Right now, I do not feel like “more than a conqueror.” You see I suck at discipline, I cave easily and I hate it. It is no fun feeling like I have no control, and even worse knowing that I am the root of my own problem, I had a choice, and I made the wrong decision. There once was a boy who continually lied to his Papa, and boy did it break his Papa’s heart, because you see the son always made the same squinting face whenever he would lie to Papa, so it was always a dead give-away. The lies were never that huge, just small things like telling Papa that he finished all of his meal, or brushed his teeth.The more the boy made up stories the better he felt he was getting at making them up, and the guilt that originally came with lying to Papa was no longer there. With that the lies also got bigger, and as they grew bigger the boy’s eyes felt open and in one moment the boy knew that something had to change.
The problem was that now lying had become compulsive, and even after he apologized to Papa for all the times in the past he had lied and Papa forgave him and uttered to his son a few words (“You are mine. You are forgiven. The fight is over.”) but his tears were too thick to listen, he kept telling inaccurate accounts of everything. Oh how he wanted to change, but it felt impossible, it felt out of control, he felt worn. But he kept trying but every time, before he could speak the truth about the weather he would walk away with another letdown tying down his heart. As he walked in the front porch filled with defeat the boy is greeted by Papa who holds him in his arms and says, “You are mine. You are forgiven. The fight is over.” Paul put it this way, “No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.” I do not feel like more than a conqueror, I feel pretty weak, but if I live off of feeling I am screwed. I live off of my identity in Jesus. I have to. I need to. I am not a victim, I am a Victor, the difference though is not “not sinning” the difference is a change in address. I used to be found in the slums, now I am found in a garden. That does not mean I don’t pursue living a righteous life, but what it means more is that I pursue the one who gave me my new home, Jesus. His blood bought it, and His resurrection sealed it. My Dad is proud of me because He sees Jesus when He sees me. I love my Dad. So no more struggling, no more “living off of feelings.” I am His. I am forgiven. The fight is over.