And if books had playlists...This Soldier was crowned with no medals, no awards, no rank; but became lowly, crowned with the sin of all in the earth in all time, and everything was fulfilled and conquered. The previous P.O.W. climbed that hill of my soul, planting the flag for all to see:
She is mine. I have conquered this flesh, conquered all sickness and pain in her body, conquered and redeemed all. I am not still in negotiation over the terms of the enemy's defeat, nor the terms of her freedom and reconciliation to the Father.
It. Is. Finished. All finished. All received. All written on the deepest roots of her being. Remember. Remember My victory. Remember My complete victory. Remember it is yours. You already have the fulness of My victory. You don't have to earn it.
Write it on your eyes. Write it on your ears.The victory is won. The victory is received.
Sometimes it's easier to remember than others.
SometimesMany times I forget, and step back into chains that no longer have the ability to hold fast to me, chains that don't fit. And I stand there seemingly immovable in old bondage that hangs open with His name of freedom engraved on every inch.
Other times when it's difficult to remember is when He is quiet.Quiet, winter season of soul.No reason to be grasped by finite minds, just "My grace is sufficient for you," and stillness.Meant for burrowing faces so deep in the knowing He is for you, always. Meant for clinging.
But when the snow is thick in the season, and ears have not been warmed by words of comfort, words of revelation, words of direction...
I yell out to my God, I yell with all my might, I yell at the top of my lungs. He listens.
I found myself in trouble and went looking for my Lord; my life was an open wound that wouldn't heal. When friends said, "Everything will turn out all right," I didn't believe a word they said. I remember God—and shake my head. I bow my head—then wring my hands. I'm awake all night—not a wink of sleep; I can't even say what's bothering me. I go over the days one by one, I ponder the years gone by. I strum my lute all through the night, wondering how to get my life together.
Will the Lord walk off and leave us for good? Will he never smile again? Is his love worn threadbare? Has his salvation promise burned out? Has God forgotten his manners? Has he angrily stalked off and left us? "Just my luck," I said. "The High God goes out of business just the moment I need him."
So once again I'll go over what God has done, lay out on the table the ancient wonders; I'll ponder all the things you've accomplished, and give a long, loving look at your acts.
O God! Your way is holy! No god is great like God! You're the God who makes things happen; you showed everyone what you can do— You pulled your people out of the worst kind of trouble, rescued the children of Jacob and Joseph.
Ocean saw you in action, God, saw you and trembled with fear; Deep Ocean was scared to death. Clouds belched buckets of rain, Sky exploded with thunder, your arrows flashing this way and that. From Whirlwind came your thundering voice, Lightning exposed the world, Earth reeled and rocked. You strode right through Ocean, walked straight through roaring Ocean, but nobody saw you come or go.
Hidden in the hands of Moses and Aaron, You led your people like a flock of sheep.