When I was eight, I thought a WWII cardboard tank replica with a ‘periscope’ would complete me. It didn’t. It went the way of all cardboard.
At 10 I thought a plastic replica of a 1933 Marmon Indianapolis race car would complete me. It rubbed away as did my sense of completion when I drug it behind my father’s 1954 Ford Wagon. It, not my dad’s car, was reduced to nothing.
At 12 I thought a kiss from Sue would complete me. What a mess!
As life progressed I recognized a pattern. I sensed a void in my inner self and concluded I was empty. I began gathering things, people, thoughts, or ‘special events' trying to fill it. No surprise, these failed.
Then I turned to Jesus and said, “If you are there, you can have me, but I am stopping any effort to complete myself so you will love me. Bam! He showed up, waked up, entered in, took over, and in a moment I was complete only to find out an everlasting truth.
Every time I try to complete myself the One who has already completed me seems distant. My trying to make myself better is but an outgrowth of believing, ever so subtile, that He isn’t enough. But when I rest in His completing me I live the truth and discover I can love others.