Rescue Me!

Holy Sonnet XIV

Batter my heart three personed God; for you
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me and bend
Your force to break, blow, burn and make me new.
I, like an usurped town, to another due,
Labour to admit to, but Oh, to no end;
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived and proves weak or untrue.

Yet dearly I love you and would be loved fain,
But am betrothed unto your enemy:
Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

-- John Donne (1573-1631)


[This post is a response to a recent post by a dear friend...]

I was first introduced to John Donne, one of the great English poets, during a poetry unit in my high school senior English class. In fact, I wrote a major paper that was a analysis of the literary forms used in this very sonnet; specifically, how Donne utilizes alliteration and metaphor to communicate the desperation of a man who longs to be closer to God. I remember my paper still, for I was quite proud of it. Of course, back then I was but a mere 17 year-old, still quite innocent and fresh to the aches of the world. If I were to write that paper again, I would pay more attention to the theological nuances, especially since I am now 23 years old and am in my second semester at theological seminary.

I long for God to “batter my heart,” for the walls of my heart are rigid with depravity. My thoughts wander immediately to a phrase from another favorite poet, Paul Simon, who once admitted painfully, “I’ve built walls, a fortress deep and mighty, that none may penetrate.” Just as castle and fortress walls are composed of layers of brick and mortar, in an effort to both contain those who dwell within and deflect those who might assail, sin, too, forms walls that contain depravity and deflect love.

Donne admits, and rightfully so, that only God has the power and capacity to break down the walls of sin and instead build walls of love. A careful examination of the above poem reveals that Donne is not communicating that God will merely knock down walls of a sinful heart and leave the heart to fend for itself; on the contrary, Donne entreats God to not only “batter his heart,” but also to transform his heart by “break[ing], blow[ing], and burn[ing] his heart to “make [it] new.” God is not only a powerful force who rescues those who cry for deliverance; God also becomes a blacksmith who, through heat and force and immense patience, can hammer out our iniquity and form us anew.

Donne admits that reason alone is not enough for him to be faithful—pretty amazing concept for a guy who is Pre-Post-Modern (that is, pre-Enlightenment, pre-Kant, Pre-Schliermacher). Although Reason plays an important role in our discernment between good and evil, it is not enough to fend off the temptation of sin. Eventually, only faith in God has the capacity to transform us. Just as the power of God caused the walls of Jericho to “come a tumblin’ down,” so shall the walls of sin “come a tumblin’ down” when we beg God for mercy.

What comprises our own personal fortresses, our personal prisons of iniquity? What themes of depravity and its subsequent derivitives are responsible for the impenetrable layers of sin around our hearts? I know what mine are and lately, I feel like John Donne, that nothing short of falling to my knees and begging God to divorce me from a marriage to sin will save me from my enslavement to it. We are powerless to rescue ourselves, but through the grace of God, the love of Christ, and power of the Holy Spirit, we will never have to rely on our own merit for our own salvation. Alleluia! Praise be to God!