Have you ever felt like you needed to present a perfect facade to hide your imperfections? I feel like this all the time. In home, I have to be my family’s strength during hard times; in my church, I have to say I’m okay even on days when I’m not particularly well; in my Instagram feed, I have never put up a picture showing me on an “off” day that I could remember. In fact, I rarely put pictures of myself on social media because my eyes go straight to all my imperfections. I even find myself putting on a game face when I talk to God, as if He didn’t already see all my imperfections, as though He didn’t already see my pain and hurts and unrighteous anger and needs.

I feel this overwhelming desire for perfection and it seems to be rooted in what I think other people are thinking about me. I struggle to connect with the Christian women around me because I feel an overwhelming need to be seen as perfect. Who could I trust to keep my secret that I am, in fact, as far from perfect as imperfection gets? It’s a strange form of pride that masks my imperfections with the show of “Everything’s great!” But who do I then turn to when life starts getting really, really not perfect? When I’m going through the tough times, who gives me permission to just be myself and grieve my sad circumstances and endure my hard circumstances? Who helps me shine my light in the darkness? Who will be imperfect together with me?

I’ve always loved the story of Ruth and Naomi. I mean, who doesn’t? Sure it starts off sad, but it ends with such a beautiful, redemptive love story! But what’s really drawn me to Ruth and Naomi’s story consistently is their friendship — neither were what was considered perfect, yet they chose to love one another through their ups and downs. They’re the perfect example of friends being imperfect together. 

In the beginning of their story, Naomi was in the wrong place: her country (Israel) had endured a famine and rather than trust God to help their family through it, she had moved with her husband to a land known for their false gods. She moved into the middle of a people who hated her country and her God. She built her life there, raised two sons there, and then tragically her husband and two sons passed away. She was left with two daughter-in-laws born of people who hated Naomi’s heritage. She decides to go back home and started down the road to her past, her two daughters beside her.

Suddenly, Naomi changed her mind, turned to her daughter-in-laws, and told them, ” Go, return each to her mother’s house: the Lord deal kindly with you, as ye have dealt with the dead, and with me. The Lord grant you that ye may find rest, each of you in the house of her husband.” She kissed them and all three wept. They had endured the hardest possible circumstances, the loss of each of their husbands, together and now Naomi released her companions back to their own families.

Orpah kissed Naomi goodbye and returned to Moab. But Ruth… Ruth looked at Naomi, clearly stricken with grief and bitterness over her circumstances, and replied,

“Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord to so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.” 

Ruth basically told Naomi, “We’re ride or die. I know you have nothing to offer me– I see the imperfect circumstance we’re in and I know we’re going to a place that I don’t know — but let’s go there and be imperfect together. Until death, I am your companion and friend.” When Naomi saw Ruth’s determination, she accepted Ruth’s choice and they continued on their way together. When the two women reached their destination, we see these verses ending their journey in Ruth 1:19-22:

“So they two went until they came to Bethlehem. And it came to pass, when they were come to Bethlehem, that all the city was moved about them, and they said, Is this Naomi?

And she said unto them, Call me not Naomi, call me Mara: for the Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with me. I went out full, and the LORD hath brought me home again empty: why then call ye me Naomi, seeing the LORD hath testified against me, and the Almighty hath afflicted me?

So Naomi returned, and Ruth the Moabitess, her daughter in law, with her, which returned out of the country of Moab: and they came to Bethlehem in the beginning of barley harvest.”

Naomi , whose name means laughter, told these people to call her Mara, which means “bitter.” Bitterness doesn’t happen overnight: it takes time for grief, pride, sorry, and anger to mingle and grow up into the roots of bitterness. Ruth followed Naomi, just as she told her she would, despite Naomi’s growing bitterness over their journey. Naomi’s imperfect feelings had grown so strong that Naomi now identified ONLY as her imperfection. Yet, we never see Ruth tell her she should put their past behind her or that she was wrong to show up at their new community identifying herself as bitterness. Ruth accepted Naomi’s imperfections and worked to serve her and love her until she became herself again.

There’s no excuse for bitterness: I know God is very, very clear that bitterness has no place in a Christian’s heart. But if you’re a woman, you’re also a human: humans are not perfect. When you see someone acting or speaking their imperfections, do you remain loving and accept that they are imperfect or do you expect perfection from their human heart?

Can we not be broken together, still encouraging each other to heal and grow through love, acts of service, closeness (Ruth and Naomi, after all, lived together) and friendship even when we’re not very lovable? I can’t help but imagine and hope for a community of women who could one day love one another, broken pieces and all, in such a way that judgment is not passed, but rather love. Truth is spoken not in harsh tones on a Facebook post, but while accompanying a hug or a word of encouragement.

In 1 Corinthians 13, the chapter defining love, we find these words about true love. Love will “beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.” It sounds to me like the kind of love that I’m looking for from the women in my life is able to handle being imperfect together. But only if I’m willing to show my imperfect pieces as though they were perfect.

Maybe this is just an honest prayer to God asking for help to be honest in my presentation to the great big world… maybe this is just a silent, written request to the great community of Christian women I come into contact with almost every day, but… can we not be imperfect together? 

Love, Meghan