The Bad Fruit of Perfectionism

One ordinary night while folding laundry with my husband, the man I call "Studhub" stopped folding a t-shirt long enough to look at me and say, “Christa, perfectionism is the fruit of performance, but excellence is the fruit of resting in love.  Both produce results, but there’s a difference in how you get there, babe.”

Why would that be our topic of conversation while folding laundry, you ask?  Could it possibly have something to do with the fact that I always sighed with annoyance while refolding his pile of t-shirts to make sure they met my standard?  Could it be because I always followed behind him in the bathroom after he’d cleaned, finding specs and particles to complain that he’d missed?  Could it be because this backseat driver always knew a faster way to get there, was the expert on anything I could Google, and always had a better solution to every problem we faced?  Oh, and let’s not forget, I never found it necessary to hide my frustration when he disagreed with me.  Or when I didn’t get my way.

You see, this girl valued being right over having relationship.  She valued perfection over effort.  And unfortunately at some point, this means your relationships will begin to crumble under the weight of your unattainable standard.  

My first memory of life outside of the home was sexual.  Not a great start, I might add.  So instead of looking in the mirror and seeing a beautiful little girl cherished by her mom and dad with endless roads of life ahead of her, all I could see was a dirty, shameful, unlovable blob of matter.

I longed for love that I never felt worthy of possessing.  I craved affection that I didn’t believe I deserved, even though I was privy to a family whose adoration never ceased.  So as a little girl learning the ropes of life, I did what any girl in my position would do.  I behaved according to what I believed.

I tried to earn love.

Enter, the performer.  I was first chair in orchestra, straight-A student, best athlete, president of this and chaplain of that.  The list of awards, achievements, and applause roaring in the background of my latest triumph couldn’t die down or I’d have to hear the inner demons screaming about how awful I really was.  And because my self-worth was tied to my performance, you better believe it had to be perfect.  We’re talking whip-cracking, jaw-smacking, heads-are-gonna-roll if it’s not perfect, perfect.

Now, enter Jesus.  Being a preacher’s kid and getting saved on the trampoline at age three meant that not only was I familiar with the majority of popular Scriptures, but I also had to memorize them in Bible Bowl.  I knew the truth backwards and forwards, but I didn’t believe it.   I knew, in my head, that nothing could separate me from the love of God, that His love was unconditional, and that there was no condemnation for me, but I didn’t believe it in my heart.  In fact, I believed the exact opposite to be true.  I believed I was only lovable unless:

Unless I looked perfect.
Unless I was sinless
Unless my ministry was perfect.
Unless I acted perfect.
Unless my message was perfect.
Unless my worship set was perfect.
Unless I was the first, the best, the winner, the leader.

Now, back to Studhub and his infinite wisdom while folding laundry.  If perfectionism is the fruit of performance, then I definitely had a tree full of perfect, spotless, beautiful fruit.  My tree was always productive, abundant, and successful by the world’s standards, but unfortunately, it was still bad fruit.  Why?

Because I always sacrificed relationship to produce it.

As I’ve grown as a leader, I finally realize that trying to be the best and come up with a perfect product at the expense of relationship means I’m not really a leader.  It just means I’m selfish.  The more I value production and outcome over the people’s hearts that are helping me get there, the more I’ve missed the point of the Gospel message.  These days, people are more important than a result.  The hearts of those I’m in relationship with are the goal.  My leadership eye is focusing first on the individuals God has placed within arms' reach—my husband, my son, the barista who messes up my drink at Starbucks, the girl in my signing line after a concert or event, the employee who needs a little extra grace while learning the ropes of a new job.  And in the process of focusing on hearts over an outcome, something supernatural happens.   Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control are cultivated inside the soil of my heart and begin to grow inside of the relationships of the people I lead.  

Just imagine the beautiful, productive, excellent, abundant fruit that grows from a heart that is full of the fruit of the Spirit.  There’s nothing natural about it.  It’s miraculous in nature, eternal, and brings life to anyone who sinks their teeth in to take a bite.

Believe me, when you lead by offering a daily meal of relationship, love, grace, and joy over the tasking hamster-wheel of perfectionism and production, people will lay down their lives to be a part of what you're doing.  And in relationship, they’ll follow you anywhere.