As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurped town, to another due,
Labor to admit you, but O, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betrothed unto your enemy.
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again;
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
This poem really says it all. I've loved this sonnet ever since I first read it and use it as a prayer every time I feel myself slipping. It is difficult to pray sincerely though--the consequences of God really taking me up on my word...could be painful. Sometimes, I avoid praying it, just because it is dangerous, and just use it as a reminder of what I should feel, should want, as a true Christian--but that is copping out. God will do everything we ask ("Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you" Matt 7:7. "And if we know that he hear us, whatsoever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we desired of him" 1 John 5:15.), He can "even" do more ("Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us..." Eph 3:20), we must be courageous enough to face the consequences of our requests. God often answers our prayers in ways we do not at all expect, and it is only after we have the perspective of hindsight that we see how right His way is.
I added this sonnet to the bottom of my blog to remind myself of the real situation of the Christian: we are "betrothed" to Satan and it is only through Christ's death and resurrection that we can ever be "divorced". His love "ravishes" us, it is so overwhelming. He takes us, rather than us allowing Him access, choosing Him. Some may say differently, but it is always God who is the instigator in the relationship, never us.
C.S. Lewis said that he became a Christian against his will. And some people ask, how is it possible that one is an unwilling Christian? The force of God's battering ram can sometimes be so overwhelming and moving that it is almost as if we had no choice in the matter, despite free will. As I once heard in a sermon, it is as if we are a train locomotive and God picks us up and faces us the opposite way on the track: we have no choice but to go forward. (The analogy can be taken farther: the locomotive may slip backward on a steep hill, but it is still facing forward in the direction the Engineer pointed it and, through His grace, the train will, sooner or later, reach its destination.) Only God has the power to turn the engine, no one else, not Satan, not ourselves. We may think that we have turned away from God, but, really, we're only traveling in reverse -- still pointed in the direction God intends us to go.
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