The Throne Room Door
How long will you keep God on the hook for something He never did?
How long will you stare at the weapon in front of you—refusing to pick it up—just because the enemy once used it against you?
The Father said, Come, and you came.
He gave you His blessing and called you beautiful.
He clothed you in garments of glory and placed you inside His perfect plan.
He sent you gifts, and you received them with joy.
He waits—daily, patiently—looking for that fire in your eyes, the kind that says, No matter the cost, nothing will keep me away.
He surrounds you with His hedge of protection.
You've been knocked off your horse before, but He told you, Get up. Get back on.
He's fed you with the best of food. He's made you strong—your bones thick with endurance.
You've forgotten how to speak His language, but He still speaks yours.
He woos you. He whispers. But still—you won't draw near.
You've exiled yourself outside the gates, declaring yourself unworthy.
And now, when the call beckons you into the Throne Room, the forest that stands between you and Him makes you tremble.
Yes, the enemy tormented you. Yes, he knocked you down. Yes, he stole your treasures.
But your Beloved still calls you back—the King, in whose hands is victory.
And though the force between you threatens night and day, whispering that if you move toward the Throne you'll be torn apart and left for dead…
You hesitate.
You don't believe the Beloved hears you when you cry.
But oh, if only you knew—how He grieves every tear that falls.
He sees you from afar. He watches every move.
He guards you even when you think He's not near.
One day, He will reveal what He has reserved for those who dared to touch the apple of His eye.
He will scatter them with a jealous vengeance.
There are evil voices that howl at the moon, taunting you, daring you to battle.
Like Elijah, after calling down fire, who ran from the threats of Jezebel,
You too have laid down in the field—sleeping, refusing to rise.
But through the quiet night and early morning hours,
The King sings from His tower.
His voice, carried on the wind, dances across the forest, climbs the hills, and descends softly upon your ears.
Yet you busy yourself with the demands of the day.
Your eyes chase what captures your heart,
Because the enemy's threats scream louder than the Lover's whispers.
And I—I anguish for Him.
I watch His countenance fall with each day you refuse to answer His call.
Do you not know your Beloved paces the halls,
Waiting, hoping, listening for the sound of your steps returning?
He stands on the balcony, eyes scanning the distance, longing for you.
Rise, beloved. Stand.
He has called you faithful and entrusted you with His heart.
By His own word, He cannot be unfaithful—He has said He trusts you.
Do not close your eyes tonight without answering Him.
Be His delight.
And yes—the enemy will hear the winded whisper of your return.
But when he rises to bring fear,
Know this: Heaven's chariots are already en route.
They will deliver you.
And sweet victories will begin.
The face of the one who laughed, who screamed, who tormented—
will be heard no more…
from the Throne Room Door.
ihs🦋
How long will you keep God on the hook for something He never did?
How long will you stare at the weapon in front of you—refusing to pick it up—just because the enemy once used it against you?
The Father said, Come, and you came.
He gave you His blessing and called you beautiful.
He clothed you in garments of glory and placed you inside His perfect plan.
He sent you gifts, and you received them with joy.
He waits—daily, patiently—looking for that fire in your eyes, the kind that says, No matter the cost, nothing will keep me away.
He surrounds you with His hedge of protection.
You've been knocked off your horse before, but He told you, Get up. Get back on.
He's fed you with the best of food. He's made you strong—your bones thick with endurance.
You've forgotten how to speak His language, but He still speaks yours.
He woos you. He whispers. But still—you won't draw near.
You've exiled yourself outside the gates, declaring yourself unworthy.
And now, when the call beckons you into the Throne Room, the forest that stands between you and Him makes you tremble.
Yes, the enemy tormented you. Yes, he knocked you down. Yes, he stole your treasures.
But your Beloved still calls you back—the King, in whose hands is victory.
And though the force between you threatens night and day, whispering that if you move toward the Throne you'll be torn apart and left for dead…
You hesitate.
You don't believe the Beloved hears you when you cry.
But oh, if only you knew—how He grieves every tear that falls.
He sees you from afar. He watches every move.
He guards you even when you think He's not near.
One day, He will reveal what He has reserved for those who dared to touch the apple of His eye.
He will scatter them with a jealous vengeance.
There are evil voices that howl at the moon, taunting you, daring you to battle.
Like Elijah, after calling down fire, who ran from the threats of Jezebel,
You too have laid down in the field—sleeping, refusing to rise.
But through the quiet night and early morning hours,
The King sings from His tower.
His voice, carried on the wind, dances across the forest, climbs the hills, and descends softly upon your ears.
Yet you busy yourself with the demands of the day.
Your eyes chase what captures your heart,
Because the enemy's threats scream louder than the Lover's whispers.
And I—I anguish for Him.
I watch His countenance fall with each day you refuse to answer His call.
Do you not know your Beloved paces the halls,
Waiting, hoping, listening for the sound of your steps returning?
He stands on the balcony, eyes scanning the distance, longing for you.
Rise, beloved. Stand.
He has called you faithful and entrusted you with His heart.
By His own word, He cannot be unfaithful—He has said He trusts you.
Do not close your eyes tonight without answering Him.
Be His delight.
And yes—the enemy will hear the winded whisper of your return.
But when he rises to bring fear,
Know this: Heaven's chariots are already en route.
They will deliver you.
And sweet victories will begin.
The face of the one who laughed, who screamed, who tormented—
will be heard no more…
from the Throne Room Door.
ihs🦋
ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ
✿⊰ B e l i e v e ⊰✿
ღೋƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღೋ
No comments:
Post a Comment