Physically there, I had just peeled off all my layers
after running outside for the first time this year.
Tired, weary, and sweaty. I sit and join the front line.
A man walks in carrying a stick, but it morphs into a sword in my eyes.
A sword of Truth.
He speaks, and my senses perk.
Calling others to a battle, his voice is louder than I have ever heard him use.
God given Words, edging their way into my thoughts and I sit captivated.
Speaking of the Holy, meditating on Him who is in us.
He fills the canvas.
A canvas that had been standing empty confident bare.
I leave after just the first hour, filled.
I giggle aloud in the car on the way home
if I come to the frontline for Him, or if He comes for me.
The conversation between God and I continues in the wee hours of the morning.
"So the sword is given to be polished,
that it may be grasped in the hand.
It is sharpened and polished
to be given in the hand of the slayer."
Prayer: words that give evil motivation to move out.
I am a slayer. A Warrior.
I defeat evil with confidence.
and He gets all the glory... again.