Fight or float

On my struggle with perfectionism and the invitation into mercy

This may come as a surprise, but I have missed the mark of achieving my version of perfection this week… again. Obviously, I’ve responded well by analytically pressing those failures through the graceless cheesecloth of my self-righteous ideal, and then mercilessly wringing out the remaining threads. Self-flagellation gets results, right??? Please tell me I’m not the only one stuck in this cycle.

I know that striving for “perfection”— for a flawless performance that fools the audience into believing it is easy— allows no space for actual mistakes or missteps. I know that such “Perfection” deflates the surprisingly clumsy and comical bright spots in everyday life. It flattens the spontaneous interactions that allow virtue and compassion to shine in the face of human limitations. These impossibly high standards turn on the low-quality interior vacuum of shame, and I find myself rolling that useless dirt devil repeatedly over the same spot, asking with increasingly panicked exasperation, “how come this mess keeps getting worse!?”

Yes, “Perfection straineth out / the quality of mercy.”¹ More often than not, I sacrifice mercy in pursuit of perfection, straining it right out. Yet as Christ invites sinners into his fold, not the righteous, he says, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”² So don’t sacrifice the mercy, dear one; don’t strain it out. Receive it. Hold onto it. Let the “perfection” go, and deliberately offer the imperfect, the impoverished, the honest. Get comfortable screaming the transformative cry of wisdom: “God be merciful to me, a sinner!”³

Maybe imperfection itself serves up the hospitable opportunity to glory in the sheer givenness of mercy. Does that bother me? Honestly, yes. I’d like the opportunity to earn my mercy. I’d like to wrestle God and demand it like Jacob. I’d like to leave an altercation injured, exhausted, and victorious. And while wrestling is not forbidden, the invitation of Jesus calls me from a posture of struggle towards something that is far more difficult— rest and receptivity. He offers the quiet invitation to recline in total trust, like the Apostle John against the chest his truest Friend.

So lean back, O my soul. You actually don’t have to fight to stay afloat in this sea of mercy. In reality that will only hinder you. Trust the weight of water, rest in something outside of you, be upheld by it— simply float.

The Avowal by Denise Levertov As swimmers dare to lie face to the sky and water bears them, as hawks rest upon air and air sustains them, so would I learn to attain freefall, and float into Creator Spirit's deep embrace, knowing no effort earns that all-surrounding grace.

“Back Float,” by Carol O’Malia

1. From, “Perfection, perfection,” by Fr. Kilian McDonnell

2. From Matthew 9:13— emphasis mine

3. From Luke 18:13