Monday, August 10, 2009
On Perfectionism, Part 2
Motivation #1: Fear
We’re terrified of personal failure. We tremble at the thought of disappointing anyone we respect or love. The ghosts of future disasters waft through our imaginations, triggering stress.
Beneath all this drivel we feed ourselves about our “work-ethic” and how we’re trying to “glorify God through excellence,” we've hidden a truth from ourselves. We’re mousey. No matter how placid and confident we appear, we're timorous at heart; a mere whiff of anything we deem failure topples our assurance. Perfectionism is only the paper shield we try to duck behind for safety.
But this buried, irrational fear begs another question. Why are we cowards? Why does imperfection-- even in minute measures that other people never notice-- grip our hearts with anxiety?
Motivation #2: Control
Because failure means embarrassment. It's the ultimate unmasking, showing everyone who we really are. Perhaps worse still, failure proves to ourselves that we are weak, bumbling people without any real charge over our own destinies.
Even the most carefully-laid plans misfire. Circumstances intervene without asking our consent first. And in spite of our hard work, we still can’t win every time or perform flawlessly. It doesn’t really matter how much we crave an ideal of “perfection” in a certain area; ultimately, the outcome is never under our power.
There. I've said it. The simple, obvious realization that stops the hearts of all would-be sovereigns: I'm not in control.
But we must have control. When a driver's gas pedal quits working en route, he feels an instinctive surge of panic-- why? Because he knows that a crash is waiting to happen if you can't control your vehicle. Likewise, if we cannot guarantee our perfection, humiliation is waiting expectantly just a few miles down the road. Naturally, then, control is everything-- without that illusion, our security is gone. This is why we strive so doggedly after our aims; what alternative is there, without increasing our risk of the embarrassment or frustration that failure brings?
So we've circled back to failure again. We seek control because we fear failure, and we fear failure because it devastates us-- but why does it devastate?
Motivation #3: Self
There can only be one answer: we’re consumed with ourselves. Independently, minor mistakes and imperfections are rarely frightening monstrosities-- unless, that is, we have something very deep and very personal at stake. Our pride.
Even small things-- like scouring the kitchen so long that you could eat off the floor, though it meant missing an opportunity to love someone-- are used to boost our delight and confidence in ourselves. After a thorough job, we can then conclude that "I did this well", with unduly heavy emphasis on the I. I'm in control. I've just succeeded. I look good; I feel good.
Feeling good about ourselves isn't wrong when it's paired with heartfelt thanksgiving to God, who deserves all glory. But that doesn't describe the typical response of our hearts, does it? Lip-service to God aside, our concern is usually all self-focused-- it's all about us and our image. Faith works for God’s glory; perfectionism always works for mine.
Because of this, a God-trusting perfectionist is a contradiction in terms. In practice, the perfectionist’s hope is visibly grounded elsewhere: in himself, and his often-wobbly performance. Faith relies on God; perfectionism relies on me.
Crushing Perfectionism
It isn’t surprising, then, that Scripture calls everyone who trusts in himself a fool (Prov. 28:26), but exclaims, “Blessed is the man who makes the Lord his trust" (Ps. 40:4)!
There’s this really interesting, twisty element of faith, though. Have you ever tried trusting God to ensure that you don’t embarrass yourself? When pride was your unquestionable motive? It comes out a little awkwardly in a prayer. (Been there, done that, got a closet of T-shirts.)
Here’s the thing: we can’t trust God to give us the “stellar” results—from our human, perfectionist's perspective—that we crave. That’s our agenda, but not necessarily His; God will never choose to spare me from mistakes when they contribute to making me more like His Son. His aim is His own glory, not mine. John Piper loves to say, "Don't waste your life making yourself look good. Use your life making God look good"-- because it's so true. At the end of the day, only He matters.
With this God-centered perspective, faith takes on a different hew. We can trust God to make all the circumstances of our lives-- including our failures-- work "for good" (Romans 8:28). We can trust that He is faithful and loving (Deuteronomy 7:9), that He is chiseling away at the sin in our lives (Ephesians 5:25-27), and that He will glorify His own Name (Isaiah 42:8).
As we slowly replace our self-absorbed focus, concentrating instead on God's sovereign control and matchless worth, something strange begins to happen in our hearts.
When we don’t meet our ideals after giving it our best, we are no longer so perturbed; we can't be, because whoever trusts in the Lord is full of joy (Prov. 16:20, Ps. 33:21). We're free to push ourselves hard— but our feathers aren’t ruffled anymore at the prospect of humiliation, since our trust and hope have been invested in God (Isaiah. 26:3-4). Normally, we can’t stand our own weakness; now, we can rejoice in the knowledge that God’s strength is perfected in our frailty (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).
The timid perfectionist in us starts to shrink-- while fearless, unshakable joy takes root.
Related Posts:
* Gloriously Frail
* The Truth About Insecurity
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