Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.
The Bible is powerless in my life if I don’t believe it. I can hear the truth, I can read the truth, I can copy the truth onto 3 by 5 notecards and tape them on my mirror, I can memorize the truth, I can shout the truth over my situation, but until I know the truth… I will not be set free.
More than anything else in life, I want to know the truth. I don’t just want to read it. I don’t just want to hear it. I don’t even just want to think about it. I’ve got to know it. Because when I know it, I will be totally and unquestionably free. Free from the every lie that tries to creep into my mind. Free from intimidation and worry and confusion and fear. Free from every symptom of sickness that ever tries to turn into something more. Free from debt and insufficiency and lack. Yes, that’s what I want. I don’t just want to have the word stored away in my heart. I want to live it! Because it’s not enough for me to just read stories of victory and triumph, of nations being won for Jesus in a day, of the dead being brought back to life, sickness and disease vanishing. I’ve got to live it. I can’t stand to live another day hearing names like parkinsons and cancer and heart disease and hiv and standing back to make way for them — or seeing others gawk in fear towards them. No way. I’ve got to be in a position of such confidence in Jesus, in complete awareness of the authority I have in Him, that I can stand and look down upon these ugly, horrible names that represent such demonic torment — not looking up at them in awe or intimidation, but looking down upon them in complete hatred and a complete lack of amazement. They’ve got to be ants beneath my feet. I will no longer make them to be anything more. Jesus didn’t. Jesus was not impressed with sickness like we are. The Bible says that when He cast out a demon, He refused to even let it speak. People today are not only letting the enemy speak to them and overwhelm them — they are speaking back. I won’t stand for it. Sickness and disease, cancer and hiv, tuberculosis and strokes, colds and flus — they are all Goliaths in our society. Will we be like King Saul who cowered and fretted over this uncircumcised Philistine? Or will we be like David? David said to the Philistine, “You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the LORD Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the LORD will hand you over to me, and I’ll strike you down and cut off your head. Today I will give the carcasses of the Philistine army to the birds of the air and the beasts of the earth, and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel. All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the LORD saves; for the battle is the LORD’s, and He will give all of you into our hands.” I think we’d start seeing a lot more victories in our life if we treated sickness and torment and debt — and all of satan’s devices like David treated Goliath.
His eyes are piercing. His gaze, unbroken. His face is decorated with a stray cut on his forehead, a stream of dried blood dried between his eyes. His cheeks are bronzed by dirt. His lips are cracked.
He doesn’t know fear, but fear knows him. It calls his name; he doesn’t hear it. It chases him; he doesn’t hide. He rides and the ground trembles beneath him. His fist clenches tight around his inseparable companion: a sword. Splinters from the hilt threaten to pierce his skin but lose every time. His skin is tough and worn, like a piece of good leather that softens and becomes more pliable but never looses its seal.
A sliver of light breaks through a barrier of dark clouds and finds a shiny spot to reflect on his sword. He looks at it and remembers a day when the entire sword would turn to gold in the light. That day was short lived. A shiny sword costs nothing. A dull sword with splinters that’s caked in red and brown costs lives – in particular, his own.
He pulls the sword from his side and raises it to the sky. The familiar feel of splinters jutting into the palm of his hand brings a calm to his mind. It’s time for battle. He opens his mouth and releases a roar. Soldiers gather around him. They, too, raise their swords. Fear is in their eyes and he commands it to leave.
Before them is a staggering army of countless barbarians, savages, defenders of all that is evil and cruel. At a distance, they are specks. Is there a thousand? Ten thousand? One-hundred thousand? Half a million? No one can tell.
He looks to his soldiers. They amount to a few hundred. He rides to the front and looks them square in the eyes. “Does anything restrain the LORD from saving by many or by few?” Their response is in a rumbling roar. They are ready.
He grips the sword tighter. Casualties are inevitable. They will drop around him. Some of his own soldiers will be snatched away. But this sword will never leave his hand. He will fight through death and ice and blood. He will fight until his arm grows weak and his very hand becomes frozen to the sword. He will not set it down for anything. Not even his own life.