Who do you look up to? That act that we look up implies that they are above us. Whoever “they” is. Above. Better. And…well…perfect.
We aren’t supposed to be perfect. Even you.
We think saints are perfect.
Perfectly patient.
When we see the most obnoxious person in the entire world and we see their spouse gazing up at them, what do we say? She must be a saint.
Perfectly patient and kind.
That same person doesn’t just put up with the most obnoxious person in the world, but they make sure the waiter knows their work is appreciated.What a saint.
Perfectly patient and kind and beyond reproach.
They don’t screw up. Ever. No broken fuses. Or dirty dishes in the sink. They are on it all. the. time.I wish I could be like that.
None of this makes a person a saint. Saints aren’t perfect. That’s not even close to part of the deal.
Saints are flawed, messed up people who also happen to stand up when others sit. Zig when others zag. Yes, they can be kind when others are mean. But few saints are any more kind than the young person working the drive-thru at Chick-fil-a.
Saints aren’t perfect. So don’t even try to be.
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I don’t understand where this even comes from. A quick glance at a collection of saints and perfection is not what should come to mind. Sacrifice is the far more common denominator. To qualify for sainthood, one doesn’t have to ace the goodness test. Like at all. One of the easiest ways is to die some gruesome death while being persecuted. Which, I feel contractually obligated to tell you is not desirable.
Other things that are saintly involve writing, composing music, or preaching well. Let me tell you, there are a bunch of us using that lane to achieve sainthood. So, it’s pretty crowded.
You could give your life to a serious cause to end human suffering. Or come up with a revolutionary theological insight. This is probably where we get that terrible idea about perfection. These people are brilliant. Or incredibly lucky. In other words, these are the reason you hope God isn’t grading on a curve.
Saints come in all different forms. Human forms. Normal people forms. Not perfect. Or impossibly good. Just…People. Like us.
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I recently read that perfectionism isn’t what we think it is. It isn’t about being perfect, but it’s an expression of fear. Fear of bringing a project to an end. Fear of letting other people judge our work. Like intending to start a podcast seven years ago and never doing it because you don’t have the “right” idea. It isn’t just right. Needing it to be perfect is avoiding the heat of actually doing something well.Perfectionism, like a lot of things in life is a name we give a phenomenon to send ourselves off the scent. Our interior selves, the detectives on the case of self-awareness, know where to look. They see us working over and over on a project.
Something that once made us excited and now…its dragging. We watch ourselves go over it again and again. Trying to get it just right. And then we have the diagnosis: perfectionism.
But our brains are really quite skilled at self-deception. The pursuit of perfection is what our brains want us to think. That’s how it covers its tracks. That’s why perfectionism as a fault sounds like the thing you say in a job interview. When they ask you what is your biggest weakness and you say “I work too hard” or “I care too much.” It’s a way our brains hide a negative behind a positive.
Being imperfect isn’t a negative though. Our brains are totally misguided about this one. They are protecting us from the pain of realizing our imperfection; of being vulnerable.
It is a way of living in a land of make believe.
That thing we call perfectionism is a way of not showing up.
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Perfect isn’t an option. We aren’t striving for perfect. We are striving for good.
We desire to show up. To be there. To make good things and do good work. We desire to help people and make a difference in the world.
None of that takes perfection. It takes owning up to what’s inside you. Something better than perfect. The real you.