His battlefield (happy Easter)

Overwhelmed by the weight we eagerly place on our shoulders every day, and consumed by life’s glimpses of love- I fall back into my seat and remember that’s not how it’s supposed to be. The breadth of my arms is not wide enough for the enemy’s antics, nor is my back strong enough to endure its’ rage. These hands of mine are too fragile for miracles, and my feet won’t last a night of the cold ground. We have this exhausting sense of power over the wrecked things of this world that we often fall in defeat because we are too prideful to ask for help.

The beautiful, undeserving fact is that it is not us who endure the vile we proclaim to handle. Let me explain. Close your eyes for me and picture every evil, hateful, sinful thing that you have ever experienced, done yourself, or witnessed and place them on a battle field. Make them a team, and give them weapons. Now triple that to account for two other people.

On the other side, place one man. No weapons. No one to defend him. Fire the gun, and watch the sin devour him. Picture the immensity, the brutality, of what that battle field might look like.

Now open your eyes, and instead think of that man on a wooden cross.

This weak, feeble body I walk around in is not my own. It is His, and His alone. That cross represents the sacrifice that we could never fathom; a heart that has never sinned, never gossiped, judged, or fell under any temptation took on the death that only we deserved, and still deserve. Would you have taken His place?

His death and resurrection mean I no longer am my own strength. His sacrifice destroyed the grip that death and sin had on us so this tangible body is nothing but ashes. It is not my job to let the wrath of this world bruise me, He has already destroyed its power. The purest and honest moment of our corrupt nature, was also the greatest act of love there ever could be. When He rose again, light pierced through a darkness that hovered around the world, and it is untouchable to this day.

I lift my hands and fall to my knees in ultimate praise, to have set me free from this austere sense of pride. My life is His, so I no longer must carry the weight.

James Stewart:

“It is a glorious phrase of the New Testament, that ‘he led captivity captive.’ The very triumphs of His foes, it means, he used for their defeat. He compelled their dark achievements to subserve his end, not theirs. They nailed him to the tree, not knowing that by that very act they were bringing the world to his feet. They gave him a cross, not guessing that he would make it a throne. They flung him outside the gates to die, not knowing that in that very moment they were lifting up all the gates of the universe, to let the King of Glory come in. They thought to root out his doctrines, not understanding that they were implanting imperishably in the hearts of men the very name they intended to destroy. They thought they had defeated God with His back to the wall, pinned and helpless and defeated: they did not know that it was God Himself who had tracked them down. He did not conquer in spite of the dark mystery of evil. He conquered through it.”

3 thoughts on “His battlefield (happy Easter)

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