We didn’t have RCIA this week, but I had some reading materials from the last class to keep me busy. Thus my first full week of Lent began with a lecture on the severity of sin.

I don’t know about you, but I beat myself up over it. I make promises to change: No grumbling at the driver tailgating you. Be patient with the person asking the same question for a third time. Eat because you’re hungry, not because you’re bored. Sometimes I’m okay, but sometimes I’m not. (Why do so many people tailgate?) I make excuses. (Someone brought my favorite cookies to the office.) We think we’re so unique, that no one else has ever sinned like we have, but let me tell you: We’ve been doing this since the beginning of humanity.

We know Adam & Eve are the reason for the fall (thanks, guys!). But there’s more. From the moment Adam hid himself from God, humanity was separated from Him. We sin, and we’re ashamed, and we think we can hide. It’s often not a conscious decision. It’s gradual: We don’t pray one night. Maybe we skip church. We get so consumed with feeling sorry for ourselves that we neglect God altogether. And not just that; we’re separated from one another, too. Adam immediately blamed his wife for eating the fruit. Eve immediately blamed the serpent. Sin not only severs the connection between us and our divine Creator, but also damages the connection between our fellow children of God, too.

Think that one over for a while.

St. Augustine knew all this. I started reading his Confessions this week. This guy had a not-so-great past. He got tangled into some weird cultish religion. He didn’t [finally] submit to God until his 30s (I knew I liked this guy), and he went all out. I only got through two pages of the book because I kept on writing down all the quotes I liked.

“My soul is like a house, small for you to enter, but I pray you to enlarge it. It is in ruins, but I ask you to remake it. It contains much that you will not be pleased to see: this I know and do not hide. But who is to rid it of these things? There is no one but you to whom I can say, If I have sinned unwittingly, do you absolve me. Keep me ever your own servant, far from pride.” —St. Augustine

I feel you, man.

Following Adoration this week, I spied a table of freebies by the door. Amidst the church info and offering envelopes was a stack of books, a thing I could not imagine actually being free despite the giant FREE sign hanging right over them. So I picked up a copy of Perfectly Yourself, having remembered Matthew Kelly’s name pop up many times in RCIA. Living the best life God desires for us, while remaining true to ourselves? This is my kind of material. It goes along with his Best Lent Ever program, though I suspect the book can be read on its own, too. (I hope so, because I’ve certainly planned enough reading for myself for these 40 days.)

We don’t have to change ourselves to live God’s purpose. I’ve struggled with this for years—I’ve tried to be different. I’ve tried to fit into someone else’s concept of the ideal Christian woman. But God made me, with all my imperfections. It’s those imperfections, after all, that draw me closer to Him. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t aim to improve. Not to change, but to become more the person God intended me to be. Like St. Augustine pleads, “I ask you to remake it.”