Adorned with stripes of glory, a robe of royalty flowing in winds of admiration, a man stands among the masses. He wears his helmet securely, evidence that battle has been a close friend. His once glistening breastplate is marred by burns of indignation and public opinion, his shield dented in by bankruptcy and ridicule. His belt hangs tattered from seasons of deception and confusion, and marathons of endurance have worn his shoes.
But in the glistening of victory, his sword rises above his head. It drips with the blood of his own failures, its sharpness no duller than the penetrating strength of the Word. His sword testifies to the enduring work of the Lord, the burning that never left his heart.
He surveys the souls he has led, the strongholds he has fought against, and the standards he has given his life to defend. And as he remembers the years of solitude, misunderstanding, and accusation that plagued his formative years, his knees begin to buckle.
His raised arm begin to descend, and as the sparkle of relief fills his eyes, a quietness spreads across the masses. They are looking upon the face of a conqueror.
Without notice, a roar so profound so divine, cultivated in the depths of a man of sorrow and sacrifice pierces the ears of heaven. Like an incense offering, from the heart of such bravery and courage arises a hymn of gratitude and humility. And in completion, his knees strike the ground and his armor makes its final rattle. They look upon this man in reverent silence and whisper in their hearts,
“Surely, this is a man of God.”
Am I to believe that this is the promise God has proclaimed over my life? Have I lived a life that qualifies me for such greatness? Or is it rebellion, pure foolishness to challenge and doubt the declaration of Truth?
Though my reality mocks the hope of God and my mind brings charges against me, I’ll trust in the promise. One day, a servant like me would one day bring glory to Him so Divine. “For when I am weak, then I am strong.”