"Ozymandias" - Percy Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land

Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:

And on the pedestal these words appear:

'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

I love this poem, as it seems to so eloquently encapsulate the vanity and meaninglessness of Nebuchadnezzar’s pursuit of worship and adulation. How silly to think that large statutes and grand works will last beyond a lifetime! How absurd to build such gaudy works in self-deification. And yet. And yet, as Pastor Justin reminds us, we must see ourselves in Nebuchadnezzar’s quest for transcendence, for meaning, for a legacy. How absurd to build such an idol, yes! But I too am seeking to build that idol. I am so poignantly reminded as I cast dispersions on these “great” men that not only are they fools in their pursuit, but I am, perhaps, the greater fool for thinking them the fool and still seeking to build my own little kingdom and my own little statue for inspiring worship.

I am reminded of another poem:

“Invictus” - William Earnest Henley

Out of the night which covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeoning of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

This poem is powerful, as it expresses that seemingly innate desire to wrest control of our destiny. How powerful is the sentiment expressed as we see the little man, the underdog, the victim of life running headlong toward whatever may come, unafraid and head unbowed. Perhaps, it would seem as though this is a poignant expression of the three heroes of this Bible passage. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego seem unafraid and unbowed, the quintessential masters of their own fate. But I think, perhaps, the greater emblem of this is found in Nebuchadnezzar. As Pastor Justin explicated, Nebuchadnezzar cannot help but attempt to steer the ship of his destiny. God has already revealed to him that his kingdom will be built and will crumble, and yet Nebuchadnezzar still seeks to make himself the god of the nations, the source of worship for all who come near. And the ironic twist at the end of the story, Nebuchadnezzar once again attempts to wrest control from God’s mighty hand as he once again commands worship, this time of the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.”

There is a great deal of my own sinful desires that I see in Nebuchadnezzar - I seek the adulation of others in what I say, in what I do, and in what I build; I demand control of my life, and flare wildly out of control when life refuses to be tamed. But we are reminded that in Christ alone do we have meaning, and in Christ alone does the control of our destiny lie. We see this contrast as Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego are brought before the king. They do not express an unafraid confidence in their own control and power, rather they proclaim that God alone can determine their outcome: “our God…is able to deliver us…but if not, we will not serve your gods…” These three men do not know whether or not they will survive this ordeal, but they do know that they will continue to serve and worship God alone. I must confess that I struggle to see myself in the actions of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. I see an ideal of myself in their actions, but I far too often find myself bargaining for control of my life, “I will serve you better, or I will read my bible more, or I will love others better if only You do this…”

In what is a fitting twist in history, a rather unknown poet, Dorthea Day, early in the 20th century, wrote a poem as a direct foil to Henley’s. Whereas Henley’s poem is entitled “Invictus,” meaning unconquered, Day’s poem is entitled “Conquered”. It It reads as follows:

“Conquered” - Dorothea Day

Out of the light that dazzles me,
Bright as the sun from pole to pole,
I thank the God I know to be,
For Christ - the Conqueror of my soul.

Since His the sway of circumstance,
I would not wince nor cry aloud.
Under the rule which men call chance,
My head, with joy, is humbly bowed.

Beyond this place of sin and tears,
That Life with Him and His the Aid,
That, spite the menace of the years,
Keeps, and will keep me unafraid.

I have no fear though straight the gate:
He cleared from punishment the scroll.
Christ is the Master of my fate!
Christ is the Captain of my soul!

~ Josh Spare