Sunset

Rage Against the Dying of the Light

(A three-minute read)

All praise, honor and thanks to the Lord Jesus Christ.

If it weren’t for you, Lord, I could be dead. I could be in hell. I could be stuck on a roadside somewhere, trapped in my own devices. It was a near thing.

I can’t construct anything that holds in Your greatness. I can only build structures in which to trap myself. The things you build free me. The things I build entrap me.

This is a spiritual truth: my free will can capture my own heart and put it in bondage. I have the power at every moment to submit myself to slavery. Or I can let you unlock the cell and let me out. It’s always up to me.

I can march into Egypt at any time against your instruction, or stay in the promised land, where you will take care of me and meet my needs. Like a wayward child, my heart yearns for the things it wants. That modern mantra: ‘The heart wants what it wants.’ No enlightenment there. Only chains.

My heart turns its eyes only to its desires, and false promises it thinks will make me happy. They are all illusions, held out like gems that turn out to be paste.

Then you come along, as a parent, and you teach that my eyes wander, yet I can look toward something beyond my imagination. If I were to burn my own eyes out with a hot poker, I would still be able to see these things through the eyes of faith.

So, like a child I reach out, up. With my arms I capture nothing of you. You are untouchable. That’s the essence of holiness. I could as well have them amputated. With spiritual arms only can I reach for you. And now, blinded, I behold your splendor, and armless, I grasp your infinitude.

Your greatness is to be sought, run after. But my legs cannot keep up. They may as well be weak, atrophied, so I am condemned to sit in one place, unable to pick up my mat and walk. But in my spirit, I lace up with the shoes of the gospel of peace and they give my feet wings. Finally, I can move in the right direction. I am weightless now.

You have shown me gently, sweetly, that such things as I can see and grasp and follow – my own designs – are not to be desired. They will fade and disappear. They will always sell me short. They will ensnare me if I let them. But they are never big enough to capture you.

All praise, honor and thanks to the Lord Jesus Christ.

If you liked this essay, you might like this poem.

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