The Measuring Stick
There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear, because fear involves punishment, and the one who fears is not perfected in love. 1 John 4:18 NASB
Perfect love – We have a serious problem with perfect. Since Parmenides, our idea of perfect has been a negative concept, that is, freedom from any defect or flaw. We think of perfect in a mathematical context. The precisely correct answer, the completed whole, the set of all things that require nothing more. Parmenides employed the imagery of a sphere, so masterfully constructed that you could not distinguish its rotation. It always looked exactly the same. With this in mind, when we read teleia agape (perfect love), we immediately realize it doesn’t describe us. We are imperfect. We have flaws. We have defects, shortcomings, blind spots, and weaknesses. We believe that divine love has none of these things, and so we fall far short of the standard. When “perfect” is the measuring stick, no man measures up.
It comes as a great surprise to discover that the word “perfect” is never used of God in the Tanakh. It is even more shocking to find that the Greek term téleios doesn’t find its linguistic home among mathematicians. In fact, we need to carefully remove Parmenides from our “perfection” vocabulary. We start with this: “This adjective means ‘whole,’ ‘unblemished,’ ‘full,’ ‘perfect,’ ‘actualized,’ ‘efficacious,’ ‘mature,’ ‘supreme,’ and perhaps ‘dedicated.’”[1] You’ll notice that “perfect” is only one small part of this linguistic umbrella. But even as a small part, it doesn’t mean what Parmenides meant. Téleios “carries the sense of full humanity with an orientation to what is worthwhile and ethically good.”[2] Parmenides pushed us toward mathematics, but the Tanakh leans in the direction of wholeness or completion.
So, you’ll ask, “Well, what’s the difference? If something is whole and complete, it doesn’t have flaws. It’s perfect.” But notice this subtle but crucial distinction. What is complete today might change tomorrow. Today I am whole. My life is integrated. But tomorrow something might happen (and usually does) that disrupts that integration. In Parmenides’ view, perfection means immutable. Something perfect cannot change. It’s forever. “Perfect” in the Greek philosophical sense of the word is an eternal, permanent, unchanging condition. If that’s what John intends, we are doomed. But “wholeness” is a temporal state, subject to change. If John means that completed love in this moment drives out fear, then we qualify. In other words, we can’t wholly love God and still be afraid. Why? Because God is sovereign. He’s in control. And He loves us. That doesn’t mean we have to force our fears out the door in order to love completely. What we have to do is admit we are afraid—and then recognize that God knows this and He still cares for us. It isn’t ourcompleted love that wipes away the fear. It’s recognizing His completed love.
Do we have to be “perfect” to experience God’s protection? Absolutely not! That is, frankly, impossible in the Parmenidean sense of the word. Can we be whole-hearted and still have flaws? Of course. In fact, that’s what it means to be human—to be completely, imperfectly dedicated.
“Vulnerability is not weakness, and the uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure we face every day are not optional. Our only choice is a question of engagement. Our willingness to own and engage with our vulnerability determines the depth of our courage and the clarity of our purpose; the level to which we protect ourselves from being vulnerable is a measure of our fear and disconnection.”[3]
Topical Index: perfect, fear, téleios, Parmenides, whole-hearted, 1 John 4:18
[1] Kittel, G., Friedrich, G., & Bromiley, G. W. (1985). Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, Abridged in One Volume (p. 1164). Grand Rapids, MI: W.B. Eerdmans.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Brené Brown, Daring Greatly, p. 2.
Nothing like stubbing the same toe on the same corner one more time! Vulnerability is one of the most frightening aspects of humanity. Do I choose to be fully human by being completely honest in a way that exposes myself or do I self protect out of instinct and only look human? It is a choice to become honest not only with others but with myself. It presupposes pain and sacrificial giving and a host of other things that do not come naturally and it is HARD. Not always succeeding, but in process.
Well, you’re not alone. I struggle with this every day, especially with a large audience of people I don’t know really well. There are some I can be vulnerable with and others who, frankly, I haven’t learned to trust. It’s such a human dilemma. Maybe that’s why I have a therapist.