When Good Becomes the Enemy of God’s Best

I'll admit it, I'm a perfectionist to my core. My world revolves around precise alignment, immaculate organization, and flawless execution. Spreadsheets must be color-coded, books arranged by genre and height, and every project I tackle must be completed to exacting standards. It's exhausting, really.

Lately, though, the Lord has been gently working with me to differentiate between excellence and perfectionism. Both seem similar on the surface, but their motivations are entirely different, and only one is pleasing to God.

• Excellence is a spiritual discipline motivated by love for God. It's about giving your best effort, talent, and time because you love God and want to honor Him. It is a form of worship, and it is flexible and adaptable.

• Perfectionism is a work of the flesh motivated by fear and a desire for control. It's about striving for an impossible, flawless standard to gain approval from others, to control the outcome, and to avoid criticism. It is a form of self-worship, and it is rigid and brittle.

The thought struck me like a lightning bolt. Excellence says, "I'm offering my best to the Lord." Perfectionism says, "My best isn't good enough." One honors God; the other subtly dishonors Him.

Ouch!

How many ministry opportunities have I delayed or declined because I couldn't do them "perfectly"? How many times have I redone perfectly good work because it didn't meet my impossible standard? How often has my pursuit of perfection actually hindered God's work rather than enhanced it?

Perfectionism, I realized with startling clarity, was my thinly veiled attempt to control outcomes that were never mine to control in the first place.

The apostle Paul understood the difference between excellence and perfectionism. He wrote, "Not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect: but I follow after..." (Philippians 3:12). Paul recognized his own imperfection yet continued pursuing excellence for Christ.

Excellence says, "I'll use my gifts to the best of my ability and trust God with the results."

Perfectionism says, "If I can just get this exactly right, I can guarantee the outcome."

One acknowledges God's sovereignty; the other tries to usurp it.

One frees us to serve joyfully; the other enslaves us to impossible standards.

I've learned (and am still learning) that God often works most powerfully through our imperfections. After all, "we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us" (2 Corinthians 4:7).

When I stand before others to speak despite my nervousness. When I send an encouraging note that might contain a typo. When I serve where needed, though I might fumble. These imperfect offerings often touch hearts more deeply than my "perfect" productions.

God isn't waiting for our perfection. He's looking for our willingness.

So I'm learning to offer my loaves and fishes, my imperfect but excellent best, and watch in wonder as He multiplies them beyond what my perfectionism could ever achieve.