Beaten down, by life’s circumstances and situations, left to
cry out in despair,
Trodden underfoot, by the enemy’s attacks and fiery darts, wondering, like
Job, of the day of your birth, what you did to deserve this life,
Crushed in the making, everything not like Christ being pulled out and
discarded, set apart, sanctified and holy.
Oh! What a Saviour! He “skims” the results of this process off the top,
taking only that which is “pure,” for His delight,
Storing your “oil”—He sets it to wait--for His perfect timing, the
appropriate moment of release.
Then, out of the recesses of your belly, your spirit man responds, in that
midnite hour and begin to sing unto Him, the Glory due unto His name,
to sing praises to the King of kings and the Lord of lords…His Glory manifested in you from the seasons of your trials and tribulations—that His Song in you will begin to rise.
The fragrant oil of your praise—a sweet elixir to your King.
“In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.”
I Thess. 5:18