Friday, April 1, 2016


by Cheryl Merrick

As she frustratingly drives
herself to perform each task
in a certain precise manner
which she has determined
is “perfection”,
She strives to build her own, private
Tower of Babel.
At times, discouraged, she pauses
to wail, “I can’t be perfect!”,

then with renewed pharisaical zeal,
she continues to build,
block by block,
hoping that by her own efforts
she will gain the prize of perfection.
All the while forgetting
that perfection is
  not a prize to be won,
but a gift that is given,
  not something you can wrest away,
but an offering of your heart,
  not to be achieved by a force of will,
but a submitting of will,
  which allows the Father to mold us
til, at last, complete and mature,
  we are invited to dwell in His presence.

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