The Abdication

The Abdication

In the centre of my soul is a throne

And there I sit, bejeweled

In diamond bracelets

And golden crown

Untouchable, infallible

Sovereign over all I see

Queen of this life

And those who unwittingly acquiesce to worship

Idolatry? A thing of the past!

You'll find no golden calves in this throne room

No decadent banquets or futile lovers;

Just a queen above reproach.

An enchanting charade, a masquerade

An endless cycle of perfecting the image

of one kind and pure and wise and good;

And clamouring, always clamouring

to be adored:

"Here I am, to be worshiped!

Will you not find me altogether lovely,

altogether worthy?"

An art unlearned - this self-seeking sovereignty -

a wellspring as natural as the blood within my veins:

I am therefore I rule

And You dare ask to take my place?

Most pitiable of gods,

have You no throne of Your own?

What claim have You on these diamond bracelets

and golden crown I have earned for myself?

Yet Your voice is resolute

And something in it familiar

A whisper of long-forgotten mercy

The promise of human touch

But what need have I of mercy?

What need have I for this freedom You promise?

 Unjust exchange!

And yet what if I said yes?

What if I took the hand offered?

Folly's whims come over me:

A moment's madness can be undone.

And so I take Your hand

And stand

And abdicate throne and crown and jewels

And walk away from all I have ever known.

But now as You sit down to rule, 

the world changes irrevocably:

The darkness I never knew existed swathed in brilliance

My own face illuminated by the dawn.

Oh paralyzing clarity

In Your blazing light!

For now I see, all too late,

the Truth: 

In the centre of my soul was a cell

And there I sat, enchained

In heavy shackles

And crown of thorns

Untouchable, unfreeable

Isolated from all I could see

Prisoner of this pride

The one who unwittingly acquiesced to self-worship

Idolatry?A thing that can't be passed.

You found the golden calf who pushed out of the throne room

the heavenly banquet, the sacred Lover:

a queen above reproach.

An ensnaring charade, a masquerade

An endless cycle of corrupting the memory

of the only One kind and pure and wise and good

in my clamouring, always clamouring

to be adored.

An art unlearned - this self-destructive rejection of You -

a wellspring as natural as the blood within my veins:

I am therefore I fall

And You dared ask to take my place?

Most pitying God,

You had no guilt of Your own!

What claim had You on the heavy shackles

and crown of thorns I had earned for myself? 

Yet Your will was resolute

And everything in You familiar

The essence of boundless mercy

The fullness of human touch

What right have I to mercy?

What right have I to this freedom You freely give?

Unjust exchange!

Yet how could I say no?

How could I not take the hand offered?

Love's full force comes over me:

An eternity's emptiness in You undone

I take Your hand

And stand

And abdicate death and sin and darkness

And walk away from all I have ever known.

And as You sit down to rule,

the world changes irrevocably:

The darkness that characterized my existence swathed in brilliance

My own face illuminated by the dawn.

Oh animating clarity

In Your blazing light!

For now I see - oh what grace! -

the Truth.