Am I a Robot or a Wimpy King?

Out of my brokenness, I accused God of hiding the truth from me.

The elements in me were fighting like never before.

I didn’t know that I was a kingdom,

and that darkness ruled by night,

in that broken realm of me.

The snake lifted its head high.

“It said in its heart, ‘I will ascend to heaven; 

I will raise my throne above the stars; 

I will sit on the mount of assembly 

on the heights of Zaphon; 

I will ascend to the tops of the clouds, 

I will make myself like the Most High’” 

The snake gripped my hand,

Moved my finger,

pressed the button,

that silenced my friends,

that offended my sisters.

I glimpsed its tail when it was parting.

I didn’t know it was 

an element of my own realm.

I shouted in horror!

I screamed in protest!

I objected to what was happening.

How could you say, God, that I have free will?

How could men be judged, 

if they are mere robots?

Who owns my remote control?

Who tries to control me like a puppet?

Was it the creator; who made me?

You surely couldn’t have made me Jesus,

because you’re good and kind.

God who is in me couldn’t have made me either.

He is far, in the deepest of heavens,

very far from me.

Then my creator must be my enemy;

who tempts me to do evil,

who incites me to hate my neighbours,

who judges me when I’m awake,

and fills me with fear when I’m asleep.

How could I be judged if I can’t control my actions?

If the remote control is in the hands of my maker,

who is my enemy?

One day,

a dove came and sat on my shoulder.

It sang a beautiful song,

and I cried.

I discovered that I was a kingdom,

that my people who were called by my name

were evildoers,

and that only a remnant was keeping my kingdom 

from the wrath of God?

My brain, my mind, my emotions;

my DNA, my soul, my tree,

are populated with the ungodly,

the fallen, the broken and the undeserving.

Unwholesome children

rotten fruit of my tree,

day and night you keep me restless.

I can hear your thoughts.

I can see the darkness of your hearts.

Your prayers are the cries of hyenas to my ears.

You, the fruit of my tree;

children of the snake

that crawls in my body,

turning you against me,

and you listen to its broken hisses. 

The snake wants to take over,

to rule over the remnant,

the godly and the righteous.

The snake wants to control my kingdom.

It wants to cheat, it wants to gossip,

it wants to lie, it wants to envy,

it wants to hate, it wants to plunder,

it wants to rule over me; over the remnant.

So weak is the remnant!

So few are they and so powerless!

I cried: “Expel the wicked person from among you!”

but nobody dares to listen.

The tooth is so rotten

that it made all the other teeth shake.

I need you, Jesus, to be my King,

to rule over my wretched kingdom,

to rule over the snake and the lost children,

to rule over the godly and the ungodly.

I need you to become my self-control,

my dignity and my crown.

Spread your power through me.

Ignite your fire within me.

Rid me of all ungodliness.

Burn down the rotten fruit of my tree.

Chip away the corrupted root,

and graft a holy one instead.

Take away the ungodly from your presence.

You are my lion and my shepherd.

Hear me oh people:

“remove wicked officials from the king’s presence, 

and his throne will be established through righteousness.”

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