Farmers who wait for perfect weather never plant. If they watch every cloud, they never harvest. – Ecclesiastes 11:4

I used to boast, "I'm a total perfectionist." I laid claim to that with a sense of bravado, like it was some altruistic attribute I should promote. Older and wiser, I now look back on that and shake my head. What was I thinking? Somewhere along the way, I believed that the illusional pursuit of perfection was positive. Oh, the heartache and disappointment of chasing after something so elusive. The problem with perfectionism is that it leaves us stuck, self-absorbed, or at a complete stop.

For a recovering perfectionist like me, the lure of believing the "be all, do all" lie remains a struggle, but by grace, I'm learning the art of self-acceptance. The rehabilitation process begins with a straightforward confession – I'm not Jesus. I mean, duh! It sounds so ridiculously obvious, but when we attempt to put on a perfect face, we're trying to convince others that we are the lone human without flaw or struggle. Honestly, when we boil it down to the ugly truth, perfectionism is 100% about approval addiction. We are seeking the approval of man ahead of dependence on God. Ouch, right? I know, but the sting is good. It tells us we are out of bounds in our thinking, and that's the second step toward recovery.

Here's something else about perfectionism you may not have considered. And, yes, you guessed it, it may bite a bit as well. When we give others the impression that we've got it all perfectly together, we rob them of blessing. That's right. We steal the blessing from others by trying to be what we simply are not – perfect. Why? Because people are desperately in need of fellowship with imperfect people. We all yearn for someone with whom we can be transparent and authentic. We were created for community and communion with others to bear each other's burdens. When it appears that we have none, we become less effective and may even miss ministry opportunities. I mean let's be honest. I'm over here with three-day-old hair that's surviving on dry shampoo, a leftover headache from the outrageous bickering between my "loving" children as I rushed them out of the house with one shoe on and a burnt piece of toast hanging from their lips, all while struggling to hush the hurtful words my mind is shouting at me because my shorts from last summer felt suffocatingly tight, and did nothing to compliment my unshaved legs.

How likely am I to be my authentic self in front of something that has me convinced they have indeed attained the prize of perfection? Looking like Jesus to a hurting world can be a tricky thing. We are here to be His ambassadors and emulate Him, yet balance the desperate need for Him. How do we do that? How do we look like Jesus while maintaining our dependence upon Him? It's as simple as remembering that He is perfect because we are not, and our number one priority is to make that known as often as possible. Point our lives back to Him. That's the answer! Remember that we are not called to shine the light of our perfection but His! To Him be the glory! Psalm 18:30-32 says that God's way is perfect. All of His promises prove true. He is a shield for all who look to him for protection. For who is God except for the Lord? Who but our God is a solid rock? God arms me with strength, and he makes my way perfect.

The weight of maintaining a perfect façade is exhausting. That, my friends, is a weight we can't carry. The pursuit of perfection is rooted in fear. We fear that we may be found out. We fear that others may not approve of us. We fear that we may fall or fail. Fear is not of God. The number one way to pull the plug on perfectionism is to shift our way of thinking about our perceived flaws and shortcomings. When we begin to view them in light of how they may help someone else, we become ministers instead of martyrs. When we find the courage to be authentic about our need for the Author and Perfector of our faith, we move from self-focus to savior-focus. What an exchange! The heavy yoke of perfection in trade for the light yoke of permission and grace. Yes, please!

If, like me, you struggle with perfectionism, ask the Lord to rewrite your script. Ask Him to rewrite what is written on your heart and in your thoughts. There's an entire community of imperfect souls around you waiting to embrace your authentic, genuine, imperfect life and you have a God who sees and knows them all but wholly, fully loves you anyway.

Let's pray. Lord Jesus, you are perfect. I am not. I will never be perfect. That's why I so desperately need you. Like Paul, I have sharp thorns that I sometimes try to disguise. Please forgive me for that. When tempted to be something I'm not, will you remind me that You are with me and that is all I need? Your power shows up best in weak people. Please, make me glad to boast about how weak I am; I am glad to be a living demonstration of Christ's power instead of showing off my power and abilities. Since I know it is all for Christ's good, I am quite happy about "the thorn," and about insults and hardships, persecutions, and difficulties; for when I am weak, then I am strong—the less I have, the more I depend on You. I pray to be a valuable vessel for your purposes and for ministering the perfecting love of Christ in this hurting world. Lord, would you give me the courage to be broken so that I can point to the Restorer? In your precious and perfect name, I pray. Amen.