One cannot measure oneself against the Lord, the One who is always “ever greater.”
Any life honestly and objectively measured against perfection would be assigned an F, written in a fat black marker of sin and death. One of those really bad smelling black markers you remember from primary school that was supposed to smell like licorice.
But merged with a sweet red “t” of redemption these “F”s will be washed through a process of purification and sanctification into a golden A in eternity.
As a mathematical formula, salvation might be expressed:
I really struggled with algebra, I have to admit.