everything fades in the light of Your glory.
everything burns in the fire of Your word.
creation shakes when You respond to my voice--
You've never failed a promise,
never denied Your word.
You arm me with strength
because my hands are clean.
God,
my safe place--
i call to You
only You can save.
death comes around me
but You stand before me.
fill my mouth with the spirit of deliverance,
my hands with the tools for war.
i will speak Your liberty.
Your song is my slingshot.
Your word is my stone--
Jesus--
cornerstone.
i will release the song of the Lord,
fell the giant,
cast the mountain in the sea.
i will go out with a shout,
dance with all my might,
embrace the lowest place.
my dance is a march on the neck of my enemy.
my dance is a procession on the head of captivity.
--thoughts on 2 samuel 22
Showing posts with label warrior. Show all posts
Showing posts with label warrior. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
the burning tribe
The age of the warriors has come again.
I stand watch on the wall and see them coming--men and women with faces bronzed and glowing in the light of the Son. I see young children marked by destiny who've willingly laid aside childish things for the wisdom of eternity. I see young adults, hiding in humility, pressing forward in power. They have received their assignment; they break rank for no one. The ground trembles beneath the weight of their march.
These are the holy ones. They have made a covenant with their eyes, and they stick to it. They are the definition of radical. They are an army marked by who they are, not who they could be. They are known more for their reality than for their potential.
They have embraced the power of pain--pressing into the ache, leaning into the groan. They know the strength that suffering perfects. It is a badge they wear with honor.
They beat their bodies into submission. Their spirits are honed sharp through fasting and prayer. They position themselves between the living and the dead. They fight with passion. They progress with persistence. They never miss their mark.
These are the ones who live in the wilderness. They are the modern-day Nazarites. They live to be extreme. Try to tell them they're sacrificing too much--they won't listen. They love with everything, and give everything out of that love. They answer solely to One.
They don't fit in, but they recognize each other. They are fiercely loyal to their community and their calling. Find one and you will find others--shoulders pressed together, shields up, arms interlocked, hearts bound by blood. They make it their business to live for more than themselves. They join ranks with the faithful.
They shun labels, ignore titles, shrug off names. Life is their platform. Jesus is their goal. They are steady, relentless, strong, unstoppable. They always win because they never give up. Failure is not an option. Glory in success belongs exclusively to their Father.
Once you've heard their cry, you'll never forget it. They rage with a yell that comes again, and again, and again, and again, and again from their core--from the emotions at the heart of God Himself. They've pledged their lives to a cause. They live in preparation and longing.
And their cry has been heard. The day is coming when the Great One will come, and He will not be held back from them. Everyone will see the reunion; it will crush ambivalence and engage every heart either for or against. And He will win.
Are you ready?
I stand watch on the wall and see them coming--men and women with faces bronzed and glowing in the light of the Son. I see young children marked by destiny who've willingly laid aside childish things for the wisdom of eternity. I see young adults, hiding in humility, pressing forward in power. They have received their assignment; they break rank for no one. The ground trembles beneath the weight of their march.
These are the holy ones. They have made a covenant with their eyes, and they stick to it. They are the definition of radical. They are an army marked by who they are, not who they could be. They are known more for their reality than for their potential.
They have embraced the power of pain--pressing into the ache, leaning into the groan. They know the strength that suffering perfects. It is a badge they wear with honor.
They beat their bodies into submission. Their spirits are honed sharp through fasting and prayer. They position themselves between the living and the dead. They fight with passion. They progress with persistence. They never miss their mark.
These are the ones who live in the wilderness. They are the modern-day Nazarites. They live to be extreme. Try to tell them they're sacrificing too much--they won't listen. They love with everything, and give everything out of that love. They answer solely to One.
They don't fit in, but they recognize each other. They are fiercely loyal to their community and their calling. Find one and you will find others--shoulders pressed together, shields up, arms interlocked, hearts bound by blood. They make it their business to live for more than themselves. They join ranks with the faithful.
They shun labels, ignore titles, shrug off names. Life is their platform. Jesus is their goal. They are steady, relentless, strong, unstoppable. They always win because they never give up. Failure is not an option. Glory in success belongs exclusively to their Father.
Once you've heard their cry, you'll never forget it. They rage with a yell that comes again, and again, and again, and again, and again from their core--from the emotions at the heart of God Himself. They've pledged their lives to a cause. They live in preparation and longing.
And their cry has been heard. The day is coming when the Great One will come, and He will not be held back from them. Everyone will see the reunion; it will crush ambivalence and engage every heart either for or against. And He will win.
Are you ready?
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
life in disguise
I finally went to see "The Dark Knight" last night, and have felt somewhat "haunted" ever since. Today, I feel extra observant while performing the most mundane tasks, I hear drums and trombones when I walk, and I keep waiting for the Joker to pop out of a trash can and ask, “Why so serious?”
Stories of vigilantes in disguise touch such a sympathetic chord within us. They are unlikely heroes, struggling to establish a dual identity, unrecognized for the weight of responsibility they carry. Aragons suppressing nobility to fight for a people who do not recognize their need. Frodos allowing the war raging around them to explode within in a conflict of desires as they press forward into their calling. Bruce Waynes hiding strength behind the masks of arrogant fops to better protect a people who hate them. Heroes who persist in helping even when they're not wanted. Heroes who would somehow seem less heroic if they lost their mystery.
Why does the “secret warrior” hold such a sway over our imaginations? Perhaps because it is a concept that first came to us from the heart of God Himself. Daniel 10 shows us the intensity of warfare that takes place when we pray, with the angel Gabriel breaking away from warring with the prince of Persia just long enough to deliver a message before returning to the fight. The villains in “real life” are more malicious than those in the movies; the most developed and chilling antagonist pales to two-dimensional in comparison. They have interminable resources. They do not listen to reason. They have no compassion. They touch our deepest vulnerabilities, creating confusion with glee, breaking our ranks, turning us against ourselves. They never sleep. They never stop looking for the chinks in our armor.
It’s enough to make you want to whip swords around your head and scream like a banshee while tackling every innocent bystander you see to the floor in an effort to protect them. Yet, Jesus called us to do massive exploits in private, tucked away in prayer rooms, unsung and uncelebrated. Peter was well acquainted with the concept of a double-identity when he wrote about being a royal priesthood (1 Peter 2:9). Peter, tossed into a reeking prison, beaten, crucified upside down and writing in a time where Christians regularly faced martyrdom, probably didn’t look like a royal son of the ultimate King.
But that’s the way the kingdom works, isn’t it? The last become first. The good deeds done in secret are rewarded openly. True believers esteem others as better than themselves. The King of the ages washes feet.
When I think about the person who hurt me and choose to offer up a silent prayer of blessing over their lives, I’m taking up arms. When I pay my electric bill with gratefulness that God provided the resources I needed, I’m assaulting oppression. When I pass a stranger on the sidewalk and whisper a request that the eyes of their understanding would be enlightened and they would see Jesus for who He is, I’m wrestling for eternal life.
Today, I'm not simply one of millions of Americans working a nine-to-five in countless cities across the country. Nor am I "just" the damsel-in-distress waiting in peril for Batman/Superman/Spiderman to swoop in and save me just in time.
No. Today I am poised, alert, and fierce--with a touch of scorn for injustice. I am the defender. I am the warrior. You just can't see it on the outside.
Stories of vigilantes in disguise touch such a sympathetic chord within us. They are unlikely heroes, struggling to establish a dual identity, unrecognized for the weight of responsibility they carry. Aragons suppressing nobility to fight for a people who do not recognize their need. Frodos allowing the war raging around them to explode within in a conflict of desires as they press forward into their calling. Bruce Waynes hiding strength behind the masks of arrogant fops to better protect a people who hate them. Heroes who persist in helping even when they're not wanted. Heroes who would somehow seem less heroic if they lost their mystery.
Why does the “secret warrior” hold such a sway over our imaginations? Perhaps because it is a concept that first came to us from the heart of God Himself. Daniel 10 shows us the intensity of warfare that takes place when we pray, with the angel Gabriel breaking away from warring with the prince of Persia just long enough to deliver a message before returning to the fight. The villains in “real life” are more malicious than those in the movies; the most developed and chilling antagonist pales to two-dimensional in comparison. They have interminable resources. They do not listen to reason. They have no compassion. They touch our deepest vulnerabilities, creating confusion with glee, breaking our ranks, turning us against ourselves. They never sleep. They never stop looking for the chinks in our armor.
It’s enough to make you want to whip swords around your head and scream like a banshee while tackling every innocent bystander you see to the floor in an effort to protect them. Yet, Jesus called us to do massive exploits in private, tucked away in prayer rooms, unsung and uncelebrated. Peter was well acquainted with the concept of a double-identity when he wrote about being a royal priesthood (1 Peter 2:9). Peter, tossed into a reeking prison, beaten, crucified upside down and writing in a time where Christians regularly faced martyrdom, probably didn’t look like a royal son of the ultimate King.
But that’s the way the kingdom works, isn’t it? The last become first. The good deeds done in secret are rewarded openly. True believers esteem others as better than themselves. The King of the ages washes feet.
When I think about the person who hurt me and choose to offer up a silent prayer of blessing over their lives, I’m taking up arms. When I pay my electric bill with gratefulness that God provided the resources I needed, I’m assaulting oppression. When I pass a stranger on the sidewalk and whisper a request that the eyes of their understanding would be enlightened and they would see Jesus for who He is, I’m wrestling for eternal life.
Today, I'm not simply one of millions of Americans working a nine-to-five in countless cities across the country. Nor am I "just" the damsel-in-distress waiting in peril for Batman/Superman/Spiderman to swoop in and save me just in time.
No. Today I am poised, alert, and fierce--with a touch of scorn for injustice. I am the defender. I am the warrior. You just can't see it on the outside.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
speedy justice
So I'm listening to this wonderful teaching by Dwayne Roberts about persistence in prayer and how it often seems that we pray with no results. That is where I've felt I've been lately--praying and praying with no perceptible change in my environment (although, admittedly, there have been changes in myself). It gets tiring and I often struggle with the question, "what's the use?"
One of the passages in the message is that of the unjust judge in Luke 18, and the promise the Lord gives to "avenge" his chosen ones speedily. I like the way the New Living Translation puts verse 7:
What I fight the most in my times of prayer is the discouragement that comes from the lie of Satan that I'm not making any difference. Jesus promises us here that if we will press on and plead with Him day and night, through His mighty power and with signs and wonders He will justify our commitment to prayer and punish the enemy for the lies he whispers.
Press on, and God bless!
One of the passages in the message is that of the unjust judge in Luke 18, and the promise the Lord gives to "avenge" his chosen ones speedily. I like the way the New Living Translation puts verse 7:
"...don't you think God will surely give justice to his chosen people who plead
with him day and night?"
What I fight the most in my times of prayer is the discouragement that comes from the lie of Satan that I'm not making any difference. Jesus promises us here that if we will press on and plead with Him day and night, through His mighty power and with signs and wonders He will justify our commitment to prayer and punish the enemy for the lies he whispers.
Press on, and God bless!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)