Why should He, from His pearled throne
Stoop down to my place in the dust?
Where I sit with the rest alone,
Where my flesh rots and metal rusts,
Thoughts on the Heart
The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?
Jeremiah 17:9
I’ve had a bit of a rough week, my troubles largely self-inflicted. I won’t go into any graphic detail, but I should think that the above quote is sufficiently informative.
I’m sure we’ve all heard countless times various -isms to the effect of “trust your heart” or “trust your conscience.” I am leaning ever more towards the opinion that these truisms are nothing but ignorant half-truths at best and vain delusions at worst – at least so far as applied to myself.
The heart is fickle and indecisive; it wants one thing but rarely clarifies how you are to go about obtaining it. It is insistent and petulant in its primitive desires, unreasoning in its persistent demands for lustful gratification, constant amusement, and transcendental bliss. The heart is not a being of reason, of contentment, nor of faithfulness, but a beast of wretched selfishness.
God is true when we are false. Those of you who in His Son already profess salvation – be wary of trusting your own hearts, how you feel before God, how you feel about your actions. “Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the LORD’s purpose that prevails.” (Proverbs 19:21). When our hearts are not firmly fixed on God’s purpose and His holy commands, when we take first the counsel of our flesh before that of the Mighty Counselor, we are quick to turn astray into selfish vanities and foolish self-delusion.
In short – I deceived myself for almost a whole week that I could control my lust in the moment of self-gratification, against all wisdom and caution, and while God graciously has not punished me with stripes, I beg that He would, if only it would keep me from sinning against Him again. Instead, I must live with my conscience – I must fasten myself ever tighter to His forgiveness. By grace and grace alone are any saved at all. This last week is a reminder most sharp – my own efforts and plans shall never substitute for His blessing.
Lord, my God,
Watch my soul tonight.
El Shaddai, my Prince of Peace,
Guard my wayward steps.
For I am but a child,
A fool little better than an animal –
Yet one whom you have uplifted,
That he might dare to be a man.
Lord, give me strength, and give me grace,
That grace in which I undeservedly live,
That I might rejoice in obedience,
Not for one night but until my last.
To Serve His House
I yearn for His presence,
Yet I shy from His duties.
I wish to cast off my burdens,
as I add daily to my shackles.
I do what I ought not,
And do not what I ought.
I fear to rest or relax,
For when my guard is laxed —
Sins come in hordes,
Till all left is to mourn.
I am hateful to myself,
A stranger in my own skin.
A sojourner in a cursed body,
A wretched soul in a blameless corpse.
I cannot shoulder the blame,
to a body which cannot think.
I am responsible, I alone;
But my sins too great to atone.
Christ is all I have, pauperish me;
Can you not see it, that He came for thee?
Too great a miracle, sayest thou?
Otherwise to save thyself how?
Canst thou not see it?
The miracle stands before you.
God’s grace is unearned,
God’s grace is infinite,
God’s grace knows no limits of man.
You are forgiven by His blood!
It is not your power not to sin, but His!
Let His will flow through your veins!
To be ever more sin’s eternal bane!
Poetry! Well… Maybe?
This was something I wrote as a culture piece in a indeterminately nearish future grunge sci-fi universe for an obligate carnivore species of seven foot tall metal-scaled horned neo-fascist space viking colonists of a recently deceased empire driven to extermination by a) hubris, b) civil war, c) crapshoot unpredictable sentient robotic war machines, and d) EATING PEOPLE FOR PETTY AMUSEMENT. And their texture.
From the City on a Hill 