Without Brushing My Hair
by Hafez
The closer
I get to you, Beloved,
The more I can see
It is just You and I all alone
In this world.
I hear
A knock at my door,
Who else could it be,
So I rush without brushing
My hair.
For too many nights
I have begged for Your return
And what
Is the use of vanity
At this late hour, at this divine season,
That has now come to my folded knees?
If your love letters are true dear God
I will surrender myself
to
Who you keep saying
I
Am.
The last stanza, “I will surrender myself to who you keep saying I Am,” is so inviting and so haunting. In just a few short pen strokes Hafez, the poet, has captured what, in my mind, is the essence of Scripture and has put words to God’s deepest desire for us as his children.
It is haunting because there are things I don’t want to surrender. There are things that I have convinced myself are absolutely necessary to maintain the image of self whom I and the world around me have come to know. Who would I be if I am not this person? Coming face to face with Jesus causes a crises in identity. It is to lose my life as I know it. It is to cease to function as the person with split personalities – juggling my identity between different groups of people depending on how I think they think I should be performing. To surrender the self I have constructed that my family and friends and enemies have validated is to die. What a terrifying thought.
But those who lose their life will find it.
It is also very inviting. This Jesus who stands before me, bearing all of my scars, all of my shame, all of my pain, invites me to reach out and touch. As I gaze upon the one who has taken all of this upon himself, all the things I feel I must hold on to lest I die, I am confronted with the reality that he is risen. And so I reach out and I touch, trusting that who this person says I am is perhaps true – at least for today – and today I discover life. Suddenly it becomes clear that what I thought could sustain me and shore up my identity was false and I find myself declaring, “My Lord, and my God!”
There is yet another reason this haunts me though, or rather, terrifies me. If I really am who God says I am than no longer can I walk through life as a spectator. No longer can I believe the lies that once enveloped me – those lies that say I am not good enough or righteous enough or talented enough or smart enough or, or or… – but now, if I take these words to heart, I must accept that I am loved ruthlessly, unconditionally, irrevocably. Even when I was the most obstinate this Christ died for even me. Such love directed towards me compells me into deeper relationship. Deeper relationship inspires in me a oneness of purpose and desire. A oneness of purpose and desire, this total and complete conversion, similar to being born again, causes my heart to not beat for myself but with my Creator, which shamelessly and scandously beats for all the world. Coming face to face with Jesus scares the hell out of me because to accept the truth about me, the truth which God says is true about me, requires a complete reordering of my desires and it demands more from me than any of my family, friends or enemies ever demanded. They only desired I look more like them – to uphold the status quo, to not rock the boat. Jesus says I am more than that – that I should be “perfect” (complete) not like the best Christian or Muslim or Buddhist or Atheist – well, the best human - I know, but something far more. Something like his Father in heaven.
Am I willing to journey into that? Am I willing to be who God says I already am? Jesus’ answer was a resounding, “I AM.” I want to be.
God, I will surrender myself to who you keep saying I Am.
*I wish that I could take credit for this. It is written as if my heart and soul had cried it out and I had to share it. I posted it first appearing as my own because it speaks for every part of me. It is actually written by a man named Chad Holtz and you can read his blog here.