EASIER

Now I see why Lucifer, without difficulty, lures us to sleep while our believing brothers and sisters are slaughtered like sheep. 

It’s so much easier to have Christian songs play on repeat than to worry ourselves with the innocent blood being spilled in the street. 

Now I see why we stay like babies drinking only milk while entire generations lose destiny as they’re killed. 

It’s so much easier to sleep on sheets of silk than to enter His heart and have to feel. 

Now I see why we dance in circles with our sin.

Sin. Repent. Sin. Repent. Sin. We never conquer ourselves. 

We never win. 

It’s so much easier to cry when we feel His forgiving river again and again wash us clean than it is to weep and wail for a nation of people who know no God who could do such a thing. 

Now I see why we stay in the ring to fight our iniquities and repeatedly get outdone, and we are haunted by these sin cycles like shadows every time we step into the sun. 

It’s so much easier to face our own demons than to war against a nation’s principality of legions. 

Now I see why Satan, without challenge, leads us into the endless pit of self while we neatly organize the horrific truth of Hell on the shelf. 

It’s so much easier to fall asleep in our own salvation than to lay down our lives to prevent their damnation. 

Now I see why we convince ourselves that the label of Christianity is enough while they are starved and we are stuffed. 

Bibles with many covers of many colors filled with words we will never do. This is so much easier than me giving my life for you! So much easier than sacrificing my plate of food. 

Don’t throw stones! It’s time for groans, and it’s time for conviction. 

It’s time to pick up your cross and forsake your religion. 

I know. Your life for theirs. It’s not fair. I see.

But Jesus did the unfair for you and me. 

He denied the way of the Pharisee. 

I know. This meat is hard to chew, but trust the God in me. It’s good for you. 

Find your altar. Find your floor.

Find your battle and wage war. 

Our God. He is the One who hears cries and answers. Lay down your hamburger and fries and lift up your standard. 

This River of Living Water is reserved for Son and Daughter. 

Put down your pen, and let God be the Author.

Then, you can walk in the footsteps of the Man you talk so much about. 

Then, the world will hear your preaching when you never open your mouth. 

Lay down your life. Pick up your cross.

Become His bride. Stop grieving your cost. 

Then, you will share in His heart and Lucifer’s schemes against your passion, you’ll rip apart. 

Then, you will produce His fruit and strike with an axe Satan’s root.

You will no longer be Sleeping Beauty dead to Life. You will become the light of this world. Your new signature:

The Beloved’s Wife. 

Dear Complacency.

Complacency,

I know your relation to counterfeit comfort, and I know you speak in whispers. 

I know you rub passion raw, and I know how you leave blisters. 

I know you approach with ease and caution, and I know you're on a mission.

I know you enjoy sleeping to death, and I know how you steal vision. 

I know how you encourage paved roads, and I know how you lead the masses.

I know you are a liar, and I know you turn fire to ashes. 

I know you linger in deserts, and I know you love dry places.

I know you like cold hearts in the chest, and I know you love dead faces.

I know you hide in self satisfaction, and I know you hide in entertainment.

I know you hide in inner pride, and I know you live for containment. 

I know you celebrate the possible, and I know you flee from faith. 

I know you've longed to consume me, but I know you made a mistake. 

I know you. You don't know me like you think you do. 

You plot in silence, and you work hard. I do too. 

I know you. I know you wish to drain the blood from my veins. 

I know you. I have watched you manufacture comfortable chains. 

I know you. I have watched you slaughter dreams on the altar of mediocrity. 

The galaxies swim in my soul, and their fireworks are going off in me. 

The gold in me will never be found spilled at your altar. 

I don't belong in your sanctuary. Haven't you heard what they call me? Daughter. 

Your hands made of ice will melt under my flame.

Know your territory. Know your limits. Know my name. 

Complacency,

I won't entertain you, quiet killer.

In me is a child in need of God, The Father. You won't steal her. 

I won't kiss the lips of comfort. It's death.

Like a silent leak, you would drain me until nothing is left. 

So, as you tuck people into the grave with your eyes wide awake,

know that I have turned my back on you. Your embrace I forsake. 

I choose the fire of my God that refines gold. 
May it blister me as He whispers to me mysteries untold.

Complacency,

Don't invite me. The answer is no.