There She Sits, Ready to Pounce

There she sits, ready to pounce
On the least little suggestion
That God actually expects the Christian
To do anything.

And when you point out that
She herself adamantly believes that
The Christian absolutely must
Adopt the holy faith
If he is to be saved,
Then where can she go
But either to silence
Or to incorrigible repetition
Or to ad hominem
Or some other dodge?

She has opened
By necessity
The very door
She wishes so desperately
Would stay shut.

She has learned to hate
That anything at all
Must be done,
Yet the very words
Of God himself,
Have wrecked that with
All that talk of
The necessity of faith.

And so she whittles away at
The very “Faith” she has reluctantly
Let through that door,
Until it is next to nothing,
And as devoid of deeds
As she can imagine.

And she has pushed the door to,
Until her fingers are in danger
Of being pinched in it
And the Light itself
Would have a hard time
Shining back through—

And even so, she stops short of clicking it shut—
Thinking herself quite fair and diligent in the matter—
For closing it completely, she will admit,
Would be going too far, and
“Faith must never be locked out,
For without it, the religion is lost.”

And so she must guard the door, she believes.
And guard it, she does,
Lest e’er a thought of
The necessity of good deeds
Should sneak through
And there be no one be there
To beat it back
With whatever talk of
Grace and helplessness
Can be brought to bear.

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