The Problem With ‘Never Be Perfect’

The other day, Teresa and I were talking with friends about marriage and family life. At one point, someone shrugged and said, “Well, you know, I keep trying to do better, but I’ll never be perfect.”

That phrase lodged itself in my mind like a popcorn kernel in a molar. Not perfect. Never perfect. It sounds virtuous, but it often isn’t. Sometimes it’s resignation—like walking off the field before the game begins. Other times it’s just a clever growth-avoidance strategy: lowering expectations in the name of humility. A disarming way of saying, Don’t expect me to change too much.

But here’s the real problem: “not perfect” isn’t just a tough game—it’s the wrong game. We’ve been taught to chase it as if it were the prize, when in reality it’s a rigged game. No one wins. No one even gets close. And while we’re busy playing it, we miss the real game entirely: becoming healthy.

And by healthy, I don’t just mean the absence of illness or a good workout routine. I mean a whole-person kind of health—the kind that makes life sustainable. Physical, yes, but also mental, relational, and spiritual. A health that gives you the strength to bend without breaking, to fail without collapsing, and to grow without needing to get it “perfect.”

I say this as a recovering perfectionist. For years, I thought the finish line was getting it all right—the perfect body, the perfect project, the perfect faith, the perfect argument. But here’s what research shows: perfectionism isn’t a high standard; it’s a moving target. One you can never hit—and one that has nothing to do with living life well.

Psychologists Thomas Curran and Andrew Hill analyzed over 40,000 people across three decades and found that perfectionism has been rising steadily, especially in younger generations. The result isn’t excellence. It’s anxiety, depression, and burnout. Perfectionists aren’t thriving. They’re suffering.

I’ve lived that pattern myself. Not long ago, my son Gabriel wrote me a letter encouraging me to take better care of myself—eat well, move more, add resistance training. And my reflex? To turn it into another perfection project. I went searching for the perfect workout plan, the perfect timing, the perfect way to do it all.

But that was just the wrong game showing up in disguise. Gabriel wasn’t asking me to aim for flawless. He was inviting me to change the frame entirely—from chasing perfect to pursuing health. Not for vanity’s sake, but so I could bring a healthier self to my kids, my grandkids, and the people I love and serve.

The problem with perfection is that it leaves no space for growth. It convinces us that if we’re not flawless, we’re failures. And because perfection is unattainable, it becomes the ultimate excuse for inaction. It’s like playing chess on the wrong game board—no matter how hard you study the moves, the rules don’t apply, and checkmate never comes.

Which is why we need a different game altogether. And that game—the one actually worth playing—is the pursuit of health.

The real test of health isn’t how rarely you fall, but how well you recover. It’s not measured in six-pack abs or flawless meditation streaks. Real health is found in the habits of renewal—in body, mind, relationships, and spirit—that help you rise again after a setback. Healthy people still get sick, still argue, still fall short. But they repair. They restore. They return stronger.

I’ve seen this in my own life. When I stopped treating my health like a perfection project, the rules changed. Missing a workout or eating the wrong thing wasn’t failure anymore—it was feedback. Instead of obsessing over the perfect plan, I started paying attention to the small practices that actually made me stronger and more present.

And the same is true relationally. Healthy relationships aren’t perfect. They rupture. But they also repair. They adapt to new seasons, they weather conflict, they grow.

That’s the beauty of health: it makes room for mistakes without making them fatal. It bends, flexes, and bounces back. It’s not a destination you arrive at—it’s a game you keep playing. And the prize isn’t flawless performance, but sustainable growth for yourself and for the people you love.

When we let go of perfect, we stop chasing an illusion. When we aim for health—whole-person health—we start building a life that can actually sustain itself.

Anne Lamott once wrote that “perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor.” She’s right. It keeps us shackled—always rehearsing, never performing. Health, on the other hand, is the voice of possibility. It says: change the game, reset the scorecard, play by rules that make you stronger and more fully human.

And here’s the deeper truth: real health isn’t just about your own recovery—it’s about creating capacity. It’s what lets you love longer, serve better, and show up with resilience not just once, but again and again. Perfect is brittle. Health is durable. It’s what makes life not only livable, but meaningful.

The invitation isn’t to arrive at perfection, but to stay on the path of becoming—to be people who repair, realign, and keep moving toward health. For ourselves. For our work. For the people who matter most.

The next time someone hands you an affirmation, remember: it’s more than words. It’s an invitation for connection—toward others, and within yourself. Let it hold your weight.

Until next week,

Jonathan Penner | Co-Founder & Executive Director of LifeApp

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