On Letting Go


Kristin Ritzau wrote a book, a book specifically for me.  Well, she didn’t write the book for me only, but for everyone like me – Christ followers wrestling with how perfectionism fits in to their daily life.  A Beautiful Mess is a journey of freedom for all who struggle with crippling expectations and yearn for acceptance and contentment.

Kristin’s blog, is a space to share the perfectionist journey with authenticity and a full serving of grace.  Multi-media expressions of this journey are guided by a changing prompt.  This season, the prompt is Letting Go.

I’m sharing part of my own journey about letting go and forgiveness today over on A Beautiful Mess.

The Battle Royal

For fear of starting a battle royal, I will refrain from declaring myself the Queen of Perfectionism. But rest assured I have a crown large enough to encompass my Type A personality and desire to be flawless.

After many years of gazing at the reflection bouncing back at me from the polished metal of my crown, as most introspective perfectionists are apt to do, I’ve discovered that being a perfectionist is not a stand-alone job.

By default, perfectionist royalty also hold the gavel of judgment, announcing with a resounding thud whenever criteria is not met. Not only do we rule over ourselves with strict standards, but we also expect others to abide by them as well.

I may not consciously expect others to have my same standards, but I certainly judge them by my exacting code of behavior and ethics.

When perfectionism and judgment join forces, a wake of destruction is sure to follow. Pain and shame are quick to appear in the hearts of those who fall victim to critical self-evaluations and fail to meet unattainable goals.

What is a queen to do when she is finally too entangled by the evil snares of her own striving and self-deprecation? Or when she has ostracized herself from others because of a hypercritical spirit?

Read the rest of The Battle Royal here!

Infinite Grasp

My youth pastor once told me about how his wife, on the drive to her grandfather’s funeral, slammed the backs of her hands on to her thighs, palms up in desperation to have God take control.  She was letting go.

I have a hard time letting go of things.  My grasp can be pretty tight.  Its not that I just have a firm grip, I have a complicated grip on things.  I dig my fingers in deep, weaving whatever I have my mits on up to my wrists, around and around, so really it would take a knife to cut me loose.

But, what I think is an unbreakable bond between me and the object is a mere piece of twine in God’s eyes.  He’s calling me to let go, throw my palms up in surrender to His plans, His ideas, His love.

Contrary to what I think on a daily basis, my grasp does not equal control.  Grasping is my finite attempt to reach an infinite God.

He is already right in front of me and won’t ever leave.

Five Minute Friday