A Sonnet to Christ Crucified
I am not moved, my God, to love You
by the heaven that You have promised me
and I am not moved either by hell so feared
as the reason to stop offending You.
You move me, my Lord, it moves me to see You
nailed to a cross and your flesh destroyed,
what moves me is to see your body so injured,
what moves me is your suffering and your death.
What moves me, finally, is your love, and in such way,
that even if there was no heaven, I would love You,
and even if there was no hell, I would fear You.
You don’t have to give me for me to love You,
so even if what I hope for I did not hope,
the same that I love You, I would love You.
I came across this poem a couple of weeks ago and it really resonated with me. My research (a.k.a. Google searching) didn’t reveal an author but I learned that it was originally written in Spanish.
I don’t think I can say with 100% honesty that my love for Christ is as pure as the love described in the sonnet, I do know that nothing moves me to love, humility and service like thinking upon Christ’s sacrifice for me on the cross. The love that God displayed for humanity through his atoning sacrifice reminds me that the struggle to live for Christ is worth it. It reminds me that I am totally unworthy of his love but he loves me anyway.
1 thought on “A Sonnet to Christ Crucified”
Here’s another version:
I am not moved to love you, O my God,
That I might hope in promised heaven to dwell;
Nor am I moved by fear of pain in hell
To turn from sin and follow where you trod.
You move me, Lord, broken beneath the rod,
Or stretched out on the cross, as nails compel
Your hand to twitch. It moves me that we sell,
To mockery and death, your precious blood.
It is, O Christ, your love which moves me so,
That my love rests not on a promised prize;
Nor holy fear on threat of endless woe;
It is not milk and honey, but the flow
Of blood from blessed wounds before my eyes,
That waters my buried soul and makes it grow.