The cursor blinked at me as I deleted the same paragraph for the fifth time. I couldn't get the words right. Just one more draft, I told myself. Just one more revision and this paper would be perfect.
How many times have we chased that elusive "perfect" - in our work, our homes, our relationships, even our faith? That standard hovering just beyond reach, promising that if we could only grasp it, everything would finally feel right.
Philippians 3:12-14 gives us a different picture: "Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."
I love how Paul - this towering figure of faith - openly admits he hasn't arrived. He hasn't reached the finish line. He's still in process, still becoming.
There's such freedom in those words.
The world tells us perfection is possible if we just try hard enough. If we follow the right system, use the right products, say the right words. But that pursuit leaves us constantly measuring the gap between what is and what "should be."
I've spent so many days trapped in that gap. Reworking the same tasks, replaying conversations in my head, thinking that if I could just get it all right, I'd finally feel at peace. Maybe you've been there too.
What Paul offers instead is the grace of unfinished work. Not a frantic scrambling toward an impossible standard, but a steady movement forward. Not perfection, but direction.
There's a different kind of beauty in this approach - the beauty of progress rather than perfection. Of growth rather than arrival.
Think about a child learning to walk. We don't expect their first steps to be perfect. We celebrate each wobbly attempt, each fall followed by getting back up again. That's how God sees us - not with critical eyes waiting for flawless performance, but with a Father's heart that delights in each imperfect step toward Him.
When we let go of perfect, we make room for grace. We learn to actually enjoy the work of our hands instead of constantly critiquing it. We open ourselves to genuine connection rather than managed impressions. We allow ourselves to be known rather than just admired.
Will we chase perfect, or will we embrace progress? Will we live under the weight of impossible expectations, or in the freedom of God's continuing work in us?
I'm trying to ask different questions these days. Not "Did I get everything right?" but "Did I love well?" Not "Was it perfect?" but "Was I present?" Not "What did others think?" but "What did God want to teach me?"
What would change in your life if you released the pursuit of perfect? What relationships might heal? What gifts might you share that you've been holding back until they're flawless? What parts of yourself might you finally accept?
God isn't waiting for us on the other side of perfect. He's walking with us through each imperfect day, each stumbling step, each fresh start.
And in His eyes, that journey together is far more valuable than any destination we might reach on our own.