Never Nearly Enough

This poem is a contemplative reflection on how hard it is to fight temptation.

There aren’t enough hours in a day to confess all that needs to be told

I’m imprisoned by perversion, by indifference, by a longing for gold

Do I hate the sin in my soul, or merely the punishment that it brings?

Do I obey you out of reverence, or merely because you can give me things?

When I survey my sanctification, sometimes it looks pretty rough

I hate the sin that made you die, but never nearly enough

Those rare moments when I seem to succeed, even then the motive is pride

I’m not obeying you out of love, but rather for the gratification I feel inside

I console myself by comparing myself to others, thinking I’m ahead of the rest

Your Law paints a different picture, showing I’ve never done my best

The road to holiness is paved with sorrows; it can be lonely and tough

I hate the sin that made you die, but never nearly enough

Food eaten in ungratefulness could’ve turned to gravel in my mouth

Suffering could’ve been my constant companion since this relationship headed south

But instead my sin has been met with mercy, altogether undeserved

I toy with the idea of entire consecration, but I don’t have the nerve

My maturity isn’t what it ought to be; I’m still entranced by material stuff

I hate the sin that made you die, but never nearly enough

They say your goodness is to lead to repentance, so why do I sin so grace can abound?

I’m the prodigal who’s been lost and dead, but hasn’t yet quite been found

You said one ought not call you ‘Lord’, then not do what you decree

I talk of ‘falling’, though ‘jumping’ would more accurately describe me

Why do I persist in erring, ignoring your threats, calling your bluff?

I hate the sin that made you die, but never nearly enough 

The End

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