the war

It wasn’t like one of those epic war movies--the ones where the rusty weather is both foreshadowing and foreboding, and every soldier is bound by sheets of metal and the spineless expectation of death.

But I stood as a fortified and redeemed victor before the war began.

In the moment, I focused on my weapons, which were also my protection. In the Kingdom, that’s the way things worked. My left hand was balancing a heavy, already blood-stained cross on my back. Although it seemed as though I could not have chosen a more cumbersome load to carry, I stood on that front line with confidence in my choice because I couldn’t help but feel as if the hundreds of pounds of wood actually lifted a burden off of me that far surpassed any physical pressure. As I struggled with it, I knew immediately that carrying it was not something I could ever do alone. That cross, although mine, belonged to my General of the Royal Army, Who had poured His blood on it for me to remind me to carry my own as He did. It was a symbol of unsurpassable and undeniable grace, but it was not dainty. It was ugly to be a piece of armor in my King’s ranks, but it was the most mind-blowingly beautiful story character to ever exist. I lived with it. I was ready to die on it. [Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it.” Matthew 16:24] I gripped a book in my right hand, jabbing it forward every chance I got while still keeping it welded to my heart. It was the most pointed, shining, and incredible sword I had ever seen. My King had made it especially for me. He wanted me to finger its every groove and admire all of its glorious splendor, but while showing it to everyone--even my enemies--so that they too may revel in its power. The Book revealed messages to me from my King that taught me, rebuked me, corrected me, and trained me in righteousness [2 Timothy 3:16]. These thin pages were my most effective weapon because they were alive. They were breathing. Their veins carried through the Book the vitality and validity of my life, flowing directly from the heart of my King. They were my strongest shield, for they were branded with the symbol of faith in my King through full belief and confidence in His promises relayed in its words, perfectly designed to deflect and extinguish every flaming arrow. The more time I spent studying its details, the stronger I became, because knowing my weapon was the best way to use it to its full, awesome potential. [For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Hebrews 4:12] My heart--the most important thing to my King--was completely covered by an impenetrable breastplate. No bullet or spear or sin or attack or sword or temptation could break its consistency, for the righteous substance of its metal came directly from the armor of my King. Deeply etched in its center was the crest of the Royal Army, intricately hand-carved and eternally incapable of smudging or rusting. My head was adorned with a helmet that could not be rocked--a helmet of salvation. It hid from the enemies all that they wanted to see in me, and reformed the thoughts in my head to become focused on my King [Romans 12:2]. Holding my armor together was a thick belt. It was nothing miraculous, but it was clean and perfect. It was unbent and unscathed and had no choice but to remain that way. Though my clothing would sometimes cover it, the belt remained faithful to how the King created it to be. It gathered and held up everything I needed to fight for Him to a pinnacle of truth. My feet were bare. They needed no armor, for they were purely a weapon. They withstood the roughness of the ground and became calloused from its inconsistency. The skin on them was stretched thin as my feet and toes spread from the joyous weight of all I was carrying. Dirty and unkempt, they were just as they should be. They ran furiously when needed and stood completely still when told, but they were trained to never, ever rest from being used to further the Kingdom in the gospel of my General. Furthermore, my General had called me to serve, so my hands were just as weathered, clinging to the cross and the Book [Mark 10:45]. [Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. Ephesians 6:10-17]

I stared confidently into the eyes of my enemies. Led by a fallen one of my own, they were equipped to know me well. However, created by my King, their commander was weak in that he could ultimately harbor no secrets or gain any foothold on us no matter how hard he tried. I studied the names of their troops: lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride. They comprised the army of temptation. I had fought each of them many, many times in the forms of people, material items, and--worst and most prevalent of all--myself. Their eyes were hungry. I was even more attractive to them because I had selfishly let them taste me before, and they wanted me in their army. 

But... when I was weak, I was strong, because my King displayed His overwhelming might in pulling me out of the pit of guilt and shame and evil [2 Corinthians 12:9].

Surrounded by an army of angels and disciples of my General and King, I was unintimidated and unshakable. Never once did I question my King for His decision to have this war, for I knew and held in my heart that He was the very most glorified in a won battle in His Name. A well that never ran dry and river that never stopped flowing, the fulfilling substance of the murmur amongst our ranks was as steady and symphonic as the brilliance of my King’s throne room, which was what I was fighting to one day see. I knew that after this war, no matter the blood that was shed or carnage that ensued, my King would be glorified. There would be peace in the ashes and in the aftermath of all that had come and was still to come, and in that throne room one day, my King would knight me. He would soon relieve me of my armor by warmly pouring it all into my soul so that I may add to the perfection of His Kingdom, all the while protecting me even more fully with His loving arms that would embrace me for the rest of time. 

[Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders. In a loud voice they sang:

     “Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain,

     to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength

     and honor and glory and praise!”

Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, singing:

     “To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb

     be praise and honor and glory and power,

               for ever and ever!” Revelation 5:11-13]