for those who are strong. Even though unspoken, I received the flip side of the message—my life was perfect and struggle-free because I was weak. I know that weakness in Christ is celebrated—Paul talked extensively about it. But somehow I felt cut by the blades of a sword fight I wasn’t a part of.

All this talk about my perfect life made me feel so entitled (and greedy) every time I came before God with personal requests and petitions. How could I ask for more when I already have everything? It made me hold back even though I still bared my heart to God about my desires. It made me feel like I didn't have the right to be tired, down, or upset, because do you know how many people wished they had your life?

My breakthrough began at a worship retreat, when some of these feelings surfaced, albeit only scratching the surface. God spoke to me with an encouraging word that I’m not last in line to receive His good gifts just because my life is so smooth and rosy.

My mom would always remind me that there is nothing wrong with having a blessed life whenever I expressed that I had an unbelievably good life. All I had to do was give thanks and glorify God. But it was still a thorn that pricked my heart each time I had it easy.

Years later during the last session of a youth getaway camp, as I watched my co-workers serving selflessly and tirelessly while I stood among the audience in worship (I still served, but only in preaching), a thought came: “I’m always getting the longer end of the stick.”

And God ran with this thought with the timely message on breaking ungodly thoughts regarding our identity and an exercise of writing down every belittling and false belief we have about ourselves then tearing up that list and throwing the scraps in the bin. I curled up in a chair and wept as I reflected and wrote down every poisonous thought God brought to mind.

“My life is unfair to others.”

That was it. 

That hidden guilt had finally broken through. 

I was guilty about my perfect life.

God countered this guilt with truth: I never obtained this “perfect” life through dishonest means. That was just how He had planned my life to be.

I tore up that poisonous belief, that spurious guilt.

Today, I thank God for each good thing that happens in my life. But sometimes I still can’t help but let out a little sigh, “You see, good life again” as if it’s a bad thing. And sometimes I feel like I’m the only one in the world with this ironic, #UNRELATABLE struggle—the words “struggle” and “perfect life” shouldn’t be co-existing, right?

I’m learning to live the life God gifted and planned for me without guilt.

I’m praying to be filled with His compassion for those whose lives are different from mine.

I’m trusting that He is supremely good to all, and the way He shows His goodness to me (up to this point) is a smooth life that echoes His amazing, undeserved, unmerited grace.

I find this...

• 0%#Relatable
• 0%#Unrelatable