There once was a thick, dark sludge that lived in my chest. A sludge called perfectionism that bred anxiety and brittled my bones.

A sludge that when released, spewed judgment, condemnation, and slander. A trifecta produced by a deep, dark insecurity that was masked by perfectionism. This perfectionism looked like superior thoughts, actions, grades, and morals.

This perfectionism allowed a negativity born of the dark sludge to seep into my brain cells. And soak into my veins. Only to become clotted in my lungs. And stitched into the seams of my heart valves.

The sludge's influence in my bones was pervasive. My skeleton felt brittle, weighed down by the moral muck and mire that waged ware inside of my soul. Despite the facade of excellence, I felt dirty, heavy, exhausted.

The Sludge

The few shreds of confidence that survived the sludges conquest stayed afloat of devastating collapse on the buoyancy of a perfectionism. A perfectionism that was an ironic invention of the sludge. A convincing charade that negated my need for a savior in much the same way that the morally obtuse reject a need for Christ through substances, relationships, and aggression.

The sludge encouraged bouts of anxiety, and insecurity. First telling me I was better than everyone around me and then forcing me to question whether I really was.

When prodded, by comparison, competition, or uncertainty this sludge hampered my respiration and exhausted my mood. This sludge inhibited my self-esteem and married itself to the angst and anxiety that longed to be free from my chest cavity.

When I finally Identified the Sludge…

At my lowest, I finally saw the sludge inside of me for what it was. Sad, saturated in shame, and desperately in need of a savior. Far from perfect.

It was in this place that I learned that striving for moral perfection is just as devastating as living a life of frivolous abandon. The weight of perfection and inadequacy that I felt must have been similar to the weight of shame and regret that other's were carrying. As Timothy Keller put it:

It is possible to avoid Jesus as a Savior as much by keeping all the Biblical rules as by breaking them. Both religion (in which you build your identity on your moral achievements) and irreligion (in which you build your identity on secular pursuit or relationship) are, ultimately, spiritually identical courses to take (140-141).
Timothy Keller, The Reason for God.

Once I realized this, the sludge began to dissolve. The clots in my lungs and heart valves were absolved by the absolution of an anticoagulant called Jesus.

I shook off the heaviness that weighed me down. The heaviness that prompted me to keep up appearances. The anxiety of trying to be better than others in order to appease God. The weight of a insecurity that pervaded the skewed image of myself that I had longed to be rid of.

It didn't matter how good I was. How morally upright I was, or how closely I abided by the rules of the Bible. What mattered was recognizing my need for Jesus.

Every single one of us, young and old, long-time believer or freshly saved, needs a savior.

We must daily seek God's grace and forgiveness and remember that our God wants a personal relationship with us more than he wants a grocery list of good deeds.

Allow yourself to be free of the sludge. Liberated from the weight. And surrender your burdens to be buried.

You can read more about this topic in Timothy Keller's book The Reason for God