How can we help but believe the lies, unless there is someone there to speak truth to us? I am weak and can not stand against the armies on my own. They overtake me, with no care for my life. With sick grins on their faces, they seek their next victim, without even stopping to see the remains of flesh they’ve just marred. This army has no second glance for those of us they’ve trampled. It walks en mass, crippling and tearing what they can – always hungry, always moving, always brutalizing; never still.
The second wave of soldiers sweeps in; quieter, but just as bent on destruction. They stand beside their chosen prey, working as unnoticed as they can to bruise and bruise and bruise the hearts of the fallen. They seek not death but mediocrity. Their purpose is to numb the wounds, not heal them; to prod the heart enough so that it beats enough to feel the pain, but nothing more. They hate the truth and guard your wounded ears as best they can. All the while they whisper: lies they know will hurt. They’ve studied what they can of you; they work to hit your weak spots.
And so we lay, unmoving, knowing the intentionality of our attacker. Seeing the lies from truth, but believing the lies all the same. If only we would use our dried and dying lips to stake the claim in our inheritance instead. If only we would but whisper the word: Abba.
He is Victor over all, but he comes when we let him. All attempts to save ourselves, to be strong enough on our own, to bear down and withstand this pain for just a bit longer – these attempts are futile. But so long as we deny our need to be saved, salvation’s Captain can not enter. He waits for us, and comes before we know we’ve said his name.
I am victor. Not I, but Christ in me. We are in the land of the Beloved King, and although opposing armies may siege and advance for a time, it is only for a time.
There is no hand strong enough to break the Hand that comes to save us. There is no lie so big that Truth is overshadowed. There is no victory where Christ is not present. Speak the truth to eachother, and listen to the voice of One who knows where you are. So intent is He, on healing and on truth, that all the while you thought you were alone and dying, He was waging war and reigning in victory over your attackers.
You are not lost.
Come quickly to the King who saved you. Know that life without the life He gives you is not life at all.
Be still and know that I am God.
Be unmoved in this: you are mine.
Forgotten? No. You are not forgotten.
Oh how well I see you, says the King.
Oh how well I know the pain of your existence. Come child, sit and wait. Be healed.
And the armies dissipate.