One Sunday

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One Sunday

—inspired by Jonathan Edwards’ “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God”

I walked out as a sinner
In the hands of an angry God—

And the earth opened up before me
On my path to Church
And I could not keep my foot from
Slipping and slid down and down
And soon stood at the mouth of Hell.
And no one greeted me; nothing visited
Save ash, gray, dead ash. No sighing pagan,
No river, no whirlwind lovers,
No brimstone—all was equal
Ash.
And as soon as I questioned—
What goes with me now, my God?—
I was answered: You are My Image,
My Child, sinner though you think yourself.
Cast your flaws upon the grate
And watch as I cast the fire
That licks them to ash.
I then saw my impediments form bold lettering
On the grate—Greed, Lust, Jealousy, Sloth—
And flames did engulf them.
And a Voice spoke to my Soul: Gaze on this
Dark pit and know that here sins are burned,
Not sinners.
Sins become ash. Sinners become saints
In time in Love with Me.
And thus assured I rose to sunlight again
And standing in the path
That leads to the Congregation
Turned my steps home where I sought
My closet, seated myself in solitude
And prayed for the first time with a clean heart.