
One day when I was out in our back yard thinking about the audacity of some people who were trying to tell me that some things were wrong with my life, it occurred to me that there is no perfect tree. We don't judge a tree by whether or not its branches and leaves have exactly the shape we think they should have; we look at the whole tree and admire its beauty.
I was taught that sin is a failure to live up to the perfection that God requires for a relationship with him. The concept of a perfect person makes no more sense than that of a perfect tree. Each is different and each is good. I feel uniquely valuable and enjoy being myself. I look for ways in which my particular abilities can be useful to other people. I take pleasure in who I am, apart from my accomplishments.
It seems that we increase our discontent with life by comparing it to the way things are "supposed to be." We set up an unattainably high standard for what we want from our friends, our jobs, and every aspect of life, and then feel disappointed because the reality isn't what we think it ought to be. Realizing that there is no "ought" has mellowed me. I can enjoy my job even if it isn't what I've always dreamed of doing. I can be disappointed with my friend's decision not to go hiking with me without being angry that he isn't doing what a friend "should" do.

People make moral judgements as a way of attempting to control other people's actions. At the bottom of all control issues, there seems to be fear—fear that people will do things that will harm me or other people. Maybe they will. If they do, I will do whatever I can to protect myself and others. But I will try to limit myself to defensive actions that don't unnecessarily limit the offender's choices, because that's how I would want to be treated.
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