Sunday, July 27, 2014

Batlefield

Dressed in his best
Angel of light costume
He strides into the throne room
No bouncers with well-defined biceps
And dark suits bar his way
Even the Archangel Michael
With his flaming sword steps aside

He is vexed to have to seek permission
To sift the saved
He takes his cause before
The throne of heaven
It’s not in his nature to ask
And he’s not at home before
The One he once adored

He comes away with the authority
To cause damage
To ransack and dismantle faith
To shred souls
And God’s children surrender their footholds
Arming him with their inflated egos
Petty jealousies and resentments

His success is not guaranteed
Because he knows the Son prays
Not to undo the his plans
Or to bind his work and loose angels
Nor to break a curse
And pull down strongholds
The Son prays for His own

He prays that
Their faith will not fail
That the purpose of God in their lives
Will be fulfilled
He prays for turned hearts and anchored lives
For resilience and transformation
And a community built and flourishing

The Son of God prays and
Satan lies to himself that he can yet win



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