I am afraid of the Cross,
The impassive Godhead Who was acquainted with my grief,
Who co-inhered with the Second, the Son,
Whose Person is God, but Whose Nature is mine.
I did not think to be ingodded,
I merely thought I'd be let off the hook,
Given a get out of jail free card from Milton Bradley,
But instead,
The everlasting space, dreadful echoing, roaring loud brilliance
Groans in travail for more than parole,
Nothing less than revelation
Of theosis.
The stage is too bright, the crowd too loud,
The script too hard, the blocking too awkward,
Always calling, in italics, that I must decrease
As the Son that deceased, must rise
And increase.

The fathers say that neither the course of human events nor necessity of any kind forced the Uncreated One to join to Himself a creaturely mode of existence. God did not become flesh because some actions of the devil or of man made it necessary, but because it was the divine plan and mystery from before the ages. Despite the works of Satan and the coming of sin into the world, the eternal will of God was undeterred, and it moved forward.