By Colleen Corbett

In the Bible, it says, “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.” (Matt. 5:48)
Striving for perfection sounds noble. We all want to grow. Most of us are painfully aware of our flaws and wish to improve our thoughts, our actions, and our lives.

But is perfectionism really the answer?

Years ago, my psychiatrist gave me a quote that still hangs on my refrigerator:
“Perfection is a wonderful goal but it’s a terrible standard.”

So how do we hold perfection as a goal without using it as the ruler we measure our worth against? How do we stop grading our lives by a standard no human can possibly reach?

To answer that, we first need to ask: What is perfectionism, really?

If you’re a perfectionist, you probably already know. You know the ache of never being enough. You know what it’s like to believe that anything you do, say, think, or feel—if it isn’t flawless—isn’t acceptable. It’s failure. It’s inferiority. You hold yourself to a higher standard than anyone else, and even though you know that standard is impossible, you still criticize yourself constantly for falling short.

You tell yourself you should have known better, tried harder, been stronger, felt happier, loved deeper. The list never ends.

Perfectionism means needing the perfect result—and needing to achieve it perfectly. If you hit the goal, but fumble on the way there? It doesn’t count. It’s tainted. And that thought process can absolutely boggle the mind of someone who doesn’t live inside it.

Here’s the hard truth:
Perfectionism is fear, dressed as virtue.
It fuels depression, anxiety, shame, and self-loathing. And learning to let it go takes real, conscious effort.

My journey started when I made the decision to love myself. To forgive myself. I realized how much anger and judgment I had aimed inward—because I never seemed to measure up. I hated myself. I thought there must be something wrong with me. After all, I kept failing the impossible test of perfection.

Things began to shift when I decided to treat myself with kindness. I told myself:
“I would never treat another human the way I treat myself.”

As someone who follows Jesus Christ, I reminded myself I was worthy of compassion. “Love thy neighbor as thyself” took on a whole new meaning. When I stumbled or didn’t measure up, I started stepping back instead of spiraling. I gave myself space to reflect, to learn. I chose to see mistakes as information, not indictments.

With practice, I’ve learned to see myself in a softer light. I forgive myself. I try to catch the moments when I reach for the “perfection ruler” and remind myself—it’s not a helpful tool. I focus on gratitude, look for the good, and give myself permission to let go rather than control.

Because here’s what I’ve learned:
My idea of perfection was made up.
It was built from fear, judgment, comparison, and shame.
It let me off the hook for trying—because trying meant risking failure.
It told me I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, talented enough.
It convinced me no one cared what I had to say.
And it stopped me dead in my tracks right before breakthroughs, making me believe I was standing at the edge of a chasm—when really, I was one step from success.

I didn’t realize what I was doing. I let my imagination steer me away from what I truly wanted. Until one day, a dear friend looked me in the eye and said:
“STOP IT.”

Sometimes, it really is that simple. Not always easy—but simple.
Stop believing every thought that floats through your mind.
Stop letting fear wear the costume of caution.
Stop assuming you need to look a certain way or have everything figured out before you can act.

Write the paper.
Make the call.
Talk to the person.
Take the step.

Stop getting in your own way.

Be willing to look silly. Be willing to be seen. Be willing to mess up and try again.

If you’re a perfectionist—take it from someone who has walked this road—it’s not worth it. And it’s not what God intended for you.

God didn’t design you to be flawless. He designed you to be faithful.
To grow. To love. To create.
And to do it all imperfectly.

That’s where joy lives. That’s where grace begins.

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