Saturday, October 19, 2013

Sick of it: A Word to the enemy

(Credit for the Title of this post goes to Skillet for their new song "Sick of it"). 

Exodus 17:11
English Standard Version (ESV)
11 Whenever Moses held up his hand, Israel prevailed, and whenever he lowered his hand, Amalek prevailed.

I'm tired of questions with no satisfactory answers, 
babies with cancer, life-changing diagnosis's, 
broken marriages with heartbroken people caught in the middle
of life. 

I'm sick of sick
people, and calls to sin that sound so appealing it's all I can do 
to say no. 
I'm sick of sore muscles, broken bodies, and lost souls. 
I'm sick of tears
and eyes sore from crying 
and speaking death
and seeing the dying 
reach for an eternity they are not sure they grasp. 

I'm sick of you enemy. 
And I've had enough. 
You will no longer make me question the goodness of God
because of the evil that you stir up. 
And when my heart stings because of a body
that’s betraying me,
and a friend whose pain is unfair and senseless,
And when my mind begins to question the goodness
of a God who died for me
because you make it seem like He’s the one to blame,
I have one thing to say,

I’m done with that, My God is good, He is Victorious. All of His promises are YES and AMEN and He is the source that never runs out. ALL things work together for the good of those who love Him, and are called according to His purpose, a purpose I may never know. But I know Him, and He wins.
And enemy?
When you tempt me to condemnation,
fear and guilt call to my heart
I choose to go to Him who is greater than my heart
and cry, not for answers, but for comfort, because the question
is not Why? It’s What now?

You are not even worth calling by name
but I do because I’m covered by blood
that means all your accusations and pain and lies
are baseless.

Blood that cried my name when it hung from a cross
and you thought you’d won,
Blood that covered broken marriages, and pointless diagnosis’s
and chaos
with purpose.

I raise my hands for my people.
I raise my hands as I watch the battle,
I raise my hands
to praise. Even though sometimes
I don’t want to.
I praise Jesus for breath every morning,
and strength to get dressed every morning.
I praise Jesus for community
and never being alone.
I praise Jesus for sore
because that means
I am if nothing else

I raise my hands
and call that which is not
as though it were.
Bones that are mended,
hearts that are healed,
and purpose to the hopeless
broken of the world.
I raise my hands and choose
Joy that pain is temporary,
and weeping only for a night.
I raise my hands and call for peace,
for the lost
that Jesus died for, and yet rose again.
For the precious Holy Spirit who tells me
there is a world out there
I do not see,
that is more real than I know.

I raise my hands and thank my Father
in the midst of pain that I still have no answers for
because when I do that I remember
enemy, that you lose.

I watch as friends battle
and I stand
hands raised
for them.
Because enemy
I know Victory
His name is Jesus.
And He is sweet, 

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