The following is the Introduction from Peace Over Perfection (forthcoming from Faith Chang). It has been printed here with the author’s permission.
Return, O my soul, to your rest; for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you.
Psalm 116:7
As I write these words, my stomach is in knots. I have a vague feeling that I’m being neglectful of unspecified but important responsibilities. I’m afraid I’m getting these sentences wrong. I don’t fear that my writing will be inconsequential or ignored as much as I fear that somehow my words will be read—and end up doing more harm than good. I distrust my motivations and question whether I’m being self-indulgent, or even sinning in putting these words out into the world.
This isn’t merely writer’s doubt. This is Christian perfectionism.
The thought comes to mind: have I spent enough time in devotions today to justify spending time writing about God? Behind the question is the insinuation that if I haven’t read the Bible and prayed enough, I’m being a huge hypocrite right now, just writing empty words. It is an iteration of my deepest fear: that try as I might to obey God, I am actually doing wrong by him and bringing him deep displeasure. I don’t hear that accusation as loudly as I used to, but it is still locked and loaded, my heart in its crosshairs.
Perhaps you are familiar with that voice of accusation and self-doubt. It’s in the persistent, low-grade fear that you’re about to unintentionally slip into sin; the constant discouragement that you’re not as joyful, selfless, humble, or loving as you should be as a Christian; the feeling that no matter how hard you try, you’ll never serve others, evangelize, or enjoy God enough.
Many Christians, often without realizing it, struggle with a kind of spiritual perfectionism. I’ve seen it in college students gripped with anxiety about missing God’s will and in faithful believers in their sixties who feel as though God is always unhappy with them. I’ve witnessed it in teens doubting the genuineness of their faith because they struggle with sin and in ministry leaders who are constantly suspicious of their own motives. It can manifest in something as subtle as minor decision-paralysis or intensify to the level of religious OCD. The specifics may vary, but the anxiety, guilt, and weariness are the same.
Theologian D.A. Carson describes this perfectionism:
Occasionally one finds Christians, pastors and theological students among them, who are afflicted with a similar species of discouragement. They are genuinely Christ-centered. They have a great grasp of the gospel and delight to share it. They are disciplined in prayer and service. On excellent theological grounds, they know that perfection awaits final glorification; but on equally excellent theological grounds, they know that every single sin to which a Christian falls prey is without excuse. Precisely because their consciences are sensitive, they are often ashamed by their own failures—the secret resentment that slips in, the unguarded word, the wandering eye, the pride of life, the self-focus that really does preclude loving one’s neighbor as oneself. To other believers who watch them, they are among the most intense, disciplined, and holy believers we know; to themselves, they are virulent failures, inconsistent followers, mere Peters who regularly betray their Master and weep bitterly.1
You can sincerely believe the gospel and love Jesus while struggling, even to the point of despair, with never feeling good enough before God.
A few years ago, in a small corner of the internet, I wrote an article for believers struggling with this kind of Christian perfectionism. Much of what I’d read and heard addressed to Christians struggling with perpetual fear and guilt in their relationship with God had never really resonated with me. I’d read true biblical words by pastors and counselors about shame, anxiety, and perfectionism, but they never felt like they were for me. So I wrote some reflections on what I’d been learning, hoping to offer comfort and hope to other weary strugglers.
The article seemed to strike a chord. People let me know how they were helped—how they had the same anxiety and guilt but hadn’t known how to address it. One reader commented, “This put into words something I struggled with, but was even unable to diagnose myself. I just had heard it equated to legalism, but I knew I was not justified by my works. So I was confused [about] what exactly was wrong with me and how to fix it.” And another: “I am overwhelmed to hear that there may be rest for my soul, not just in the grace of salvation but in my struggle to love sincerely, to be joyful always, to delight myself in the Lord.”
This book was born out of that blog post, except that now, several years later, I write with even more conviction that I’m not the only one who struggles as I do, and that God has much to say to us about this “species of discouragement”— both in his word and through his people in generations past. The preacher Charles Spurgeon once said, “You will glorify God by resting.”2 He was referring to the words of the psalmist in Psalm 116:7:
Return, O my soul, to your rest;
for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you.
This is the premise of this book: that there is a rest that God gives to Christians which is ours to return to again and again, and it is found in the way he interacts with us. Together, we’ll explore how God deals with us as imperfect people and find that he is far more merciful, righteous, loving, and gracious than we may have dared to believe. I have great hope that as we behold him and his ways with us, our souls will find the rest we desperately need.
I write as a student of God’s word with a background in Human Development. Where appropriate, I’ve gleaned important points from psychological research on perfectionism to help broaden our perspective as we consider what God has to say to us in the Scriptures. Between chapters, I’ve written out some prayers for different situations that Christian perfectionists often face. You can pray these as you finish each chapter or return to them as needed.
As perfectionism is not something we can work through alone, I’ve included questions for discussing each chapter in a group study or with a friend, as well as resources for further study (p 167). Some readers may also find it beneficial to meet with a mental-health professional if they find themselves needing different specific helps beyond the scope of this book. I’ve tried to note when this may be the case.
This book is for weary believers who strive to serve God but find themselves weeping bitterly over their failures more often than not. It’s for those who have been told they are too hard on themselves but don’t know how to pursue holiness without a self-berating inner voice. It’s also for those who’ve become so burnt out by the impossibility of living up to God’s standards that they are ready to give up. And it is for those who do not struggle in this way but want to understand and help those who do.
With fear and trembling, I offer these meditations for the weary, anxious, scrupulous, never-good-enough Christian perfectionist. I pray that through these pages, both I (writing now) and you (by God’s providence reading) will see how God has dealt bountifully with us, so that our souls can return to their rest and, in resting, bring glory to him.
To the one who seeks to love the Father but has trouble sensing his delight.
To the one who trusts in the gospel of peace but is gripped with anxiety about making mistakes.
For the one whom the Spirit indwells yet who despairs about the slowness of her sanctification.
For the one who is deeply loved beyond his wildest dreams yet rarely feels that way.
These words are for you. These words are for us.