Or a cake. Cake have layers. Everyone likes cake.
But seriously. Lately, I've noticed that the more I change and improve myself, the more I'm aware of how far I have yet to go. One layer comes off, and another bitter, eye-stinging layer is revealed.
It's infuriating.
Here's an example. I consecrate all my time, thoughts, and energy on not cracking my knuckles. It's tough and it takes dedication. But after days and days of concentration, I finally have the sweet, little victory of realizing it is no longer a habit.
Only then, after I've ridded myself of my outermost imperfection, do I recognize my other annoying habit of clicking my tongue. (I provide a never-ending supply of irritating sounds.)
It's a constant, uphill battle to self-improvement. And at times it's discouraging.
Because as we know, in the New Testament, Christ commanded us to be perfect.
Perfect. There are many interpretations of His meaning behind that declaration. The way I understand it is best explained using an example from my life.
When I was younger, I got a job packaging chocolates at this factory. I had to take each chocolate off the conveyor belt, inspect it, and put it in the package. My first day, I started out just fine; the conveyor belt moved at a steady, gentle pace. Then it started to pick up speed, and suddenly it was moving too fast. I could only keep up by shoving chocolates in my mouth as fast as they came down the line.
Ok this story isn't really from my life. It's from I Love Lucy. #youcaughtme
But the principle remains. With so many chocolates coming at once, Lucy was overwhelmed, and she wasn't able to give each chocolate the attention it needed. Rather than inspecting each one carefully, she ended up missing all of them.
When Christ said, "Be ye therefore perfect", I'm pretty sure He wasn't saying "From this point forth, thou shall not make any mistakes, or thou shall be out of luck."
I think His command was to be perfect in our sphere of existence. And I think part of that is that he can't give us all the chocolates at once. He doesn't expect us to change every bad habit and weakness overnight. Otherwise we'd end up with an upset stomach and a hat full of candy.
An amazing member of our ward helped me to understand this principle better through the Book of Mormon.
In Ether chapter twelve, the prophet Moroni teaches us much about weakness. The Lord comforts him and says,
"If men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselve before me, for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them."
She taught me the importance of the wording of this scripture. The Lord says that He gives us weakness -- singular, not plural. He only gives us one weakness at a time (which is incredible, because I know I have a lot more than one), and I firmly believe that He only expects us to work on one weakness at a time.
So back to my onion analogy. As frustrating as it is, I have to be grateful that God doesn't make me aware of all of my short comings at once.
He helps me to see them one proverbial layer at a time.
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