I Have a Stalker

The word is out. Yes, I have a stalker. And yes, you do too.

This poem I wrote last autumn. I was having my quiet time at a friend’s house, and watching the sunrise through her large windows, this poem was born.

My thought was how inner sin is like a manipulating, irritating, passive-aggressive stalker we can’t get rid of. He pushes and doesn’t let up. Even if we start well, he does everything to ensure we don’t finish that way. He twists our motives, pollutes our service, recalibrates our right-and-wrong, and remains our greatest critic and condemner. He is always prepared to rear his ugly head. Give him any thought at all—pause in your good, think twice, doubt in any way God’s sovereignty or kindness—and that’s all he needs.

Don’t treat him kindly. Don’t keep a guest bed waiting for him. Don’t feel like you owe him anything because you’ve been together for so long. Kick him out! And radically!

Thief

Treat him not with kind caresses;

His hold shall but increase.

E’en with the gain he has he presses,

But a shell of peace.

Your motive he will frustrate.

Your service he will taint.

Your compass he’ll recalibrate

And criticize constraint.

He will not be content with part,

And secrecy he seeks.

Yet ‘tis of the foundation—heart—

That the mouth speaks.

His true motive He won’t tell us.

He hides behind mistrust,

Fuels diligence with jealous,

And removes the veil of just—

The injury of fallen pride,

The robber of your joy,

The reason for griefs multiplied—

He does but destroy—

The selfish streak in humility,

The cruel deception when

Thoughtfulness is futility

Apart from the eyes of men.