A Title Shot

A boxer’s praising recollections…
 

O, my Lord, the fight started out so badly. He stalked me and caught me with some hard blows that rocked me and buckled me. I tried to stick and move and dance but he was so fast; my what fast, fast hands he had, and the fight kept going his way. After three rounds scheduled for twelve I was gassed and getting cut up my Lord. Nothing was working. My corner held my towel, ready to throw it into the ring. I came out for the fourth round with a prayer on my lips because I remembered you from hard times past my Lord, my Savior. You got me through all that training, all that hard work, and so many self-denials to get here, to get this title shot. My legs still wobbled a little, but I felt better somehow in the fourth round. He circled me and launched a fast barrage of shots high and low, but I withstood them, and my tether to you became my zone. My Lord, now I was in the right zone. I fast sensed that’s what was missing, that’s why the fight started out so badly, I had entered the fray in my own strength; in the wrong zone, the wrong zone… He took yet the fourth round and was ahead on all scorecards going into the fifth round, but that fourth round felt like a winner nonetheless because now I was not fighting alone anymore my Lord. His body blows followed by uppercuts I now saw coming and was able to counter them for the first time, and his power was noticeably less with every one of my counters, nay, your counters my Lord. I caught him with a stiff, straight left, and a right cross, and dropped him. He got up at the count of six and the bell rang to end the fifth round. My was I tired and hurting, but I felt your tether lifting me up, strengthening me, encouraging me to continue the fight. As the sixth round began a look of urgency was apparent in his eyes and he let loose a flurry of power shots that missed badly, and I looked and beheld he was weary, he had burnt out in the course of those barrages, and was heavily breathing, mouth wide open. I stuck with what seemed to be working and caught him again with the same combination, a stiff, straight left, and a right cross, and dropped him again. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and he was up, just beating the count. This round, like the last, you gave to me my Lord. We, you and I, are going to win this thing, and get our title to enjoy together forever. In round seven his gas tank was empty, he had nothing left. He had gassed himself with his wild but futile power shots in the last round, and that straight left and right cross that I caught him with my Lord staggered him and confused him, and he was still somewhat staggering and looked confused coming into the seventh round. Another exceedingly stiff left followed by a hard, hard right cross put him down again, and out this time. The title is won my Lord! You, even you snatched victory out of the roaring lion’s jaws, out of the jaws of defeat my Lord. When I tethered to you, you heard my prayer and strengthened my heart and my hands, and the title is won. O, even a much, much greater one than this belt, indeed, Salvation, that bespeaks a blessed eternity in your presence, which too you have won for me. Yea, the pattern is consistent: though the enemy stalks, and unleashes wicked barrages, by your power, by your Cross, your Righteous Cross, you snatch victory out of the jaws of defeat. You, yea you do this for your servants when they tether to you, Title holders all! Praised be your great Name, even Elohim, Jehovah Jireh, Victory… Amen.

 

What round are you in right now beloved reader, and how goes the struggle; do you realize that you are in a Title fight (“A Letter of Invitation”)?