"There's only One perfect," she said.

I noticed it from across the street where we were having lunch, the little second-hand shop that looked so cute and inviting. I wandered over to it after we had paid our bill, and there in the display window was the most perfectly imperfect old dresser. It was white and chippy and distressed in all the best ways.

My mind went immediately to work on how terrific this would look as an entry table for our eldest daughter's wedding reception. I could see it all in my head: a pitcher of blush roses placed next to the guest book, candles twinkling inside vintage teacups, lace cascading down the side, and a pair of dainty gloves peeking out from one of the drawers.

I was sold on it before I even asked the price!

Turns out the price was perfect too. I paid the woman behind the counter and began chatting a bit with her about the upcoming wedding. As she removed display items that had adorned the top of the dresser, we got to talking about the "look" of worn furniture, how we both loved it, why we found it so appealing. Then she said this, "I have never minded the little imperfections in a piece, the character they create, the stories they tell. After all, there is only one perfect... only One."

I knew exactly what she meant by that, and somehow that witness... her witness, made the dresser even more special.

As the years have gone by I find myself leaning in to the old, the storied, the weathered and imperfect. My home, and the things I choose to surround myself with, reflect that in a wonderful way. All the imperfections in a piece create a sense of depth I find very relatable, and when I look at them, I am reminded of the shopkeeper's profession.

I've mentioned before about going through a program called Follow the Word, a reading schedule that takes you through the entire Bible in a year. I'm just now finishing Deuteronomy, and I'm going to be honest, the last three books have been hard ones to get through. Difficult because of the content (it's not easy reading) but also because they so clearly define the holiness and perfection of God contrasted with the fallen, stubborn, disobedient imperfection of mankind.

I don't know if the authors of this program took into account how their reading schedule would line up with Holy Week, but it lines up brilliantly. The last chapter of Deuteronomy happens just a few days before Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. Imperfection has been staring me in the face, reminding me just how fallen I truly am. I can't read through the copious verses outlining God's demand for perfect sacrifices, lambs with no blemish, no imperfection... without tears welling up and spilling over.

I am an imperfect human being. There is no way on my own to appease a righteous God. No sacrifice of mine could ever be enough. How thankful I am that Jesus stepped in and took my place. He was the acceptable sacrifice... the only acceptable sacrifice. How incredibly grateful I am that He, the perfect, sinless, spotless Lamb of God was willing.

I owe Him everything.

On the heels of Good Friday comes Easter Sunday, the height in celebration of the Resurrection, of the forgiveness of sins, salvation, and eternal life for all who believe in Him. I would never want to take away from that, but heights can only be fully appreciated by their counterpart. I don't ever want to forget, or make light of, the "good" in Good Friday. The ecstacy we thrill to at Easter came at great price for the One Perfect sacrifice who gave up everything for the imperfect, in order that the imperfect...

could gain everything.