Victorious
The grass has been pounded into the hard earth by hundreds of thousands of passing, trampling feet. That's fine. The grass was dead anyway, already brown and wilting in the bright sunlight. A slight breeze whispers through the air, carrying with it the unmistakable charge of electricity. Of anticipation.
As the wind whispers through the part of my hair that has escaped from my helmet, it brings with it the scent of the impending fight. There is not an actual odor to it, nothing that can be described. It is more a feeling. As though lightning could strike me at any second, though the sky is bright and clear with only the faintest wisps of pearly white cotton balls to mark the endless sea of blue. I peer into the sky as the sunlight glints off of my armor, then glance at the hill in front of me.
The enemy is just over that hill. I know it. We all know it. And I daresay the enemy knows we're coming. A few more steps and I will see the standards. A few more steps and I will top the hill.
Our own banner undulates in the breeze. The bright colors match the happy rhythm. The banner knows no fear. No trepidation. It is ready for the battle. It has not been here before. Not like I have.
It is all I can do to take another step up that hill as the memories assault me. They threaten to take me out of the fight before it has even started, which is precisely what the enemy wants. Still it haunts me, the spectre of last year. Last year, when the battle was so very overwhelming.
The scars are still there, still pink even. I would question the wisdom of my Commander allowing me to reenter the fight so quickly if I did not trust Him as I do. My heart beats faster. Lub lub lub lub. The rhythm says its name. I take another step.
Why am I doing this to myself? I could turn around right now and go home where it is nice and safe and... except it wasn't ever really that, was it? And besides, I am no coward. I am no quitter. And I am not meaningless. I want to do this, though there is some trepidation. I want to matter. I want to present my Commander with this victory. It's what I've always wanted. Though I've never relished pain.
But I know I'll survive. I always survive. My Commander is wise in that way. He does not throw people into battles willy-nilly, heedless of their needs or desires to live. He desires us to live even more than we do ourselves, and so He is strategic in His placement of us in the field. This is my place. My battle. My victory to claim, or not, as I choose.
Because it will be a victory. Of that I am sure. I've been promised this victory and I will not leave it lying in the dust to be taken by another when it was always meant for me. It is mine. I demand it. I command it!
Yet last year, that perceived failure, makes me wonder. How many more scars can one person bear? I have learned so much since the last battle, but I am far from perfect. I know I will still make mistakes, and I might be cut here or there. I remember the pain. I don't want to go through that again!
But my desire to please my Commander supersedes my desire to avoid pain. This gives me the courage to enter the fray, to take another step. It's just there, now, the summit. Three more paces and I'll see the enemy. Will the sight of them cut me off at the knees? What strength do they have? What weapons?
One. My Commander whispers in my ear. He has equipped me. He believes in me. I am ready.
Two. My Commander smiles at me. I did not fail last time. Last year is not a failure. I fought for Him, didn't I? And I am back again.
Three. I reach the crest of the hill and look out at the battlefield below where the enemy awaits. My eyes scan the darkened valley, taking in the large number of powers and principalities. As I look at them, my eyes widen. Never have I seen such a sight in all my days. I sneak a glance at my comrades in arms, wondering if they see what I see. I then glance up into the eyes of my Commander who is, as always, right beside me.
"I don't understand," I say.
"They're dead," He replies. "They've always been dead. I defeated them a long time ago. They make you think they're alive and powerful. They twist your mind and feelings with lies of past losses. But you haven't lost anything. You cannot lose as long as you are on My side. And We are still here! You are fighting dead things. See them as they really are." And He gestures with His right hand toward the battlefield, and I examine the enemy more closely.
Weapons lay splayed along the field, rusting. They have not been used in a long time. Swords, shields, and helmets are caked with dirt and grime. Bows lay unstrung, the strings long since carried away by carrion birds. Gaunt faces look up at me, their mouths opening and no sound coming out. I can no longer hear their lies. I will no longer heed their false words. They no longer have the authority to speak into my life. I am free to walk among them, knowing that, though I walk into the heart of Babylon, I need fear no evil, for my Commander goes with me. His Word and Spirit keep me pure. He has prepared a table before me in the presence of my silent enemies and He has established my authority. As I walk, goodness and mercy are left in my wake, and my being runs over with the Spirit of my Father. And I will dwell with Him forever. Victorious.
As the wind whispers through the part of my hair that has escaped from my helmet, it brings with it the scent of the impending fight. There is not an actual odor to it, nothing that can be described. It is more a feeling. As though lightning could strike me at any second, though the sky is bright and clear with only the faintest wisps of pearly white cotton balls to mark the endless sea of blue. I peer into the sky as the sunlight glints off of my armor, then glance at the hill in front of me.
The enemy is just over that hill. I know it. We all know it. And I daresay the enemy knows we're coming. A few more steps and I will see the standards. A few more steps and I will top the hill.
Our own banner undulates in the breeze. The bright colors match the happy rhythm. The banner knows no fear. No trepidation. It is ready for the battle. It has not been here before. Not like I have.
It is all I can do to take another step up that hill as the memories assault me. They threaten to take me out of the fight before it has even started, which is precisely what the enemy wants. Still it haunts me, the spectre of last year. Last year, when the battle was so very overwhelming.
The scars are still there, still pink even. I would question the wisdom of my Commander allowing me to reenter the fight so quickly if I did not trust Him as I do. My heart beats faster. Lub lub lub lub. The rhythm says its name. I take another step.
Why am I doing this to myself? I could turn around right now and go home where it is nice and safe and... except it wasn't ever really that, was it? And besides, I am no coward. I am no quitter. And I am not meaningless. I want to do this, though there is some trepidation. I want to matter. I want to present my Commander with this victory. It's what I've always wanted. Though I've never relished pain.
But I know I'll survive. I always survive. My Commander is wise in that way. He does not throw people into battles willy-nilly, heedless of their needs or desires to live. He desires us to live even more than we do ourselves, and so He is strategic in His placement of us in the field. This is my place. My battle. My victory to claim, or not, as I choose.
Because it will be a victory. Of that I am sure. I've been promised this victory and I will not leave it lying in the dust to be taken by another when it was always meant for me. It is mine. I demand it. I command it!
Yet last year, that perceived failure, makes me wonder. How many more scars can one person bear? I have learned so much since the last battle, but I am far from perfect. I know I will still make mistakes, and I might be cut here or there. I remember the pain. I don't want to go through that again!
But my desire to please my Commander supersedes my desire to avoid pain. This gives me the courage to enter the fray, to take another step. It's just there, now, the summit. Three more paces and I'll see the enemy. Will the sight of them cut me off at the knees? What strength do they have? What weapons?
One. My Commander whispers in my ear. He has equipped me. He believes in me. I am ready.
Two. My Commander smiles at me. I did not fail last time. Last year is not a failure. I fought for Him, didn't I? And I am back again.
Three. I reach the crest of the hill and look out at the battlefield below where the enemy awaits. My eyes scan the darkened valley, taking in the large number of powers and principalities. As I look at them, my eyes widen. Never have I seen such a sight in all my days. I sneak a glance at my comrades in arms, wondering if they see what I see. I then glance up into the eyes of my Commander who is, as always, right beside me.
"I don't understand," I say.
"They're dead," He replies. "They've always been dead. I defeated them a long time ago. They make you think they're alive and powerful. They twist your mind and feelings with lies of past losses. But you haven't lost anything. You cannot lose as long as you are on My side. And We are still here! You are fighting dead things. See them as they really are." And He gestures with His right hand toward the battlefield, and I examine the enemy more closely.
Weapons lay splayed along the field, rusting. They have not been used in a long time. Swords, shields, and helmets are caked with dirt and grime. Bows lay unstrung, the strings long since carried away by carrion birds. Gaunt faces look up at me, their mouths opening and no sound coming out. I can no longer hear their lies. I will no longer heed their false words. They no longer have the authority to speak into my life. I am free to walk among them, knowing that, though I walk into the heart of Babylon, I need fear no evil, for my Commander goes with me. His Word and Spirit keep me pure. He has prepared a table before me in the presence of my silent enemies and He has established my authority. As I walk, goodness and mercy are left in my wake, and my being runs over with the Spirit of my Father. And I will dwell with Him forever. Victorious.
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