BATTLERS, in Australian terms, are those who struggle. They always seem to be battling. They may seem cursed, but their attitudes are often inspiring. They make nothing of their ‘lack of favour’.
It’s something akin to what a true believer is called to: to be a battler. But a true believer also stands on the right side of the resurrection — theirs is the victory in Jesus’ name.
Those of us in the Faith endure a spiritual conquest of the enemy. We’re highly regarded as targets for attack. But we have God on our side and the enemy knows he’s defeated! But we need to be reminded — by faith there’s the assurance of victory. Nothing surer.
Faith was made as a break-glass solution for times of ethereal war, even as we battle our inner selves, because we’re in that revelation of conflict. Faith meets anguish. When the battlefield reigns in our mind and owns the territory of our heart, faith journeys peacefully with and can reconcile that sorrowful, and sometimes unchanging truth.
It’s great for the Kingdom to be aware of the time we’re in — real warfare — and yet to not be so immobilised by fear: the battle’s won! We only have to claim the victory in our own lives. It’s done. It is finished! By faith God raises us spiritually even if by the moment — the ability to smile in the mess of it all, and to believe in the bigness of life.
And the truly good news is:
Faith seems irrelevant unless war ensues, hence its fundamental relevance in life. By faith there is peace in the battle, hope for victory, and staying power by purpose. Only by faith is there meaning for life. Life has no purpose without faith.
There is no hope without living by faith.
Faith is cogent weaponry in the battlefield of life. Hope admonishes despair. Joy’s chosen over sullenness. Peace pervades. But not despite the battle; in spite of it.
Faith is the corrective to life that seems unconscionable. It moderates and resolves confusion. It makes something of the lonely hopelessness in silence as it coalesces with the truth.
Faith is a friend no matter the battle.
© 2016 Steve Wickham.