Confessions of a Perfectionist
Frequently in college I would amuse my roommate by verbalizing to him my to-do list for the day. I would plan to hit the books, get started on a paper that is still three weeks out, be proactive in my required reading. Then I would plan to go to the gym in the afternoon and enjoy some leisurely time later in the day. That for me was the perfect day. It was productive and forward thinking, yet there was time left over for rest.
Well surprise, surprise: more often than not my ideal day
would fail to come to fruition. When it came down to it, I lacked the fortitude
and the personal discipline to see my dreams into reality. Hours that
could have been spent in rich, unadulterated study were squandered playing
chess in the library or watching soccer highlights. Time that could have been
spent on the treadmill in the gym were traded for an afternoon nap. Some days I
may have gotten closer to my objectives than others, but the perfect day proved
elusive.
This brand of perfectionism was not limited to my schedules, however.
When I look back, even as a kid I would dream of the perfect life. I would by
my estimation, grow up to be a strong and dashing man with a career in politics
(maybe change the world for the good in the process). Or I would come up with
some entrepreneurial product and make millions. Maybe I would overcome my fears
of public speaking and become Billy Graham 2.0, preaching to thousands and
write earth shaking books with my obvious genius. Or maybe still my body
would late bloom into that of a freakish athlete that could have
a career in a professional sport.
So when I went to college and quickly realized that I was
not good enough for the D-III NAIA soccer team. Or when I caught someone
sleeping during MY Bible study. Or when I wrote something I thought was good, but few cared to read. Or when instead of finding a lot of awesome
in my life, I found a lot of normal--there is disappointment!
Reality, even very good reality, just never seemed to match my idealistic
conceptions.
But this unhealthy perfectionism as described not only
guarantees disappointment, it also paralyzes. It holds back. Because why would
anyone play a game when mediocrity is guaranteed? Who wants to always finish
seventh? Why invest blood, sweat, and tears in people when measurables of
success are impossible to read? Or why would anyone put themselves
"out there" in ministry or career or relationships when failures,
mistakes, and criticisms are unavoidable? We perfectionists often
believe that if it can't be done perfectly, it is not worth doing at all. So
instead of trying and failing we (happily) prefer to fail to try.
I do not think it is wrong to dream. I do not think it is
wrong to set goals (even lofty ones) for yourself that push you farther than
you would be before. Ambition is a good trait that nearly every
"great" in history exhibited. Without drive no one would do
anything. But perfectionism is a different story. Perfectionism is dangerous.
It steals your joy and restrains your life. It also has a very nasty root: pride.
Though pride manifests itself in innumerable ways, it always
says in essence "my life is all about me." Pride views
everything through the lens of ME. It is wrapped up entirely in the idea of ME. It is the definition of self-worship,
and in the form of perfectionism, pride designates value to things
that I do very well--because I do them very well. Something is worth doing not because it is a good or
noble thing to do, but only because I am good at doing it. Deeds are done
not because they are valuable, but because they designate a degree of
value to me. Perfectionism is about how I am perceived, and maybe not even how
I am perceived by others, but how I am perceived by myself.
And what makes pride so dangerous for Christians
is that it goes straight against the call of our Savior Jesus Christ who
instead of calling us to a life of personal exaltation, glory, and perfection--he
calls us to lose ourselves. Achievements and prestigious records
vigorously pursued and worshiped have no room before a jealous God.
They oppose each other. There is no room for Jesus in the heart where
self is on the throne.
So we must get rid of self. An example of a character who exemplified this is none other than John the
Baptist. For a season John had incredible personal success and fame. People
flocked to him, and were coming in multitudes to be baptized by the radical,
locust eating wanderer. John was experiencing so much success in fact that
people were even asking if he was the Messiah.
To me, John's ministry looks a lot what a perfect ministry
would look like. Not only was there a following, but there was a response.
People were repenting of their sins, and hearts were being prepared for the
Messiah. Talk about a significant life! A perfect life.
But when Jesus finally came around--the numbers eventually
faded for John. The fame that he had enjoyed had subsided, and the national focus rescinded to a far
more interesting target. One of his followers approached him about this in John 3: “Rabbi, that man who was with you on the other side of the
Jordan—the one you testified about—look, he is baptizing, and everyone is going
to him.”
What was John's response to his remarkably
sudden decline, and Jesus's sharp rise at his expense? Jealousy and envy perhaps? Rage? What about melancholic
depression? Instead John simply says:
The bride belongs to the bridegroom. The friend who attends the bridegroom waits and listens for him, and is full of joy when he hears the bridegroom’s voice. That joy is mine, and it is now complete. He must become greater; I must become less.
John the Baptist got it right. For him, his life was not
about how great he did, or how perfectly eloquent his speeches were. He wasn't
measuring his performance by some flawless scorecard in in his head for the purpose of making him feel better about himself. John could care less what
"name" he made for himself--or even the difference he had made. How could he? He had lost himself that he
might find Christ. And instead of his joy being dependent on his personal performance,
John’s joy was complete for no other reason than that Christ was growing in fame.
Perfectionism is a struggle that may depend on the
temperament. But we all can learn something from its cure. Jesus demands that
we lose our prideful hearts that revolve around self and insist on being
perfect (the best, significant, fill in the blank...). In the example of John
the Baptist (and ultimately our Savior) let's get over ourselves. Let's
break that idealism that pads our egos and tells us about our inherit
goodness. Instead of engrossing in ME, may we be fixated on our
Savior—worshiping, serving, and enjoying Him above all illusions of personal
excellence.
"What is more, I consider everything a loss because of
the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have
lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain
Christ" -- Philippians 3:8
Comments
Post a Comment