There is a quote from C. S. Lewis “that the doors of hell
are locked on the inside.” Leaving the particular
theology of hell aside, there is some truth to our tendency to lock ourselves
in our own torment. That’s what
perfectionism looks like for me. Like a
dictator who enforces martial law, who gathers all the resources of the state,
inflicting poverty and fear on the people, all in adherence to an unattainable
ideal.
So is perfectionism.
Only the dictator isn’t the standard of perfectionism—I am the
dictator. I am my own tyrant, imposing
an unattainable, usually contra moral, ideal.
All mental, emotional, physical, and even spiritual resources are spent
in service to this ideal, causing a poverty in a life meant to be lived in
abundance. Failure to meet the ideal is
met with internal martial law. Producing
fear in a life meant to be lived with power, love, and a sound mind.
The standard that I do not meet is my own. But what is the most insidious part of this
is my tyrannical self is convinced this standard is God’s standard. And when the pain and resentment of living
under a standard that is never met reaches a boiling point, when the anger can
no longer be internalized to correct and control behavior, it bursts out at
God.
This is very much like the older brother in the prodigal son
parable. He is infuriated at the grace
shown to his younger, irresponsible, reckless brother. This is not a normal emotional reaction—well,
perhaps normal, but not appropriate. It
is a disproportionate emotional response, and is evidence of paint caused by a
lie he is believing. He has been
stringently trying to adhere to his standard.
His brother did the exact opposite, and gets a banquet hall feast. The older brother stays away from the
celebration, sulking, and the Father comes to find him—for He loves all His
children.
How does the older brother respond to his Father seeking him? He lashes out at him, saying that he never
even got one goat to share a meal with his friends. His Father points out that he is always with
Him and all that is His is also the older son’s. But the older son obviously did not agree
with this statement. He did not agree
that he had all along had full access to the bounty of his Father’s house. Why?
He never met his own personal standard and therefore never felt worthy
of asking His Father for anything. The
older brother states that he served his Father for many years and never
disobeyed. Yet he never felt that he
belonged. He never understood his
inheritance. He never felt worthy. He defensively protests that he never
disobeyed. But it is one thing to never
commit a sin of commission, quite another to never commit a sin of
omission. He is keenly aware that his
has fallen short of his standard, and the anguish over the years has turned to
anger. He lashes out at his Father,
accusing Him of being stingy, withholding reward.
He has served his Father these many years, but does not know
his Father. He complained of never even
receiving a mere goat. When in reality,
all he had to do was ask, and he would have access to his entire
inheritance. I mean, the younger son
asked for his half of the inheritance, and the Father gave it, no questions
asked, no strings attached.
The self imposed tyranny of perfectionism draws an iron
curtain around one’s self. When I adhere
to my own standard, I am cut off from God’s free market of Grace. And the tyranny of perfectionism cannot be
overthrown by a bloodless revolution.
Blood is required. The kingdom of
God invades with violence. My tyrannical
self resists, but is overcome by the blood of Jesus, and Grace invades. The Holy Spirit renews my mind, seizing all
weapons of mass self destruction, disarming this tyrant. And for the first time, freedom is
tasted. Grace flows and rest is
entered. The righteous Lord Jesus judges
and releases me, and reconciliation and healing begin.
So join me in lifting a cry against tyranny! But know that it will require death—yours. But you will rise again with Christ. Praise be to God!
For this Lenten season I am giving up perfectionism and
posting a blog each day, Monday through Friday, from Ash Wednesday on February
13th, through Easter, on March 31st. For more information, read “What Are You Giving Up?” Jesus died for me and loves
me, and this is an exercise in remembering that. Thanks for joining me!
No comments:
Post a Comment