The fruition of His mercy
I have come to sow the
seed of love
in your hearts,
said my Lord,
and so I await the fruition of His mercy.
Love is not a decision to make.
I shall not be moved to love Him
(as He should be loved) by any calculation
nor all the willpower I might muster – not until
my heart-soil is sufficiently turned and broken.
It’s not a task assigned, but a process to endure.
The hardscrabble illusion of my autonomy keeps that seed
(now merely a buried potential) from taking root,
until the moment (by God’s accord and schedule)
the soil crumbles, my heart expands, ripens, softens
to ultimately flower in its divine destiny.
O child of God, the attempt to love Him (in return)
stirs the latent, inchoate force within.
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