The battle’s already won.

I lie crumpled on the hard hot ground. The battlefield.

Beaten and bruised with a head full of lies and confusion, and a face full of shame.

Attacked from all angles. Helpless. Weak. Vulnerable.

My lips in utter desperation, fumble with the only truth I know.

In one exhausted breath, “Jesus, I need you.” 

Immediately, He is there by my side, lighting up the darkened skies.

My Warrior.

On a beautiful white horse. He towers over me. Full of strength, power, and authority.

With a swift, but gentle motion I’m swept up off the ground onto His horse. Into the warmth of His arms.

His right arm wrapped protectively and securely around my frail body.

My ear against His chest listens to the steady strong rhythm of His heartbeat. 

The Mighty One unsheathes His sword, and my enemies flee. 

My heart rate slows. Rest. Unexplainable rest.

This battle, like all the rest, were won before they began.

He loves to fight for me.

The Question: Why?

Love.

Undeserved.

Unconditional.

Incredible.

The most amazing part: Next time I willingly allow myself to be dragged onto the battlefield, He’ll come.

He always comes.