Surrendering to Perfection Before Striving for It

 

In the bustling rhythm of modern Christian life, where podcasts promise “next-level faith,” conferences hype breakthrough moments, and social media scrolls with filtered testimonies of victory, a quiet paradox whispers through the pages of Scripture. We are commanded to pursue holiness with relentless intensity, yet the very pursuit begins not in our grasping but in our release. The spiritual life is not a ladder we climb by raw effort but a race we run only after we have first collapsed at the feet of the One who has already run it perfectly. This is the heartbeat of surrender to perfection before striving for perfection, a truth that pulses through two pivotal passages: Philippians 3:12-14 and Matthew 5:48. 

Here, the Apostle Paul models raw humility in the face of unfinished sanctification, while Jesus issues the divine summons to reflect the Father’s flawless character. Together, these verses dismantle both smug self-sufficiency and paralyzing perfectionism. They invite us into a Gospel rhythm: first, we surrender to the reality that we have not arrived (and never will in this life by our own power), embracing the perfection that is already ours in Christ; only then do we press on with holy abandon. To exegete these texts using the English Standard Version, while examining the original Greek, is to discover that true maturity is born not from frantic striving but from yielded trust. Let us linger here, word by word, phrase by phrase, and allow the Spirit to reorient our souls.

The Humble Confession of an Apostle in Philippians 3:12-14 (ESV)

Paul writes from prison, his body scarred by beatings, shipwrecks, and sleepless nights, yet his spirit ablaze. The immediate context is his passionate renunciation of any confidence in the flesh (Philippians 3:3-11). He has counted all as loss for the surpassing worth of knowing Christ, even sharing in His sufferings and pressing toward the resurrection. Now he pivots to the future of his relationship with Jesus Christ, refusing to rest on past laurels or pretend he has crossed the finish line. The ESV renders it with crystalline precision:

“Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”

The opening negation, “Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect”, is a masterclass in spiritual realism. In the original Greek, it begins οὐχ ὅτι ἤδη ἔλαβον ἢ ἤδη τετελείωμαι. The verb ἔλαβον (from λαμβάνω) carries the sense of “to receive” or “to take hold of” something as one’s own possession, often with the nuance of grasping a prize. Paul insists he has not yet seized the full reality of resurrection power and conformity to Christ that he described in verses 10-11. Even more striking is τετελείωμαι, the perfect passive indicative of τελειόω. This verb, rooted in τέλος (end, goal, completion), speaks of being brought to full maturity, consummated, or perfected in every part. In classical Greek, it described the completion of a task or the initiation of a priest into sacred service; in the New Testament, it often denotes the finishing work of God in a believer’s life (see Hebrews 2:10; 5:9). Paul uses the perfect tense to emphasize a state of completion that he has not yet entered. He is not claiming sinless flawlessness or static arrival. As one commentator notes, there is no perfectionism in Paul, no cultivated image of constant triumph that many leaders unfortunately project today. 

This confession bursts the windbags of spiritual arrogance. Imagine a seasoned minister reading the biography of Robert Murray M’Cheyne or David Brainerd and feeling the sting: where is my zeal, my holiness, my utter abandonment? Paul’s words echo the wisdom of George Müller: “Just as a little child is a perfect human being, but still is far from perfect in all his development as man, so the true child of God is also perfect in all parts, although not yet perfect in all the stages of his development in faith.” The work of Christ for us is finished; the work of the Holy Spirit in us is ongoing. Spurgeon captured it beautifully: “While the work of Christ for us is perfect, and it would be presumption to think of adding to it, the work of the Holy Spirit in us is not perfect; it is continually carried on from day to day, and will need to be continued throughout the whole of our lives.” 

Here is the first movement of surrender: we must release the illusion of having “already obtained” or “already perfected.” In a culture obsessed with personal branding and spiritual metrics, likes, downloads, and conference invitations, this verse is a mercy. It frees leaders from the exhausting performance of projected perfection and invites every believer into honest vulnerability. Edge case: What if past victories tempt us to coast? Paul’s οὐχ ὅτι dismantles that. What if failures paralyze us? The same confession reminds us that even the apostle had not arrived. Surrender here is not defeat but the doorway to authentic striving.

“But I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own.” The Greek διώκω δὲ is vivid: διώκω, the same verb Paul used in verse 6 for his former persecution of the Church, now redirected toward holy pursuit. It evokes a hunter relentlessly tracking prey or an athlete sprinting in the stadium. No passive drifting; this is an active, forward-leaning effort. Yet notice the beautiful reciprocity: Paul presses on εἰ καὶ καταλάβω ἐφ’ ᾧ καὶ κατελήμφθην ὑπὸ Χριστοῦ Ἰησοῦ. The verb καταλαμβάνω (to seize, to lay hold of, to apprehend) appears twice, once in the aorist subjunctive καταλάβω (that I may lay hold) and once in the aorist passive κατελήμφθην (I was laid hold of). The prefixed preposition κατά intensifies the action, suggesting not merely catching but grasping firmly and pulling down, like a wrestler pinning an opponent. Wuest’s insight is powerful: Paul wants to “catch hold of it and pull it down… like a football player who not only wants to catch his man, but wants to pull him down and make him his own.” 

Christ’s prior laying hold of Paul on the Damascus road was no gentle tap; it was a sovereign seizure that turned a persecutor into an apostle. Why did Jesus lay hold? To make him a new man (Romans 6:4), to conform him to the image of the Son (Romans 8:29), to make him a witness and instrument of conversion (Acts 9:15), to bring him into suffering (Acts 9:16), and ultimately to the resurrection (Philippians 3:11). Surrender means recognizing that our striving is always a response to His initiative. We do not press on in our flesh but in the grip of grace. This is child-like faith meeting mature resolve: the toddler who reaches because the parent has first lifted her. Nuance: Passivity masquerading as trust (“Jesus has me; I’m good”) is exposed as counterfeit. True surrender fuels holy aggression.

“Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead.” The Greek λογίζομαι here is accounting language; Paul does not “reckon” or calculate himself as having attained. ἓν δέ (but one thing) signals laser focus. Forgetting (ἐπιλανθανόμενος, present middle participle of ἐπιλανθάνομαι) is not amnesia, but a deliberate refusal to let past successes or failures define the present. Straining forward (ἐπεκτεινόμενος, from ἐπεκτείνω) pictures a runner stretching every muscle toward the tape, neck extended, body fully committed. This is no casual jog; it is all-out exertion. 

Paul illustrates with the ancient coinage of Spain: once inscribed *Ne Plus Ultra* (“nothing further”), it became *Plus Ultra* (“more beyond”) after the discovery of the New World. Some Christians live with “nothing further” etched on their hearts, resting in past revivals or early conversions. Paul chooses “more beyond.” He had put his hand to the plow and refused to look back (Luke 9:62). The deception of living in the past (guilt, nostalgia) or future (anxiety, fantasy) robs the present, where eternity intersects now. A race is won stride by stride, breath by breath.

“I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Again διώκω κατὰ σκοπὸν, pursuing straight toward the σκοπός (goal, mark). The βραβεῖον (prize) is not merely heaven’s perks but the upward call itself: κλήσεως ἄνω, the heavenly summons emanating from God’s heart, worthy of God, summoning us where Christ sits at the right hand (Meyer). Clarke captures the intensity: “every muscle and nerve is exerted… running for life, and running for his life.” Crucially, this call is ἐν Χριστῷ Ἰησοῦ, only in Christ. Legalists might claim an upward call by fleshly effort; Paul knows it flows from union with the crucified and risen Lord. 

In this passage, we see the full arc: surrender to the imperfection of our current state (οὐχ ὅτι… τετελείωμαι) births surrendered striving (διώκω… καταλάβω). Paul’s maturity is not the absence of struggle but the presence of single-minded pursuit rooted in Christ’s prior grasp.

The Divine Standard and the Human Impossibility

In Matthew 5:48, Jesus concludes the antitheses of the Sermon on the Mount with a command that shatters every self-righteous illusion: “You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” The Greek is Ἔσεσθε οὖν ὑμεῖς τέλειοι ὡς ὁ πατὴρ ὑμῶν ὁ οὐράνιος τέλειός ἐστιν. τέλειοι is the nominative plural of τέλειος, an adjective derived from τέλος (end, goal). In classical and Koine Greek, it denotes completeness, maturity, wholeness, or that which has reached its intended purpose, not sinless flawlessness in every moment, but moral and relational integrity that mirrors the Father’s character. God is τέλειος in His undivided love, perfect justice, and unwavering faithfulness. Jesus commands us to reflect that wholeness: no hatred (5:21-26), no lust (5:27-30), no deceitful oaths (5:33-37), no retaliation (5:38-42), and love even for enemies (5:43-47). 

If anyone could live this chapter perfectly, they would possess a righteousness exceeding the scribes and Pharisees (Matthew 5:20) and enter the kingdom. Yet only one Man has: Jesus Christ. The verse is not primarily a checklist for daily Christian ethics, though it is that, but a mirror exposing our need for righteousness apart from the law (Romans 3:21-22). Carson observes that the law always pointed toward “all the perfection of God.” Jesus is not softening the standard; He is heightening it to drive us to grace. The purpose of the commandment is love from a pure heart (1 Timothy 1:5). We are left guilty, unable to self-justify, precisely so that we cast ourselves on the perfect One.

Here surrender meets the summit. The call to τέλειος is impossible in the flesh, yet it is our destiny in Christ. We surrender to the Father’s perfection first, acknowledging our shortfall, then strive by the Spirit to grow into it. Nuances abound: τέλειος is not static arrival but progressive maturity (James 3:2 links it to not stumbling in speech). Edge cases include the perfectionist who collapses under self-imposed standards (missing grace) and the antinomian who dismisses the command as “Old Testament” (missing holiness). Implications for today: in polarized Churches, loving enemies becomes the test of τέλειος. In anxious parenting or leadership, refusing to grasp control mirrors the Father’s perfect trust.

Synthesizing the Two: Surrender First, Then Strive

The genius of these passages lies in their interplay. Philippians 3:12-14 shows surrender in action: Paul’s honest “not already perfect” (οὐχ ὅτι ἤδη τετελείωμαι) prevents striving from becoming self-reliant drudgery. Matthew 5:48 supplies the target: τέλειοι as the Father is τέλειος. We surrender to Christ’s finished work and ongoing grip (κατελήμφθην), then press on (διώκω) toward the goal. This order guards against burnout and complacency alike. 

Practically, surrender looks like a daily confession: “Lord, I have not attained; yet You have attained me.” It births prayerful dependence before ambitious goals. Consider historical examples: Whitfield’s zeal flowed from yieldedness; Herbert’s devoutness from resting in Christ’s perfection. In our age of hustle culture, this rhythm restores joy. Edge case for leaders: the temptation to project “already perfected” erodes authenticity; Paul’s model invites transparency that actually magnifies grace. For the wounded: forgetting what lies behind is not denial but redirection, trauma yields to the upward call. 

Implications ripple outward. Marriages thrive when spouses surrender imperfections before striving for oneness. Churches grow when members release performance for pursuit. Missions advance when workers rest in Christ’s grasp before laboring. Theologically, this upholds sola gratia: perfection is a gift before it is a goal. 

Ultimately, the prize is the call itself, the privilege of running with God as a partner in His kingdom. May we, like Paul, forget the behind, strain toward the ahead, and in yielded pursuit reflect the Father’s perfect love. Surrender today. Strive tomorrow, and every tomorrow thereafter, in the power of the One who has already made you His own. 

You Can’t Be Perfect, Can You?

As followers of Christ, we've all wrestled with the seemingly impossible command from Jesus in Matthew 5:48: "You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect" (ESV). On the surface, this verse feels like an unattainable standard, especially when we consider our daily struggles with sin. We mess up, sometimes unintentionally, sometimes willfully, and wonder how we could ever measure up to divine perfection. Yet, the Bible doesn't leave us in despair. By diving into Numbers 15:27-31 and connecting it to Jesus' words, we uncover a profound truth: God knows our frailty, provides grace for our failings, and calls us to a perfection rooted in faith, obedience, and reliance on Him.

In this post, we'll explore these passages from an evangelical perspective, emphasizing that salvation comes by grace through faith in Christ alone (Ephesians 2:8-9). We'll exegete key words and phrases from the original Hebrew and Greek languages, using the English Standard Version (ESV) for our translations. Drawing from Biblical scholarship, we will see how unintentional sins are forgiven through atonement, while defiant sins bring severe consequences. Ultimately, we'll discover that true perfection isn't about flawless performance but about wholeness in Christ, where His righteousness covers our imperfections.

The Context of Imperfection: Human Sin in the Old Testament

To understand Jesus' call to perfection, we must first grapple with the reality of sin as outlined in the Torah. Numbers 15:27-31 provides a crucial framework for distinguishing between types of sin, showing God's mercy toward the repentant and His justice toward the rebellious.

Let's read the passage in the ESV:

"If one person sins unintentionally, he shall offer a female goat a year old for a sin offering. And the priest shall make atonement before the LORD for the person who makes a mistake, when he sins unintentionally, to make atonement for him, and he shall be forgiven. You shall have one law for him who does anything unintentionally, for him who is native among the people of Israel and for the stranger who sojourns among them. But the person who does anything with a high hand, whether he is native or a sojourner, reviles the LORD, and that person shall be cut off from among his people. Because he has despised the word of the LORD and has broken his commandment, that person shall be utterly cut off; his iniquity shall be on him" (Numbers 15:27-31).

This text follows a broader discussion in Numbers 15:22-26 about communal unintentional sins, emphasizing that even accidental transgressions require atonement. The key Hebrew words here reveal God's heart for restoration.

Exegeting "Unintentionally" (Shgagah)

The word translated "unintentionally" in the ESV is shgagah (שְׁגָגָה) in Hebrew, derived from the root shagah (שָׁגָה), meaning "to go astray," "to err," or "to wander unintentionally." This isn't mere ignorance; it's a mistake made without deliberate intent, like wandering off a path in the dark. In the Septuagint (the Greek translation of the Old Testament), it's often rendered as akousiōs (ἀκουσίως), meaning "unwillingly" or "involuntarily."

Biblically, shgagah acknowledges human weakness. We all commit acts we know we shouldn't do, like reacting in anger on the highway or harboring resentment. These aren't premeditated rebellions but lapses in our fallen nature. The Torah prescribes a sin offering, a female goat, to make atonement (kaphar, כָּפַר, meaning "to cover" or "to appease"). This foreshadows Christ's ultimate sacrifice, where His blood covers our sins (Hebrews 9:22).

Importantly, this law applies equally to Israelites and sojourners (foreigners living among them), underscoring God's impartial grace. No one is exempt from sin's reach, but forgiveness is available through repentance and sacrifice. As evangelicals, we see this as a type of the gospel: our unintentional sins—those slips in thought, word, or deed are forgiven not by animal blood but by the Lamb of God (John 1:29).

Exegeting "With a High Hand" (Yad Ramah)

In stark contrast, verse 30 introduces presumptuous sin: "the person who does anything with a high hand" (yad ramah, יָד רָמָה). Yad means "hand," and ramah means "high" or "exalted," evoking an image of a defiant fist raised against God. This phrase implies deliberate, arrogant rebellion, sin committed "presumptuously" or "defiantly," as if shaking one's fist at heaven.

In Hebrew, ramah carries connotations of pride and elevation, often negatively (e.g., Psalm 18:27 warns against the haughty). The Septuagint translates it as hybris (ὕβρις), meaning "insolence" or "wanton violence." Such sin "reviles the LORD" (gadaph, גָּדַף, "to blaspheme" or "to scorn") and despises His word, leading to being "cut off" (karath, כָּרַת, "to excise" or "to destroy").

This isn't a minor infraction; it's willful rejection of God's authority, like the man gathering sticks on the Sabbath in Numbers 15:32-36, who is stoned for his defiance. As the commentary provided notes, "many of the worst sins are committed with the best of intentions," but high-handed sin flaunts morality. In evangelical theology, this warns against apostasy, deliberately turning from Christ after knowing the truth (Hebrews 6:4-6, as discussed in the transcript).

Yet, even here, there's hope. While the Old Testament demands excision to preserve community holiness, the New Testament reveals Christ's power to redeem even the rebellious through genuine repentance (e.g., Paul's transformation from persecutor to apostle, Acts 9).

The Call to Perfection: Jesus' Words in Matthew 5:48

Now, let's bridge to the New Testament. In Matthew 5:48, Jesus concludes His teaching on love for enemies: "You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect" (ESV). This verse crowns the Sermon on the Mount, where Jesus intensifies the Law's demands (e.g., anger equals murder, lust equals adultery).

Exegeting "Perfect" (Teleios)

The Greek word for "perfect" is teleios (τέλειος), meaning "complete," "mature," "whole," or "fully developed." It's not about moral flawlessness (which no human achieves, Romans 3:23) but wholeness and maturity. Teleios derives from telos (τέλος), "end" or "goal," implying reaching full potential.

Jesus echoes Deuteronomy 18:13: "You shall be blameless (tamim, תָּמִים) with the LORD your God" (ESV). Tamim in Hebrew means "blameless," "complete," or "without defect," often used for sacrificial animals (Exodus 12:5: "Your lamb shall be without blemish [tamim]"). In the Septuagint, tamim is translated teleios, linking the passages.

Tamim isn't absolute perfection but contextual wholeness. Genesis 6:9 calls Noah "blameless [tamim] in his generation," not sinless (he later gets drunk, Genesis 9:21), but upright amid corruption. Similarly, Abraham is told, "walk before me, and be blameless [tamim]" (Genesis 17:1), emphasizing integrity, not impeccability.

In Matthew's context (5:43-48), perfection means loving impartially, like God who sends rain on just and unjust. It's maturity in love, going beyond tax collectors (mafia-like extortionists) who love only allies. As evangelicals, we see this as sanctification: the Holy Spirit maturing us toward Christ's likeness (Romans 8:29), not instant sinlessness.

Connecting Numbers 15 and Matthew 5: The Tension Resolved in Christ

The tension, "You can't be perfect, can you?"—resolves in the Gospel. Numbers 15 shows God distinguishing sins: grace for shgagah (unintentional), judgment for yad ramah (defiant). Jesus' call to teleios/tamim perfection isn't a new burden but an invitation to wholeness through faith.

Consider Genesis 15:6: "And he [Abraham] believed the LORD, and he counted it to him as righteousness" (ESV). The Hebrew aman (אָמַן) means "to confirm" or "to be faithful," root of amunah (אֱמוּנָה, faithfulness). As Pastor Bernard highlights, Abraham's faith (amunah), trusting God's promise despite imperfections, made him righteous. Habakkuk 2:4 echoes: "the righteous shall live by his faith [amunah]" (ESV), emphasizing faithful living, not mere belief.

Paul and James build on this. Paul stresses justification by faith (Romans 4:3-5), James adds that works prove faith (James 2:21-24). They're complementary: faith saves, works evidence it. In evangelical terms, we're declared righteous by Christ's blood (covering shgagah-like sins), then grow in holiness, avoiding yad ramah apostasy (Hebrews 6:4-6 warns of tasting [geuomai, γεύομαι, "to experience fully"] truth then falling away).

Leviticus commands holiness: "You shall be holy, for I the LORD your God am holy" (19:2, ESV). Qadosh (קָדוֹשׁ) means "set apart." For priests (kohen, כֹּהֵן, Aaron's descendants), it's ritual purity (Leviticus 21:6-8). Exodus 19:5-6 extends it: Israel as a "kingdom of priests" (mamleketh kohanim, מַמְלֶכֶת כֹּהֲנִים). Jesus universalizes this: believers as royal priests (1 Peter 2:9), called to teleios holiness.

Yet, we're not perfect. Ecclesiastes 7:20: "Surely there is not a righteous man on earth who does good and never sins" (ESV). Grace abounds: Christ's atonement covers unintentional sins, empowering us against willful ones.

Living Out Imperfect Perfection

We affirm total depravity, sin affects every part of us (Romans 3:10-12), but also regeneration: the Spirit enables growth. Perfection is positional (in Christ, we're seen as perfect, Colossians 2:10) and progressive (sanctification toward maturity, Philippians 3:12-14).

Avoid yad ramah: Don't presume on grace (Romans 6:1). Hebrews 2:9 says Jesus "tasted [geuomai] death for everyone," experiencing sin's full penalty so we don't have to.

Embrace tamim: Be wholehearted. Like Noah, stand blameless in your generation. Faith (amunah) reckons us righteous, as with Abraham.

In daily life:

Confess unintentional sins quickly (1 John 1:9).

Guard against defiance through Scripture, prayer, community.

Love enemies, mirroring God's perfect love.

Malachi 1:8 rebukes lame offerings: give God your best, not blemished (tamim implies integrity).

Perfection in the Perfect One

You can not be perfect on your own. But in Christ, you can. Numbers 15 reminds us of sin's categories and God's provision; Matthew 5 calls us to mature love. Through faith, we're reckoned righteous, growing toward wholeness. Trust God: He who began a good work will perfect it (Philippians 1:6).