I recently came across a poem by Margaret Halaska about how many rooms we make available for God in our “house.” It captures our resistance to handing over all the rooms in our house to God and God’s infinite patience in dealing with us. The poem is titled “Covenant,” and it reads as follows:
The Father knocks at my door seeking a home for his son: Rent is cheap, I say.
I don’t want to rent. I want to buy, says God.
I’m not sure I want to sell, but you might come in to look around.
I think I will, says God.
I might let you have a room or two.
I like it, says God, I’ll take two. You might decide to give me more some day. I can wait, says God.
I’d like to give you more, but it’s a bit difficult. I need some space for me.
I know, says God, but I’ll wait. I like what I see.
Hm, maybe I can let you have another room. I really don’t need that much.
Thanks, says God, I’ll take it. I like what I see.
I’d like to give you the whole house But I’m not sure—
Think on it, says God, I wouldn’t put you out. Your house would be mine and my son would live in it. You’d have more space than you’d ever had before.
I don’t understand at all.
I know, says God, but I can’t tell you about that. You’ll have to discover it for yourself. That can only happen if you let him have the whole house.
A bit risky, I say.
Yes, says God, but try me.
I’m not sure—I’ll let you know.
I can wait, says God. I like what I see.
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