I used to look around at all my pain
and wonder if God cared,
or if He was even there.
But I look back on the hundreds of scars now
and realize, without a doubt,
that the endless battles, the poisonous air,
the wildfires, the silent trauma, the unwept tears all testify 
to the size of the fear of God
that petrifies Lucifer’s mind
when I walk by.

The bum wouldn’t come for my life like it was his day job
if it wasn’t worth the payoff.

The wounds are not in spite of His love.
They are the direct result of it,
the proof of Hell’s objections to His providence,
failed attempts to pluck me from the Father’s immovable hand — 
dare I say 
that this temple 
is His trophy case,
and the wounds
are the trophies,
the testaments of every L Lucifer has taken,
and every time His grace has sustained me.

I lose my focus when I forget
I’m still here, 
my God is undefeated, 
and the dragon is too weak
to gain a victory that isn’t given to him.

If I am in Christ, 
and Christ is in me,
then the serpent can only bite my heel
if he is already beneath my feet.

Cover Photo by Ariel Besagar on Unsplash