Perfectionism

I want.
I crave.
I yearn.
Desires burn,
Passions enslave.
I try too hard
Reach too far
Run too fast
Frantically
Frenetically
Unending pursuit
Of all I think I need
To be content.
Satisfied.
Peaceful.
Complete.

I want to be a god – 
Or at least god-like,
Exalted in others’ view,
Seen and approved 
For all I can do
And how well I 
Can do it.

Mine be the kingdom,
And power, and glory.
I must be worthy.
I need praise.
So I must achieve
Perfection.

You love me too much 
To let my self-erected 
Monuments of majesty
Stolen
Stand.
You smash the ruse
Of selfish ambition.
Demands
Broken,
Stripped of power to compel
For me what belongs to You.

Perfection
Is Yours, not mine.
You alone are worthy of praise.
The glory and power
And kingdom are yours.

You perform perfectly
All that You do
And nothing is too hard for You.
You are pleased by Your works
And Your creation’s
Right response of praise,
Because You alone are God.

I am complete,
            not because I fill myself
            with praise of men,
            but because I am hidden
            in Christ, fullness of God.

I have peace,
            not because I can achieve
            the ends I pursue
            and get what I want,
            but because You,
            at cost of blood bought
            an end to all hostilities.

I am satisfied,
            not because I have finally
            drained the cup of pleasure…
            I grasp so fiercely it shatters,
            shards of perceived delight
            piercing instead of pleasing;

No. 
I am content, 
            when unfulfilled I turn, 
             finally to find again 
             You are the treasure
           my restless soul is seeking.