Is there anything more powerful?
To heal, to hurt,
Words in my mind-accusing me,
dragging me down
into guilt and helplessness.
Words from outside-attacking me,
tearing at the fragile image of who I am and hope to be.
I struggle under their heavy weight
and fear I’ll suffocate.
Not all words are true, but they feel true.
Some are lies wrought in the basement of hell,
sent to defeat those who march in the army of God.
My leader warned me of such warfare,
so subtle and hard to detect.
A sudden attack strips my defenses.
I am left to die.
Now my fate depends on
to whom I choose to listen.
To the liar,
or to my leader.
His Word consoles and strengthens me,
binding my pain and wrapping me in acceptance.
He does not condemn me in my weakness,
or require me to run on broken legs.
He asks only that I listen to him
and believe what he says.
His truth banishes falsehoods
and sets me free.
Living on the battlefield isn’t kind and gentle;
it is demanding and stretching.
I must often pause and ask myself,
To whose voice do I listen?
And in whose voice do I speak?