Perfection Isn’t Pretty

I’ve been a Christian for so long, that I barely remember the moment it happened. I never struggled with believing that Jesus died on the cross for my sins, the virgin birth, that God is three in one, or any of those other things that literally sound like mythology if you really think about it. Those were just as much facts about life as George Washington being our first president, and as easy to understand as simple addition.

But in the midst of all of that belief, I didn’t get it for 19 years. The first time I grasped grace was on a playground outside of Durban, South Africa. It involved hearing the Lord’s voice while holding a girl as she ate a dirt covered lollipop.

I can tell you where my perfection comes from. I can tell you the roots, lies, and wounds, that have convinced me not to make mistakes and refuse grace. But as a wise woman once told me, “revelation doesn’t bring restoration”. And the past five years have consisted of God sanctifying and restoring in moments that often feel as gentle as a hammer.

It was in one of these painful chiseling type moments that God told me to read everyone’s favorite book of the bible, Deuteronomy. I was arguing with the Lord, and after a bit of back and forth, reading that book was his answers to my, “Why can’t I just be perfect?”

We tend to think perfectionism is a pretty sin. The one that when calling it a sin might even make us smirk. It’s so harmless. What’s wrong with working for and towards the best? What’s so bad about having a high standard? I understand that no one is perfect, but why can’t I try to be?

In Deuteronomy the price for perfection is quite clear. Rebellious son? The law calls for stoning because perfection doesn’t have freewill or choice. Rape turns into marriage because purity is worth more than justice.

There’s no forgiveness because perfection means no mistakes and no wrongs. There isn’t grace because everything is earned: rewards and punishments alike. There isn’t love because nothing is a choice; it’s obeyed and calculated. There isn’t beauty, mystery, or surprises.

Perfection isn’t pretty. It’s demanding. It’s one-sided. It can’t live in the same place as grace and forgiveness. 

What I found in those pages, was that the calling to be perfect was actually a curse. The bite of a forbidden fruit left the taste of striving for something we would never get to be again. And knowing it couldn’t be attained, we grasped for leaves to cover our shame of not meeting our impossible standard. 

But grace.

Grace says my works are as good as a dirty lollipop, not my source of worth. Grace causes wonder and captivation. It seeks to delight, to praise, to spoil, to cherish, to love.

So often I’ve shrugged off grace. Grace can only exist where there is a failure, and in my attempt to be perfect, I either never acknowledge my failure or avoid the possibility of it happening all together.

The crazy thing is that God never told us to be perfect. In fact, the root of all my perfectionistic tendencies is pride, and God opposes the proud.

I strive for the very thing that takes me further away from God’s presence.

So stop thinking striving to be perfect is a noble calling. Stop believing the lie that it isn’t that bad, and there isn’t any harm in it. Stop using your standard to keep people and your Savior at arms length. You need to drop the leaves you’re hiding behind, and let your Savior clothe you. 

I’ll be the first to stand up and say, this is a scary process. It’s also a very long process. Letting go of needing to be perfect or rather, being perceived as perfect, holy, noble, worthy, whatever adjective you use, means being okay with the risk of failure. It’s showing your vulnerability. It means you are free to let your God and your people actually see you and actually love you. 

He never told you to be perfect, he told you to abide.