A Violent Grace

In literature class, we read a handful of John Donne's poems, among them the Holy Sonnets. And I found myself particularly attracted to this one:

10

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,
Labor to admit you, 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.

(p.1689-1690, The Longman Anthology of British Literature)

There's something about the idea of a violent grace, of a God who seizes hold and won't let go, a God against whom I cannot fight, that appeals so deeply. There are days that I am so aware of how poorly I love him, how terribly unfaithful I am despite the fact I dearly love him, as Donne says. Helpless to do anything to be faithful, I too, like Donne, am crying out for a violent grace because the sweet words of the Bible--the "knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend" aren't doing enough. Lord, I need something stronger.