Persian Rug and Me

            My grandfather was my favorite person in my life. He taught me about unconditional love. He made me feel valuable and important. He could always see my potential, and he never seemed to notice my flaws, or if he did, he didn’t point them out.

            When he would come to visit, he would spend memorable quality time with me, often playing cards, and just chatting about interesting things in life. He was curious about everything and probably the smartest man I have ever known. While my mother and grandmother took every opportunity to show me where I fell short, my Grampa embraced my flaws. This made me love him all the more.

            He used to tell me a story about Persian rugs. He was such an amazing storyteller, and I will never be able to share this as well as he could, but he told it to me each and every time that he overheard my mother correcting my behavior. Here is what I remember of my Grampa’s story of the Persian Rugs:

There were monks in ancient Persia who would spend their entire lifetime creating an enormous tapestry. It would fill the entire wall of the monastery and would take them decades to complete. These monks would work so carefully to ensure that there was not a single mistake in any of their weaving. Sometimes, even though they were very careful to watch every thread, they would find a mistake. Even after weeks of additional work beyond the flaw, they would rip it all out to fix this one error. It had to be perfect. This rug was the outward example of their life’s journey and there could never be any room for a mistake. These monks would spend all of their free time working on their massive rug tapestries, carefully inspecting to ensure that it was totally perfect.

At the end of their life, when the rug was completed, they would carefully inspect the rug for many days to ensure that there was not a single mistake. Not a one! Then, they would go back and put a flaw in the tapestry.  After they made sure it was completely perfect, they would add an imperfection, because, after all, only God could be perfect.

          After Grampa would tell me this story, he would say, “Honey, there is your Persian rug flaw, because remember, only God is perfect.”  Then he would wink at me, and give me that mischievous smile that said loud and clear, “You are loved just as you are.”

            I miss my Grampa every day, but I have never forgotten his expression of unconditional love. I am so grateful for his example because it has made it so much easier to understand how God looks beyond our shortcomings and only sees the Christ in us. 

            John 12:47 says, [Then Jesus cried out,…] “As for the person who hears my words but does not keep them, I do not judge him. For I did not come to judge the world, but to save it.”

            I get this! I really do, because I had a Grampa who did not judge me. He did his best to help me focus on my gifts and not my flaws. Even better, I have a Heavenly Papa who loves me with a love that goes beyond my wildest imagination, and He sent His Son, not to point out all that I am not, but rather, all that I am and meant to be.

            I continue to create my life’s tapestry while course-correcting, and learning how to be better. I have been given many opportunities to rework those areas that need fixing, but of course, unlike the Persian Monks and their diligence to attend to every thread, it is not perfect. I will, however, embrace those imperfections because they remind me so vividly of how each of us continues to be a work in progress.

            When you make a mistake, don’t allow it to destroy you, but instead, remember the story of the Persian rug. Only God is perfect, and we should expect a flaw in our tapestry. That is exactly why we need a Savior.