In the Fell Clutch of Circumstance

The poem "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley is a favorite literary target in Christian circles. The smugness of the final two lines, with the speaker claiming, "I am the master of my fate; /  I am the captain of my soul" gets people worked up as heretical and anti-God. With the biblical call to hold loosely all that is not God and the command to give up our life in order to gain it firmly in mind, I can't deny that point about the poem.

Having said that, I love the poem. Whether correctly or not, I don't read it as a diatribe on personal sovereignty or a claim of deistic power. Instead, I read into it one of the great themes of the Psalms - that of remaining steadfast.

It's the second stanza that really preaches to me:

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody but unbowed.

I have been annoyed by circumstance this week. I felt (albeit ridiculously) bludgeoned by chance at times. I found out at the last minute that I had to spend several hours at school on Monday night. I had several meetings, none of which seemed productive or necessary. I scratched my new car. One daughter nearly concussed herself while I was attempting to make supper. The other threw a fit soon after. I have bus duty all week. I've unexpectedly lost sleep.

And boy am I quick to wince and cry aloud, even in the midst of such trifling, trivial annoyances. Wince, wince, wince, wince, wince! It's sad. In a great life full of blessings and an awe-inspiring God who has saved me, I so foolishly and carelessly lose sight of the source of my joy.

One of the definitions of fast is "so as to be hard to move." It is from this that we get terms like hold fast, stand fast, and remain steadfast. These phrases are all over the Psalms, and as I read them this summer, I remember thinking that I wanted that to me be. I wanted my faith, my joy, and my focus to be steadfast. In real trouble, in false trouble (like this week), and in all things, I wanted to be immovable. I still do.

And so I recite that stanza over and over. I have no desire to be the captain of my fate: I trust God much more than myself with that. But I do desire to master my circumstances, to be unbowed despite wounds, to be rock-solid.

Bludgeon away, Chance. No more wincing.