That Day

SOLILOQUY OF A WEAK BELIEVER

"You shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the LORD your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. Therefore the LORD your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath day."
(Deuteronomy 5:15)

I had tried to write this poem more than a year ago, during one of my darker times, though I did not complete it. I intended for it to be a song at first, but I couldn't really come up with a melody, and thus the cadence in the first few stanzas are really weird. Take it as a kind of amateur free verse, I suppose.

This was what I jotted down a year ago when I decided to write the poem: "I feel numb toward my sin. How can this be?

"For some reason, the course of action I intend to take is to write a song. I am so frustrated and weary, I want to remind myself why I want to pursue God in the first place. I could've forsaken Him anytime during these two years.

"Yet I didn't. And I will not. I need to know why."

The words of the poem crystallize for my the memories of utter hopelessness I had in the early times of my faith. Looking back, those moments have finally turned from bitter to sweet.

I just revised it, and I finally completed it:


Soliloquy of a Weak Believer (That Day)

Why not give up?

Why do pursue?

Why do I seek a God I clearly never knew?

I’m tired of running,

Weary of striving.

My heart is dull as stone;

My willingness is dying.

All I see is darkness ahead, the lake of fire red;

Still I find my drunken soul not want to turn.

The love of God I cannot feel, and why?

It seems to me,

I’m destined to curse God and die.

Why try?

Why not give up?

Why not give up?

I say I want to turn,

And yet I never do accordingly.

Regenerate saints are not as such,

Regenerate saints all love Him much.

I search my heart and find not love, but sinful passions I never could let go.

How impossible it is to give Him my all, to give Him my whole!

Why not give up?

Why won’t I stop?

What drives my inconsistent striving? I know not.

What is it that I look for when I seek Your face?

Don’t I despise Your holiness?

Am I not too proud to praise?

How did I ever get here?
The folly of two masters.
Reminiscence of devotion that has seemed to lose its luster.
But did it once shine bright?
How did I ever get here?
A vivid memory of newfound love and fear...

Now I remember that day,

His Word pierced like a sword.

My first glimpse of blinding light;

My eyes were opened.

And I remember that day,

I called upon His Name,

I called Him “Abba, Father”.

Why would I call Him Father,

If I am not His son?

Oh, the dread and bitter sorrow,

And the sweetness that had followed!

The tears and moans and groans and cries and sobs and lifted hands!

The snapping of my heartstrings,

The sight of the King of Kings,

Shall I forget and live three score and ten more years in sin?

Oh, gracious Lord, please help me,

I shall live like this no more!

I have forgotten Your sweet blessings and that You have more in store!

I am foolish and depraved.

Who would want not to be saved?

You are a Master like no other; oh, break my will, make me a slave!

Let me touch Your hands and kiss Your feet,

Good and righteous, have mercy.

Shut my lips with holy light,

Show Your wrath to make me fright.

Oh, let me not speak words and act against them in a blink,

Let me set my eyes upon You and in faith I shall not sink!

But Father, I will fail! Sin will assail!

And my efforts shall seem to no avail.

What shall I do?

What can I do,

But confess my sins and beg for You?

Beg that You will not forsake,

For God’s sake, I'll not feel sate;

I'll knock the door until I bleed,

For there’s none like You whom I so need,

None like You who can me feed,

None who formed all heavens and hell,

None like You, Immanuel!

But please, by You, I persevere,

My prayers and cries, I beg You hear.

My heart’s ground for two laws at fight,

Assure me that I’m on Your side.

For You, O King, You always win;

Yes, You shall put death to my sin!

Give me peace, O gentle Spirit,

Yet help me stand when I feel none.

Endure with me when I am faithless,

From sin, help me swiftly run.

I am a wretched worm and dog,

The type of sinner for whom Christ bled.

Let me know I have hope too,

That in grace I may go to bed.

Help me long to see Your face,

That I may too run well the race.

The cross I’ll bear,

The shield I’ll wear,

The sword, and always cast my cares.

Be still and—

God help me—

Drink the cup,

And never give up.