“My non-Christian friends are better about talking about things like this,” a friend once confessed, highlighting a stark contrast in how different communities approach life’s challenges. This observation points to a common misconception: that Christians must always appear “smooth and shiny,” perfectly composed and without flaws. But why do we often feel pressured to project an image of flawless perfection? Is it fear? Fear that honesty about our struggles, about the messy, imperfect realities of our lives, will somehow diminish our witness for God?
This begs the question: what falsehoods do we believe that equate Christianity with a life devoid of struggle and imperfection? And why do so many feel compelled to present a “smooth and shiny” facade to be considered a true follower of Jesus? This notion is particularly ironic when considering the very foundations of Christianity. Unlike religions that advocate withdrawal from the world or demand unattainable levels of purity, Christianity began in the humblest of circumstances – the birth of Jesus in a barn, amidst the grit and grime of human existence. Jesus actively sought out the marginalized, those deemed furthest from God, making his home among them. As scripture reminds us, “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Corinthians 5:21, NIV). This act of divine exchange highlights that Christianity is not about pristine perfection, but about transformation amidst imperfection.
Christians who confine their image to being perpetually “shiny and smooth” risk becoming irrelevant, like artifacts locked away in sterile display cases, detached from the messy, real world. A more authentic and impactful approach is to acknowledge our true state: we are all works in progress, “rough rocks” in constant need of Rock Polishing. The concept of rock polishing serves as a powerful metaphor for discipleship and spiritual growth. Imagine taking jagged, unrefined rocks and placing them into a tumbler with grit. The machine’s agitation causes the rocks to rub against each other, chipping away at the sharp edges and rough spots. Over time, this process reveals a collection of surprisingly smooth, polished, and uniquely beautiful stones.
This image of rock polishing provides a valuable framework for reframing the stressors and challenges we encounter in life. It allows us to view those around us – the irritating colleague, the intrusive neighbor, the family member who consistently stirs up conflict – with newfound empathy. We begin to see each other as fellow “rocks,” each with our own sharp and uneven edges. We are all bumping and grinding against one another, inevitably causing friction and pain, but also contributing to each other’s rock polishing process, smoothing out those imperfections. This understanding provides the “grit” needed to engage in difficult conversations, whether with a coworker or a family member. The pressures of deadlines, financial anxieties, and other external stressors become the very agitation that accelerates this transformative rock polishing. These are not seen as disappointments to a Savior seeking perfect specimens; rather, it is in our honest response and engagement with the realities of life that we discover Christ’s presence and experience his tangible love.
However, embracing the rock polishing metaphor demands something profoundly challenging: honesty, transparency, and vulnerability. No one willingly displays their impurities. We instinctively hide the cracks and crevices on our surface, concealing the “dirt” accumulated from life’s tumultuous journey. It requires courage to willingly enter the “rock tumbler” with other Christians, to expose our imperfections in the pursuit of growth.
In many ways, being in the “tumbler” – within genuine Christian community – is one of the most daunting yet transformative places to be. It’s an invitation to vulnerability, a declaration: “I am committed to this journey with you, trusting that God will use our interactions to refine me.” This refinement isn’t solely achieved through gentle encouragement or self-improvement projects. While God uses these tools, sometimes a more robust, “rough-and-tumble” process is necessary when gentler methods prove insufficient.
Personally, I’ve recently become acutely aware of new layers of “dirt” and roughness within my own character. Despite being in the “rock polisher” for a considerable time, deeper imperfections have surfaced. One persistent temptation is the relentless pursuit of success – for myself and for my children. While I profess that Christ is the ultimate hope, I often find myself fiercely engaged in the competitive academic game, striving to equip my children to excel and “win.” Despite advocating for the inherent worth of all individuals, I’ve caught myself hoping my child isn’t placed in a classroom with a “troublesome” child. And my children aren’t even in kindergarten yet!
It has taken the honest feedback and consistent support of others in my community to reveal these inconsistencies. Through their probing questions and unwavering presence, I’ve been forced to confront the gap between my stated beliefs and my actual pursuits. It is through the fellowship of fellow Christians, who have navigated similar temptations with honesty, that my assumptions are challenged and the implications of my choices are brought to light. This process demands honesty and vulnerability on my part. If I can muster even a fraction of both, I consider it progress. The reality is, consistently embodying both is a struggle – which is precisely why I remain in the “rock polisher,” still tumbling, but moving closer to being refined. I am, undoubtedly, not yet finished.
Resisting the urge to escape the “rock polisher,” to feign a state of polished perfection, is a constant effort. It’s uncomfortable to confront candid feedback about my sharp edges, about how I might be causing friction in my workplace, community, and family. Owning my mistakes and failures is humbling, even embarrassing. My instinct is to shield myself with defensiveness rather than embrace the uncomfortable grains of truth embedded within criticism.
And yet, it is precisely this honesty, this vulnerability, and this collective grappling with truth that grants us relevance in a world that is inherently gritty, messy, and sharp. Our pretense of being “shiny and smooth” offers nothing of substance to those around us. Instead, it creates distance, allowing us to self-righteously judge from afar. It is in our willingness to remain in the “rock polisher,” bumping against other imperfect “rocks,” that true depth, resilience, and the transformative power of life with Jesus are revealed, allowing our authentic selves, imperfections and all, to shine.
