If I were so inclined, I could easily make a checklist of my physical and mental flaws. I’m incredibly nearsighted – not in the “let’s not think about tomorrow” way, but the “I can’t recognize objects without my glasses” way. I’m also not the most empathic person in the world; I struggle to make sense of emotions, and I’m not the best at those quizzes where you need to tell what emotion the person in the photo is displaying. And I started going bald around college and completed the process in my early 30s.
Yet, when I look at my own flaws, I realize how blessed I am. Without my glasses, I can work on the tiniest of details with incredible precision. I’m incredibly good at threading needles, and if you ever need someone to count the dots of a laser printout, I’m your man.
My balding pate has meant that I had to discard the vanity of a 20-year-old and come to grips with the fact that I couldn’t get by on my looks. I’d need to actually develop a personality and maintain a pleasant attitude.
My struggles with natural empathy have encouraged me to put considerable effort into communication and active listening. As a result, I’m very good at understanding what people are feeling and how to express that, despite (or because of) my own lack of natural ability. I’ve used these skills as both a Stephen Minister and – with my wife – as a discussion leader and presenter on the topic of communication at the Pre-Cana wedding preparation retreats for engaged couples.
I was thinking about my own flaws and limitations – some of which I’ve had since I was born – as I reflected on today’s daily readings, which all have a theme of birth and how God has created us with a place in His divine plan.
The gospel and reading from the Acts of the Apostles celebrate the birth of John the Baptist, who was instrumental in spreading the word that the Sacrament of Baptism could free us from the shackles of original sin into which we were all born.
The reading from Isaiah is one of the Songs of the Suffering Servant, where the speaker extols how he will help renew Israel: The LORD called me from birth, from my mother’s womb he gave me my name. He made of me a sharp-edged sword and concealed me in the shadow of his arm. He made me a polished arrow, in his quiver he hid me. You are my servant, he said to me, Israel, through whom I show my glory.
And today’s Psalm encapsulates the joys of our existence with its response: I praise you for I am wonderfully made.
Truly you have formed my inmost being;
you knit me in my mother’s womb.
I give you thanks that I am fearfully, wonderfully made;
wonderful are your works.
Think about that: “I am wonderfully made.” Should only those chosen by God view themselves as wonderfully made? Do only John the Baptist or the speaker in Isaiah have claim to the notion that they are fearfully, wonderfully made? Or do we all have a right to that?
Speaking for myself, yes, I am wonderfully made . . . and I am wonderfully made not in spite of my flaws, but because of them. Many of my flaws have been instrumental in my happiness, my success, my ability to help others.
Some of what we call “flaws” may actually be essential God-knitted elements to help us love and serve the Lord, to remind us of our own humility, to give something for others to respond to. Like John the Baptist, like the Isaiah poet, like the saints . . . we have all had our inmost beings formed by the Lord and been knit in our mothers’ wombs. Give thanks to God: You are fearfully, wonderfully made!
