I change the light bulbs around our church. A friend likes to tease me when he finds a bulb out in the sanctuary, joking that it disrupts his concentration during Eucharist. Today was one of those days. And even though I know he was certainly joking, I still feel something niggling around deep inside. Sitting at mid-day service, I try to ask God why I feel guilty about the light bulb. It just went out, and I didn’t have time to get to it anyway. Why do I feel this way? I’m reminded of what a good friend, who has now passed away, used to say to me — she would call me “Mr. Perfect”. This always infuriated me, but it was true. I always want everything to be “just so”. I think I treat life much too much like a light bulb. If the bulb is on, then I’m doing okay. As silly as it sounds, I think too often I replace faith in what God is asking me to do with trying to get everything perfect.