Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: WIN (02/14/19)
TITLE: Faith On Trial
By Karlene Jacobsen
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“But will you win?” the prosecutor wagged his crooked finger at me. It was evident in his eyes that he wanted to decimate me. His goal, according to everyone I’ve talked to, was to rip me of every ounce of confidence I had.
Determined not to let him win, I asked, “Does it matter?”
“Of course it does.” He spun to face my other accusers. “Only winners get the prize. Only winners are celebrated.”
My inward confidence was beginning to waver, so I quietly called on my Father before answering, “But I will finish. Is that not important? My feet are broken, my arms are weak, I overcome every obstacle—including the ones my opponents send my way—with the help of God.”
He sneered. “But will you win? You have no close friends. You’re poor. Your family is spread across the world. Some of them even answer to my call. How can you call that winning?”
The things he said were true. My family distanced themselves when my wealth failed, and my health faltered. I can’t blame them. They trust in security, not realizing where the truest security is found. Yet. “I do. I call it trusting. Believing that God has things under control. Allowing Him to work His plan in my life, and the lives of my family. I call it faith in the unstoppable grace and mercy of the Almighty who knows exactly what it will take to bring my family into His arms. For the win.”
He clapped his hands. “So, you’re defeated.”
“No. In fact, I am victorious.” The falter in my internal steps stabilized as I sensed my Father rise up, bolstering my confidence.
He was visibly shaken by my declaration. “But you let him fight your battles.”
“Yes, I do. And with that, I win.”
“How is that possible. You’ve given up.”
“Yes. I have; and I do daily. I give up trying to control. I give up manipulation. I give up the stress that comes with keeping everyone in line with what I believe they ought to be doing. I give up worry …” Laughter bubbled in my heart. “The stress of all that is exhausting. I’m choosing to live, laugh, and trust my Father.”
“That’s not what I mean.” He was grasping, as usual. “You have to do it yourself, or it doesn’t count.”
“I know, but it’s true. I have given up, therefore, I do win, and I will finish well.” I hesitated, then added, “And this is where you are mistaken. My Father said, ‘all things are possible’ with Him. So this means relying on Him for the win, does count.”
“HA!” He grabbed files from his table across the room—evidence, he called it. “I see that you fall.” He threw a picture at my feet. “You are weak.” He shoved articles noting my recent mistakes at me. “I have noticed you wring your hands in worry and fear.” He recounted the scenes. “I have heard the tremble in your voice, and I have watched you sweat when you’re uncertain.” He laughed, throwing the remaining sheets of paper in the air like confetti. “You can’t win.”
“Oh, but that is where you are wrong.” Confidence in my Father soared. “While I do fall, I get back up. Did you miss that?” I watched him step away from me, grab his gut as though I punched him. “While I wrung my sweaty hands, I have also prayed and asked God to help.” Another blow. “He remembers that I am weak, so He allows me to come to Him, acknowledging my weaknesses before Him. He gives me the strength I need to be honest, open, and transparent in His presence.” The prosecutor leaned on his table. Apparently in pain. “With Him, I win.”
“But …” he was visibly shaken.
“Enough. We both know I am weak; but, He is strong. We both know the Scripture, in Christ I can do all things. We also know, you lose … and because He wins, I win.”
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