When I was a little girl, my grandmother and great-aunts taught me to quilt. I loved stitching together carefully cut scraps of colorful fabric with their guidance. However, if I thought my row of stitches wasn’t straight enough, I would stitch a second, neater row alongside the first. My aunt quickly identified my misstep and my desire to make it better. I wanted it to be perfect.

That desire for perfection followed me through life. I played softball from the fifth grade through high school but didn’t enjoy it nearly as much if the temperature was too hot or the ground too muddy. I wanted the conditions to be just right.

I envy women who can claim the title of “reformed perfectionist” because, try as I might, I can’t seem to kick the habit. It seems I didn’t stumble into this mindset as an adult — it’s been there all along. Perfectionism has been woven into the fabric of my life. But God, in His grace, continually invites me to let go of control, embrace imperfection, and trust Him instead.

One of the most tangible lessons in this came under a looming photo deadline for my book It All Began in a Garden. With fifty chapters requiring fifty unique photos —  plus a front cover — I set out to capture perfect images. The book is about essential oils and the plants, trees, herbs, shrubs, fruit, and flowers that make them, so I  photographed outdoor plant material from Georgia to Utah, purchased specimens from local nurseries, and even ordered from Etsy.

With each photo I checked off my shot list, the challenge of capturing fresh, creative angles grew. I kept a few fragile plants in water in our refrigerator and took clippings from our yard. But the lighting was unpredictable, and plants would wilt before I could get the perfect shot.

My perfectionist’s heart was distressed.

For the indoor shots, I turned our dining room into a makeshift studio. One afternoon, after arranging and rearranging the book cover display, adjusting little bottles by millimeters, and shooting the setup from every possible angle, I thought I had it — my perfect cover photo.

But when I imported the RAW files onto my computer, my heart sank. The natural light had faded too much, leaving the image dull and lacking the vibrancy I envisioned. The prospect of trying to keep the little rose perky in the fridge another day; clipping more oregano, spearmint, rosemary, and lavender; and creating another curvy, curling piece of lemon peel felt overwhelming. My creative high was about to crash and burn.

Then I remembered — this book had been covered in prayer from the very beginning. God had given me the idea, and I had to trust He would see me through to completion. I sat down with that photo and carefully edited it, step by step, until what once looked lifeless transformed into what a friend later called “an author’s dream cover.”

That experience — and many others — remind me of the words God spoke to the prophet Jeremiah: “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand …” (Jeremiah 18:6 NIV). My striving for perfection is like a lump of clay resisting the Potter’s hands. Yet God, in His love, keeps molding me, not into an image of perfection, but into a vessel for His glory.

Working with less-than-ideal circumstances reminds us that God is there to mold us and fill our gaps.

Last summer, an accident led to surgery on my right arm. Recovery has been slow and I don’t know if my arm will ever be the same. But out of necessity, I’ve learned to be more comfortable with imperfection. Surprisingly, that mindset extended to areas beyond my physical abilities.

I’ve invited others into my creative process — beta readers for my first novel, a professional editor to critique my early pages, and writing peers to give honest feedback. It’s vulnerable, but if I avoid criticism out of fear of imperfection, I’ll miss out on the growth that comes from refining my work.

For so long, perfectionism held me back, making me afraid to try new things, to risk looking foolish. But lately, I’ve been stepping forward — attending online writing workshops, asking questions even when I feel tongue-tied, and volunteering examples from my work. Each time I push past the fear of not being “good enough,” I see God’s grace meeting me in the process.

If I’ve learned anything, it’s this: God never called us to be perfect — He calls us to be faithful. He asks us to trust Him with our weaknesses, to bring Him our best effort, and let Him do the rest. In Him is where we find freedom.

Our fruitless attempts to pursue perfection often hold us back or distract us from what’s good and possible.

So, dear friend, are you a recovered perfectionist or still trying to break free from its grip? What would it look like to surrender your perfectionism to God today? He isn’t waiting for you to be flawless — He’s simply asking you to be willing. And that is more than enough.

Listen to Dawn’s devotion below or wherever you stream podcasts.

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