The Sharp Crown of My King

“The Crisis Phase.” This phrase is as unsettling as “magnetic storm” or “air raid.” 

The third week of pilgrimage through the depths of the soul was underway.

The Lord led me through the ashes of my sins. He entrusted me to look my shadows in the eye. He allowed me to experience the collapse of the supports and bridges of the past and the expectations of the future. Only “now” remains. 

In the rising dust above the ruins of past mistakes, every particle can be discerned… I am here to inhale it and sometimes “cough” with prayers, questions, and meagre conjectures. 

A week of careful study of the mechanics of my sins. Here the Lord shook the soot and dust from my soul. And He made it a prism for transmitting His Light into the world. 

It was here that these lines were poured forth.

“The sharp crown of my King…

The mundane meditation set to the tune of Matthew 25:31-46 was as ordinary as a fisherman’s work, initially evoking no special anticipation. 

“When the Son of Man comes in His glory and … sits on the throne of His glory.”

How beautiful He is in glory, I thought. However, upon finishing the text, I posed a puzzle to my mind: who am I - one of the sheep or the goats?.. 

But the Beautiful One had His plan. 

The Lord allowed me to see myself in a vast queue, from which souls departed each in their own direction. It was happening in a certain place, bathed in light, reminiscent of a throne room. While awaiting a decision regarding myself, I felt slightly anxious. And here I stand before the Lord of heaven and earth. And there is no one else, only the living spatial silence breathing above us. I wish to convey, even in such expressions, what I felt to anyone reading this, and I would be very glad if even a drop reaches the soul. 

The King descends from the throne and approaches me. It seems I have frozen. I did not want to run or hide. I was mesmerised by His appearance. Yet I cannot name a single external feature. I felt Him. I saw with my heart - in a way that reason cannot define. He stands very close, and it is difficult for me to look at Him - but even if I lower or close my eyes, it does not help. In my soul, at that moment, there appeared as if an open window, through which a fresh wind bursts into the house with such force that it cannot be closed.

His majesty. Power. Authority. 

Love. Tenderness. Passion. 

All of this felt like an explosion of the collision between monumental icy icebergs and boiling lava. The silence was akin to contemplating a dangerous, powerful element half a metre away, capable of engulfing me. But love… Royal. It possesses the right to destroy and to create. Who am I beside it? As great as He is, so infinitely insignificant am I. Even to call myself “I” seems absurd. Compared to the Eternal, it seems that no “me” ever existed.

But His unbearable gaze is directed not into the void, but at me. For the King, my soul means so much, as it does not even mean for me… 

“The sharp crown of my King…”. Once again, it wafted after the meditation. A tremor and a very deep desire to behold Him. This was my desired suffering, for to look upon the light means to acknowledge my dirt. It is fear and admiration, it is sorrow and love. 

The evil spirit was against it. Throughout the day, doubts, feelings of guilt and confusion visited me, named: “what if this is all a fabrication, you have spun it from your pride and now deceive everyone.” 

The companion assured me that these temptations should be sent away and ignored. 

After the prayer of going to sleep, my room had already plunged into silence. But not my heart. The Lord called me to account. And I uttered the continuation of Simon Peter’s words: “But at Your word, I will let down the net,” defying the uncertainty of whether it would succeed.

This light, this grace was too strong to bury it within myself. And the Lord took my creative heart, my mind, and hands - and brought forth into the world the image of His royal majesty through these verses. 

“The sharp crown of my King…”. 

After writing, my body trembled as if from chills, without any change in external temperatures.

This work became a sort of chronicle of the journey through my “crisis phase,” where pain walks hand in hand with comfort, destruction with creation, cold with fire. 

My King - is like this. And I am sure, He is even more than what human language can say about Him. 

The very fruit of revelation:

The sharp crown of my King:
Not filigree pierced His brow.
I see the reflection of eternal fire
In His spilled, redeeming blood.

In His eyes – sometimes icy-blue,
Sometimes the colour of molten metal
I see judgement for the proud and the wicked,
And mercy for those whose hearts have wept.
They can strike like the sea in a storm,
Crashing down boulders and tearing off masks.
But they can shelter in a quiet harbour,
Granting me the peace of a father’s embrace.

His palm, which holds the earthly sphere,
Easily squeezes the throat of the leviathan.
But that same palm is stretched over me,
To heal my deep wound.
His movements are regal and strict,
In them, the Creator measures days for the stars.
But He bends down, - and serves, washes feet
Of those who turn away from the path of truth.

I hear the voice of my King –
Sometimes a thunderous roar shakes the mountains,
Sometimes a quiet whisper, tender as dawn:
“I have paid. I have removed your chains.”
He is just. His scales are precise.
He is attentive. His laws are holy.
And before Him, we are all laid bare,
And all are desperately rich in sin.

But the generosity of God is an ocean without a bottom,
Let the scarcity of offerings drown in it.
His love is immeasurable, so strong,
Stronger - I believe! - than all my struggles.

My King hung, helpless and naked,
Between heaven and earth, pierced by nails.
And every unfaithful, vile step of mine
Was driven into Him by cruel hands.
He gave everything. He humbled His own power.
God died as a mortal dies,
To prevent me from falling irretrievably,
To snatch the soul from the prison of death.

The sharp crown of my King,
But there is no reward dearer to me
Than to know that He gave Himself for me,
And to be under the shadow of a loving gaze.