as push comes to shove, and what feels like my home is covered in wildfires, I returned to one of my favorite poems: “As the Ruin Falls” by good ol’ Clive Staples Lewis. The man is a genius, I tell you. A wordsmith who creates prose that severs the flashy, pretend humility from our souls and paints written pictures of eternal purposes. In-freaking-credible. I hope this blesses you as much as it always blesses me.
All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through:
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.
Peace, re-assurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin:
I talk of love –a scholar’s parrot may talk Greek–
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.
Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making
My heart into a bridge by which I might get back
From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.
For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains
You give me are more precious than all other gains.