Treasure

When The Salesman asked me to take a spur-of-the-moment trip this week, I searched my drafts and found this treasure to share.  May the word “Treasure” minister to you as it ministered to me when this was written in January 2015.  I was thinking of and praying for a particular friend when I wrote this piece, and how fitting it is for another friend, this current day.  The enemy is up to nothing new. And the Word brings life. Hallelujah!

“G – a –  r –  b –  a –  g –  e”

The word is carefully strung on the bow and the fingers of evil pull back the arrow and send it twirling toward its intended, specific target: the heart, the soul, the very core of her being, her belief system and rips the tattered barrier with such force as it again pierces the bulls eye.

There was a time, long ago now, that the word would have made her cry out in wails and shrieks; but, those days are gone.  The word can not deflate her beyond flat and lifeless.  The litter of her soul is like a battlefield of wounded waiting for a nurse. So fierce is the battle. So many are injured. Stretcher upon stretcher, wounded and weary.

Then another word came floating by. She’d grown numb at the sound of words. So much destruction had already been delivered. But this word had been kindly and truly and carefully knitted together by fingers of love and stitched with such intention that it reverberated:

“T r e a s u r e”

“T r e a s u r e”

Did you hear that? She turns her head immediately to the side, not even willing to believe that this word is intended for her.  The target of her being has been ripped wide open by the arrows of the evil one and, in a battle she no longer fights, she shields no attacks from her core. Can the mangled target even be made out to anyone now? She believes that she is the target and just as the opposition begins to start the victory party, she recalls the gentle word she heard:

“T r e a s u r e”

“If only you could see yourself from My perspective,” and then the word so foreign to her ears, floats by again:

“Treasure”

The Nurse has arrived.  Help, healing, Truth. And like water to the weary soul, she drinks in the word to her being, to her now ripped open and exposed core:

“Treasure.”

Lord,
You see me
For who YOU intended me to be,
Not the left-for-dead
In the enemy’s stead.
Darkness, evil – it painted a target on me
Your loving Word and words set me free.
You heal –
It is Your will –
You heal.
Your Word speaks balm.
Your Spirit brings calm.
Your Son takes His hand in mine.
You, God, are divine.
You tend to the wounded on the battlefield
You are my hope, my life source, my shield.
You tend to the wounded on the battlefield.
Amen. And amen.