It’s haunted me since childhood: “Be perfect,” Jesus says, “as your Father in Heaven is perfect.” For a while I tried hard, I gave it my best. If you grew up in the church I grew up in — fourth-generation Adventist, 1950s, academy chapels with blackboards and object lessons — the need for perfection carried weight.
I had been told that every idle word will be judged. Now, I talk a great deal. Anyone who knows me will confirm this without hesitation. In 75-plus years, I have said more than a few idle words. But even at 14, I knew that if I were judged for every one of them, I would be found far from perfect. It terrified me. But then I had my first glimpse of grace.
One of my teachers drew a glass on the blackboard. The glass of righteousness, she called it. She said that we fill it partway through our own effort, and then Jesus fills the rest. I felt a great relief. For the first time, I didn’t have to fill the whole glass. It sounded reasonable. But it was still wrong.
Only later did I come to realize that it’s all Jesus. Without him, I can do nothing. That’s not false modesty — it’s the condition of the human situation. And the perfectionism I was taught, however well-intentioned, quietly made that impossible to believe.
Another teaching that haunted me, and a lot of Adventists: that a single unconfessed sin would make it impossible to survive the time of trouble. I couldn’t remember every sin. As I grew in experience and in a knowledge of myself, I realized that I do not know every time I sin. Some sins I commit without awareness. If I must compile a complete list over 76 years and confess each one systematically, I am finished before I start.
The source of this terrifying notion comes from an Ellen White quote that does not actually say what people think it says. What it says is that if they could remember a single unconfessed sin, it would overwhelm them. It doesn’t indicate that they don’t have any, only that they “cannot remember” one.
I believe the Holy Spirit, which leads us to recognize our sins, also protects us — extending grace by concealing their full extent and depth.
I also want to say something about Philippians 4:8 — “if there be any virtue, if there be any praise, think on these things.” We have applied that text to mean: if something is not perfect, reject it. But that is not what it says. It says if anything is worthy of praise, think on those things.
I find it deeply strange that we treat the ability to find fault as a mark of moral sophistication. We act as though it takes real discernment to criticize. But we do not live in a perfect world. Faults are everywhere. Finding them requires no special gifts whatsoever. Anyone can do it.
Ellen White puts it plainly: a legal religion can never lead souls to Christ. Fasting or prayer actuated by a self-justifying spirit is an abomination. Strong language. But it echoes the minor prophets, where God says he is fed up with sacrifices that have become a membership fee rather than a living sign of grace.
I have been in churches where people said things like, “I’ve kept the Sabbath all my life and paid my tithe —” what hangs unspoken in the air—”and now they’re giving salvation away.” My friends, thank God they are giving it away. Because it is a price none of us can pay.
As an old song says “If religion were a thing that money could buy, the rich would live and the poor would die.”
Perfectionism focuses on me — my record, my failures, my list of sins, my spiritual performance review. That is a crushing weight. And it is aimed at the wrong target.
There is another kind of perfection. But to get there, we have to answer a prior question: why didn’t God simply make us incapable of failing in the first place?
If you’d like Ed to speak at your church, contact him at
BibleJourneys@Yahoomail.com
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