Perfection

The following lines have been tugging at my heart for a long time - ever since the day a young man taught me a very important lesson - in being perfect in His eyes. (A reference to He/His/Him in bold with a capital H is a reference to the Almighty.)

I am perfect,
or so I thought.

I have made it,
I have all that I want.
A lovely wife,
wonderful children,
a great job,
a happy, contented life.

Doing no harm to anyone.
Doing my little to help someone.
Finding time for me and my family,
squeezing some time for my friends
and even a few moments for God.

What else could I hope for?
What else can anyone hope for?

Until one day I met someone,
who, though in his twenties,
struggled to do most things
an eight-year old would do with ease.

He was overjoyed to see me,
and met me with a hug,
that made my whole body smile.

And as I sat down
for some small talk
with his parents,
I could see he was impatient.

He could not understand the talk,
its need or its benefits.
And soon he gestured
for me to go with him.

I did not see his call.
No, I saw it,
but acted as if I didn't.
And continued with the chatter.

I don't remember what we talked about;
it couldn't have been important.
But I continued to act
as if I didn't see him calling.

Then he lost his patience.
He came and took my hand,
and I followed him blindly;
his strong arm leading mine.

He took me to his room
and closed the door;
and there playing out loud
were beautiful songs,
songs of praise to God.

He led me as a child
to the centre of the room
and let go of my hand,
only to raise his upwards.

And then he began
to sing with such melody
that my heart trembled;
and then it melt, and soon I felt
my cheeks also getting wet.

His eyes were closed.
Each word of the song
came sweetly out of his mouth.
He had nothing else on his mind;
just one purpose - to sing out to Him
and hopefully get me to join him.

I sang that day
as I had never sang;
from my heart,
from my soul;
it was worship, pure and divine.

Now tell me,
just who is perfect?
Not in the stained eyes of the world,
but in His perfect eyes.

Me with all my distractions,
struggling to find time for Him,
or he with all his obsession
who has time only for Him?

I dare not ask that question
For the answer I get
may not be the answer I expect.