When Perfect Isn’t Enough

Perfectionist is not a word I would have used to describe myself.

Maybe that’s what should’ve told me that was exactly what I was. You see, I knew that I wasn’t called or supposed or able to be perfect. So, I denied that that was what I was striving for. I wanted excellence in everything, I wanted to make the most of my college education, I wanted to have it all in its exact place.

Perfection is easy when you can hide, when you can locate the nearest exit. If you say just the right thing, you can lie while telling the truth. At the very least, you can talk about hard parts, the weak spots, and the pain in a way that makes it seem like you’re walking out of it and don’t need any help.

I didn’t want to be weak. I spent this semester feeling weaker than ever. I kept writing fiction and poetry because it’s easier to hide behind the words of a character, easier to hide behind metaphor than actually say concrete words for myself. In real life, I mumbled because I couldn’t believe my words were worth hearing. I filled a journal with the assurance that God was the only one reading the fear and single-thread faith.

I knew the verses. I knew the answers. I could give them to anyone within earshot. But I couldn’t hear my own voice. I didn’t feel even a little bit brave. I couldn’t see myself.

Last December, I wrote here that 2017 meant climbing. So far, 2018 has felt like slipping. I did all the right things--attended and served at church, kept my grades up, went to chapel and Bible study, had daily personal time with God. But I was still afraid and anxious. And I didn’t want anyone to know.

|| “I could ask the darkness to hide me 
and the light around me to become night—
but even in darkness I cannot hide from you. 
To you the night shines as bright as day. 
Darkness and light are the same to you.” || 
Psalm 139:11-12

Perfection is easy when you can hide. But there was One from whom I could not hide.

Perfectionism pulled this last semester into a valley. I did not believe that anything I did was good enough if it was less than perfect. If I wasn’t perfect, I wasn’t worthy of love or acceptance, not from anyone. My fears and failures were all my fault and I deserved the hurt. The weight of every decision was a punishment I felt I earned. I was afraid of not being afraid, because I needed to be anxious. I needed to be good enough, and I couldn’t be good enough if I was hyperaware of every single action and word. So I didn’t speak.

This year, I lived in a dorm that was part discipleship program you have to apply for. The housing, called pods, are like a mix of a dorm and an apartment, and I lived with six other girls. In April, ours was the tour pod, which meant that whenever girls toured campus and wanted to see what the program looked like, they came to our pod.

Because we were the tour pod, we had to make sure our rooms and bathrooms and living room were clean, especially the Saturday our school had a preview day. For three hours, groups of high school girls and their families came through where I had been living for almost nine months. I sat doing homework in the corner of our living room, answering questions they had and trying to seem as put-together as my dorm room.

And then they left.

My roommates went to their rooms and took showers or naps. And I closed the front door, turned off the fluorescent lights, because my life was no longer on display for people who may’ve wanted to give it a try in a few months. It is just a life.

Your life is just a life.

My friend, you do not have to be perfect. It is okay to not be okay. Weakness is your honor, not your shame. I will not tell you to “stay strong” because we never were. You are not a display of perfection.

I keep coming back to Psalm 23. Not the stale, tasteless version embroidered on pillows, but the real life truth:

Even when I walk 
  through the darkest valley,
I will not be afraid
  for you are close beside me
Your rod and your staff
  protect and comfort me.

You are not a display of perfection. You are safe. You do not need strife, only grace upon grace.

I have not figured everything out. I am still hiking. But I can see the sun through the trees. Even though I can’t see the peak, I will make it to the next spot I can see. I will take a drink of water and a deep breath, and I will walk. I am with the One who fully knows and fully loves me, and I am safe. Even here, I will worship Him because He is still good.

|| “Each time He said, ‘My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.’ So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses , so that the power of Christ can work through me [...] For when I am weak, then I am strong.” II Cor 12:9-10 ||