The Ministry of Imperfection

Megan Cottam comes to value the importance of struggling in front of her children.

“Mommy, I’m not going to be a saint.”

It was the middle of an ordinary dinner conversation when this interjection arrived. It was not a defiant remark, nor one of deflation, but simply a statement.

“Why not, honey?” I inquired.

There was no hesitation, but a clear, calculated response:

“Because I’m not perfect.”

At the age of seven, my daughter was ready to give up striving to be a saint simply because it did not seem attainable. There was no way in which she could envision a path to success.

We spent that dinner telling the stories of sinners-turned-saints, of progress, and of a perfection only heaven knows. My daughter was truly shocked. She had spent most of her young life hearing about the end result, but not the journey it took to achieve sainthood. In her eyes, saints were always saints, never making mistakes, and never dishonoring God.

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This was an important moment of pause for us as parents. Where else have we failed to tell the whole story? Where has hiding our mistakes robbed us of the opportunity to witness to conversion, grace, and hope? When we privatize our struggle and publicize our triumph, we build a façade that makes following Christ seem impossible.

As Catholics, we are told from the day of our child’s Baptism:

You are accepting the responsibility of training him (her) in the practice of the faith … by word and example, [may you] prove to be the first witnesses of the faith. (The Order of Baptism of Children, paragraph 77)

My example to my children is not helpful if they only see me following the rules and never struggling. Our faith is not a script, but a relationship. We do not check “good” boxes and get silver star stickers at the end of the day on our Jesus behavior charts. However, the way we tell the narrative to young ears and minds may speak such fallacies into existence.

In truth, we celebrate our Christianity in the contexts of the suffering, failures, and mercy of a life our children do not always see. It is up to us how we tell our story; the soundbites and successes, or the full, messy context that comes with the life of striving toward sainthood.

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When we privatize our struggle and publicize our triumph, we build a façade that makes following Christ seem impossible. #CatholicMom

The practice of our faith requires the internalization of a method: When I sin, or when I’m hurting, I go back to Christ to be healed. I find Him in the Eucharist, in the Word, in the community gathered, and He is the center of my life. He is always waiting for me.

We can say this with some eloquent theological words, but witnessing to the faith requires action. We must first apologize to our children. Then, we take the family trip to Confession.

We must explain what doubts we have. Then, we let our children watch us attend an adult faith formation opportunity or ask questions to our parish clergy to seek a deeper understanding.

We must say we are struggling, scared, or devastated. Then, we pray a Rosary together asking for a particularly hard intercession.

These are not motions we go through; this is our survival, and if you take the imperfection out of the equation, the routine may seem pointless.

Does your witness create a God who loves you because you behave, or one that literally saves your life and continues to change your heart? As it turns out, pretending to be perfect is about the least helpful thing we can witness to our children.

Thanks be to God!

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