In Pursuit of Perfection: Rest

This is it, folks—the final installment. The end of this five-part series has finally come, and believe me when I say I’m quite surprised it took this long to get to the bottom(ish) of the problem of perfectionism.

As I mentioned the first week, I was expecting to write one article on the humorous side of perfectionism, sharing a few anecdotes and some silly scenarios, and then move on to the more alluring subject of Indiana Jones. But God had other plans. It turns out that my pursuit of perfection is really a pursuit of approval, identity, and rest, and thinking through those truths has taken more time than expected. But I’m glad God has taken me on this journey, and this week I’m excited to share what He’s shown me through my quest for rest.

A Familiar Problem

When I read the Bible, I’m often tempted to look down my nose at the Jews. They’re always sinning, forgetting, straying, and floundering. I think, “You silly people. Why can’t you just trust God for once?” Romans 9:31-32 is no exception. It says that “Israel, who pursued a law that would lead to righteousness, did not succeed in reaching that law. Why? Because they did not pursue it by faith, but as if it were based on works.” The Jews knew they needed righteousness, but they wanted to earn it themselves by perfectly keeping every nuance of the law. Fat chance, guys. Everyone knows you can’t earn righteousness like that. When it comes to achieving moral perfection, there’s no such thing as “good enough.”

But just about the time I’m enjoying a good scoff at the Jews’ expense, God taps me on the shoulder and directs my attention to another silly person who’s trying to achieve the “good enough” status on her own. Like Scrooge being shown his past, present, and future, I see how my own habits of perfectionism will end up much uglier than I intended. What a cheery thought this Christmas season!

Just Like the Jews

So as much as I’d like to roll my eyes in derision at the Jews, I need to realize that we’re more similar than I’d like to think. For example, my quest to earn rest is equivalent to the Jews’ quest to earn righteousness because we’re both seeking perfection. Allow me to explain: for the Jews, perfection meant keeping oodles of laws (many of them self-inflicted) so that they could rest in their own righteousness. For me, perfection means finishing my oodles of tasks (many of them self-inflicted) so I can rest in my own accomplishments. And for both of us, we truly believe that we will enjoy that rest…but not quite yet.

See, in my experience, the drive to complete just one more task is insatiable. There’s always a carrot dangling at the end of my to-do list, but I know quite well that I’m unlikely to bite into it any time soon. I tell myself that I’ll rest after this one last teensy-tinsey task, but you know the routine: as I’m working on the teensy-tinsey task, I remember about four other things I needed to do, so I scramble around between them until I’m out of time. I haven’t even completed the original task, and resting is out of the question.

Reinventing the Wheel

Even thinking about this habit makes me tired. But the ironic part is that I’m doing it in pursuit of eventual rest. I like rest! I really do! I just don’t seem to be able to achieve it on my own. I’m driven onward by some inner compulsion to do more and be better. I feel that rest is something I have to earn. And in a sense, it is wise to work first and rest later, but if “later” never comes, then life can get pretty sad and exhausting.

Once again, I find myself in a situation similar to the Jews. Romans 10:3 say, “Being ignorant of the righteousness of God, and seeking to establish their own, they did not submit to God’s righteousness.” God was right there offering them his own righteousness, but they preferred to reinvent the wheel. Their choice wasn’t just futile; it was also arrogant and sinful. I want to be critical of them, but instead I find myself relating. I try to make my own form of righteousness by living up to my own standards. No wonder I can’t rest; that’s an unachievable (and arrogant) task!

The End of the Law

So if I’m unable to grant rest to my body, mind, and soul, then what can I do? Where can I turn? Paul answers that question in the very next verse. Romans 10:4 says that “Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to everyone who believes.” The word “end” here could mean that Christ is the purpose of the law and also the fulfillment or completion of the law, and both of those are great news! For those of us looking for rest in all the wrong places, God gently lifts our eyes from our law-keeping up to Jesus, the end of the law.

We are no longer under obligation to keep the whole law perfectly. We never were, in fact. As Galatians 3:24-25 tells us, the purpose of the law was to point us to our need of a Savior. That’s why there’s no rest for the perfectionist; we’re not built to attain perfection on our own. The more we try to keep the whole law perfectly, the more we realize our own sin. The more we struggle against lethargy and entropy, the more we realize our limitations. Because we could never meet the standard of perfection on our own—from the law or our own expectations—Jesus lived and died perfectly in our place. Christ became the end of the law. Hallelujah!

Rest At Last

So Christ fulfills the law, offering us righteousness in exchange for nothing but mere belief. Our most impressive efforts don’t sweeten the deal for him one bit. Should we still strive to obey God’s law and use our gifts to love him and serve others? Absolutely! But our whole purpose and method will be different. Rather than working until we’ve reached the elusive finish line labeled “good enough,” we can serve and obey in the strength that God provides, and then we can rest.

For me and, I suspect, for you, that’s easier said than done. But the good news is that Christ has compassion on those who have reached the end of themselves. In Matthew 11 Christ offers exactly what we’ve been longing for: rest not just for our bodies but for our souls. He starts by condemning those in the crowd who had seen his miracles but still refused to repent from their obsession with perfect law-keeping. Then he turns his focus to those who are ready for a better way. “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden,” he says, “and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” [Matt. 11:28-29].

A Better Yoke

Do you resonate with the description “all who labor and are heavy laden?” I know I often do. To borrow Jesus’ analogy, I’m a solitary cow wearing a heavy yoke and toiling away with my plow, trying to till up perfection. No wonder I’m heavy laden! Cows aren’t supposed to plow alone. That’s why Jesus compassionately invites me into his yoke. He knows how to plow and when to rest. (Remember, God himself told us to set aside a whole day every week just for rest!)

As we become increasingly “gentle and lowly in heart,” we will find rest not only for our bodies but also for our souls. That’s what I want! The more time I spend learning from Jesus, the lighter my burden will be. The only Perfect One is plowing with me. His righteousness is mine by faith. There is nothing left for me to do but love faithfully, serve humbly, and rest.

Last Thoughts on Perfectionism

Through my study of perfectionism, God has shown me some pretty ugly parts of my character. I’d like to tweak these displays of my personality, but that would be like mowing weeds rather than pulling up the roots. What I really need is a changed heart—one that is humble enough to rejoice in the Perfect One who offers me the approval, identity, and rest that I seek. “He must increase, but I must decrease” [John 3:30].