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23rd of November

Remember


Face in hands, body bent in chair, I wept hard and long, pleading.

“Lord, we don’t know what to do!  We can’t see our way through!  Help us!” 

And the vision of Israelites leaving Egypt—backs against Red Sea, enemies approaching—this vision burned bright like pillar fire leading God’s chosen through dark nights. 
 
He said over and over, “Remember.”  Remember His deliverance to strengthen faith for the moment.

 
But I’m scared and hurt and steaming mad.  Our son, the one I held in my arms when four and flew across continent and ocean, to give real and permanent home—our son has crossed the line. 

I’ve told my children, “Don’t mess with snakes,” those slithering, lie-telling, promise-giving, life-killing, worship-demanding enemies of our souls.  These snakes love darkness and slink about holding artificial light enough to snatch us with their fangs or wrap us with their constricting coils and drag us into darkness where we die, poisoned or suffocated.  Does the means of death really matter?  Death is death.   

And snakes can kill those in whom they have sunk no fangs.  Snakes can kill with fear.  We watch as our loved one is dragged away without mercy.  We see his helpless face, still conscious.  We cry because he has chosen to play with snakes and he’s caught and being swallowed alive before our very eyes. 

I howl at the snake who has my boy, “LET HIM GO!  GIVE HIM BACK!

But snakes aren’t givers.  They’re takers.  They give nothing but empty promises until they bite hard and take hold—and the slow, agonizing, death process begins. Then, the death rattling snake sneers gratified.   

Another one down.  Another one gone.  Sealed with a hiss . . . .

But not this one. 

No!  Not THIS one! 

I am his mother.  No power of hell can overcome a mother who knows Christ.

Battle cry rises from some long untouched depth—a guttural, primal groan against evil threatening young.  Battle cry rings out of mother mouth and through red-rimmed swollen eyes and furrowed, determined brow.  Battle cry shakes, yet she stands and declares . . .

I will NOT wave white flag to anyone or anything other than my God, the ONLY God who created all, even YOU!  This time, you have sunk your fangs into the wrong family!  Let me introduce myself to you, you slithering, suffocating fool.

I am a warrior princess of the King Most High who has called Heaven’s armies to go with me and fight this fight of war already won.  My Father commissioned me!  I ride His horse into this battle and carry the victorious sword of His word.

So listen well, all you demons of hell!

YOU SHALL NOT HAVE HIM!  He is OURS!  He belongs to our King of Kings who has already crushed your head!  You know that full well. You may have won this battle but you have not won this war!  It is finished.  Our God and King felled you complete at the cross.  You must give him up, in the name of Jesus!
 

 

This day, I will remember God’s deliverance past. 

This day, I will remember who I am.

I AM THE KING’S DAUGHTER—a princess—a warrior—His love.  Transfused with His glory and power to pray, I wield His Word, my great sword.  Ephesian armor secure, I will go forth with God’s holy army.  Battle blows may come, but none will deter me.  The war is already won.

What are the battles you face this day?

Remember God delivers.  He delivered then, He will deliver now—His way, in His time, for His glory and—always—for our good.   

Remember who you are.  You a royal child of the Most High King!  BE who He says you are! 

Remember the war is already won! 

Believe it and claim your victory in Him.

Today.

 

 

Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.  John 1:12

Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in His glory. 
Romans 8:17

Many are saying of me, “God will not deliver him.”  But you are a shield around me, O LORD: you bestow glory on my and lift up my head . . . From the LORD comes deliverance.  Psalm 3:2-4, 8

Psalm 18—all of it,  The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my delivererer. . .

Ephesians 6:10-18, describes holy armor and where to place each piece.

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Categories:  hope trusting God

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Come stroll the trails with me on our 44 acre Midwest horse farm where I seek God in the ordinary and always find Him--the Extraordinary--wooing, teaching, wowing me with Himself. Thanks for visiting. I hope you will be blessed!

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