Behold, he stands at the door and knocks

I have truly fallen far from you, Jesus, though not in the way I would normally mean by "falling" -- it is more that I am aware that my love has grown cold. A prideful voice in me suggests that this awareness is due to some heightened spiritual sensitivity on my part, and that I should give myself some credit for it. Yet who am I that I should boast of spiritual sensitivity? I have done little to increase in that and much to cause a deadening of my senses. No, any sensitivity is purely the work of Grace. It is you, calling me back from the brink of destruction, warning me that I am about to fall headlong into the vast ocean of my passions.

The desires in my heart are breeding and growing out of control. You stand at the door and knock, offering my soul that excellent medicine which is your very self -- perhaps that is why I am avoiding you, because I have grown attached to my present state and realize that letting you in will mean the death of these disordered desires. At least, that is the perception, though in fact you bring order and redemption to the desires of the heart.

Right now there is a certain agony, for I know you are near; I can hear you knocking, calling from just a short distance away. Such tension is unbearable; I will not be able to last much longer. When I can bear it no more, I will either go and open the door and let you in, or I will run away and stop my ears so that I can pretend you are not there. Which will I choose to do? O God do not abandon me! Do not let me stray far from your side, but come and rescue me. If I flee from your presence, come and find me and call me once again.

I am confident of this: You will follow me all the way to the gates of hell itself and extend your hand to me, that I might grasp your hand and be saved. O God, may I have the strength to cry out to you in the hour of my death!