Beneath my calm physique rages a war of faith and fear, as I wonder what the next moment holds for me. As I whisper a prayer I take one last bulldog grip to His Word. I search until I find every ounce of His strength that dwells within me. “I know my faith seems as a whooped faith that cannot possess the heart of the battle that lies before me, but I will fight… live or die. Jesus, I read in Your word where You are the Over comer, and that You are seated at the right hand of the Father while He prepares the earth to be Your footstool. I read where all things are placed under Your feet, and where the Church is Your Body, therefore making all things able to be under my feet also. Lord, I do feel seemingly overcome right now, but I believe with the last drop of faith in me that though I am overcome I am still an Over comer. I simply refuse to settle for anything less. I will fight until I see You. This is the humble last stand of my whooped faith. I know you are working. Amen.”
No comments:
Post a Comment