Restoration

"Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world. And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, and strengthen, and establish you. To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen."
1 Peter 5:8-11

Never has this passage stood out to me as it does now.

I do not fully understand what is happening. I understand only that much has changed over the course of the past few weeks, and that my enemy is now attacking with a renewed force that I have not seen or felt in years. It hit Saturday morning like a freight train finally emerging from a tunnel after weeks of docile hiding. The familiar depression, the weight. Surprised as I was, I was ready. Resolute. Determination swelled.

This time will be different.

You won't have me this time. Not this time. Never, ever again. This is done.

Not because of my strength. I was foolish enough to pit myself against you toe-to-toe far too many times. No, it is not because of my strength that you have lost - it is because of my weakness. In my weakness, my king's strength is perfect. Perfect.

You are not my king.

And I am not who I once was.

I belong to Him.

You have beaten me down - He will restore me. You have lied to me about who I am - He will confirm me. You have assaulted me - He will strengthen me. You have debased and humiliated me - He will establish me.

I am His.

With a single word He spoke me into existence. As my still-forming heart poisoned itself and beat for the first time, He knit me together. And when I was born my broken and depraved spirit still bore the very image of the One who had crushed your head.

You paid a visit unexpectedly at work today. I could barely breathe. Couldn't even look up. It must have made you giddy to watch my spirit writhe in pain.

But then I heard Him. Time slowed as His whisper broke through the smoke and fire. His Word was there.

And I faced you, trembling, and echoed His words. I could feel you hesitate. I said His name.

Jesus.

I will not be that wounded little boy, that broken man forever. He is restoring me.

I will face you with tears flowing, with my spirit still writhing, soaked in His blood. The blood of Jesus.

Jesus.

Blood flows from His crown of thorns, cleansing my thoughts. Blood from His hands, cleansing that which I have touched. Blood from His feet, cleansing where I have walked. Blood from His back, cleansing the years I turned my back upon Him. Blood from His side, cleansing even that which is inside of me, that which I have wished for years that I could tear out and destroy. Even that which you have made every effort to cultivate.

And I stand facing you and all the horrors of Hell

redeemed

For my Jesus is already victorious.