Perfection costs everything

I hate what we have done to “Be ye perfect.” I say “we” because I once did too.

Twenty years ago, I was in line at Produce Junction mentally rehearsing an unfinished letter sitting on my desk at home. Suddenly I heard a voice in me say, “Be ye perfect.” I knew it was God because I never thought about that particular verse—and because the devil doesn’t speak like that. Also, I knew exactly what it was referring to: There was one sentence in the correspondence that had to go.

What I understood when leaving the vegetable warehouse that I didn’t understand when I walked in is that we should assume Jesus means what He says. Matthew 5:48 really does mean “Be ye perfect.” It is plain speech equivalent to a sports coach exhorting the team, “Go out and win!” Or, “Play your best game!”

First of all, “Be ye perfect” is Jesus’ summary of what He just finished instructing His disciples: Do not love only your friends. Any Tom, Dick, and Harry can do as much. Love your enemies. In other words, be perfect—as opposed to doing the bare minimum. It was as if I could hear God saying, “Andrée, your letter at home, as is, falls short of godly standards. Remove the line that lacks integrity and it will be more perfect.”

As an example of “Be ye perfect,” consider the case of this woman: For years she has despised her husband, and not entirely without cause. But she is a Christian, and at some point God convicts her. After all, if we are to love our enemies, we are certainly obliged to love our spouses, the persons to whom we once made vows.

So the woman sincerely confesses her sin to God, asks for His grace, and resolves to put off sarcasm and that infernal “silent treatment.” She even starts kissing him goodbye before leaving the house and upon entering.

She thinks she is done. She thinks she has obeyed the Lord. And there is no denying that the new normal is an improvement. Today she is a woman with a cleaner mouth and more kindly demeanor.

And she is also a woman who doles out just enough marital affection to keep her husband from emotional beriberi but not enough for him to thrive. You see, she still doesn’t want him to get the idea she is thrilled with their marriage. So she operates in a carefully calibrated civility that stops short of enthusiasm. (Am I speaking to anybody?)

What’s wrong with this picture? Well, what’s wrong is that the woman has not obeyed “Be ye perfect.” She is still hardening her heart against the radical calling of God. She has brought down His commands to her level rather than raising her level of obedience to His commands. She has decided to go “this far and no further.” She is still in rebellion.

If the woman chooses to remain at the level of obedience she has stopped at, she may well get to heaven when she dies (who knows) but dragging wood, hay, and stubble, when she could have carried gold. For “the friendship of the Lord is for those who fear him” (Psalm 25:14).

If, on the other hand, the woman really loves Jesus and wants to have more of Him—more knowledge, more intimacy, more growth—there is a price. She must not just go partway but all the way in her obedience. “Be ye perfect,” says Jesus.

In both Old and New Testaments comes this solemn exhortation: “Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts” (Psalm 95:7–11; Hebrews 3:15). The Spirit is always speaking in our hearts, but we can muffle His voice by our constant brushing it aside, as I would have done had I not driven straight home and crossed out the offending sentence in my letter.

The Apostle Paul also warns against halfway Christian living when he rebukes, in sadness, as follows: “But I, brothers, could not address you as spiritual people, but as people of the flesh, as infants in Christ. I fed you with milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for it. And even now you are not ready, for you are still of the flesh” (1 Corinthians 3:1–3).

“Be ye perfect” is another way of Jesus saying, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind and all your strength.”

Or as Dietrich Bonhoeffer put it, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” He bids him crucify the flesh. He knows that it will hurt like nothing you have ever felt before. How does He know? Because He also crucified His flesh.