In the difficult moments of life we trudge through.
Boots heavy, laces strapped and doubled.
The muscles in our legs out-strained by the muscles in our jaw;
Their tautness revealing far more than we would care to vocalise.
The world is a vacuum sometimes: solitary and claustrophobic.
Like stale air, negative thoughts surround us on all sides and we choke on the mind fog.
Beginning to believe the lies, we respond less like You and more like the ‘old man’.
The same ‘old man’ long buried under the weight of the cross,
Under the blood that was shed
And under the Lamb who arose and ascended.
Yet in those moments we hold out a decayed branch
And the ‘old man’ reaches out, one limb at a time.
The longer we leave the branch, his reaching out becomes a grasp
And his grasp a strong hold…
And then, with the Sword, You pinprick our bubble of introversion.
You invade it with a freshness, with Your light,
And like rippled air You change our field of vision.
‘..knowing this, that our old man was crucified with Him, that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves of sin. For he who has died has been freed from sin. Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with Him…’ -Romans 6:6-8