For the past two week, I’ve been living in Tbilisi, Georgia. Almost every morning I’ve been able to walk or run around the city before our team activities start. As the sun rose this morning, I was excited to get outside and enjoy the morning light and some fresh air. I planned to walk towards a part of town called Liberty Square this morning. But as I stepped out the door, I felt a nudge to walk towards the river that is near to the center of town.
As I neared the river the beginning of a commotion caught my eye. I was still about fifty meters away when I saw the man. He was standing on the wrong side of the guard rail, looking as if he was about to jump into the cold winter river. Just one or two bystanders near him at the railing. They were urgently trying to coax him back on the right side of the guardrail. This man was physically agitated and anxious, even from far off. As I walked closer in this direction, I saw a rescue boat speeding in from the opposite side of the river. The men in the boat bundled up in wetsuits, jackets, hats, life vests. They circled under the bridge, anticipating the man’s moves. Thirty seconds later, two police cars and an ambulance pulled up. About seven or eight police officers lined the bridge, standing close to this man—conversing and seemingly pleading with him in a language I could not understand. The situation unfolded before my eyes, and something in me was drawn right to it. As I tried to get closer, the police men directed me to the other side of the street. As I crossed the bridge, God told me to start praying. There was a tree about fifty meters away from this man. I walked there and stopped.
I started praying. Claiming spiritual victory to be released over this man. Praying for peace to overwhelm him. Asking God to come and touch his heart. Claiming that today would be the day that victory would touch his life and evil would lose. That this defeat would begin a new journey in this man’s life. Declaring that today would be the beginning of the rest of his life, restored. God asked me to declare repeatedly the truth of His character. Victory belongs to Jesus. I couldn’t stop saying it, proclaiming it. Victory belongs to Jesus.
I was singing, I was praying out loud. I was waving my hands. I was speaking in a foreign language to the Georgians who were passing by on their way to work. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t doing this because it was me, it was the Spirit and I wasn’t stopping it. This man needed prayers. And though I couldn’t solve the discord, pain and desperation in his heart, I knew Jesus could. The fisherman on the river looked over to me as if I was mad, but it’s okay.
Five minutes passed. God asked me to continue.
Ten minutes passed. God asked me to continue.
Fifteen minutes passed. God asked me to continue.
The song on my playlist had changed. The repeating chorus became my melody. A loud singing voice had come over me as I continued claiming God’s power. As the chorus came on these words repeated:
Way maker, miracle worker, promise keeper, light in the darkness. My God, that is who you are. Way maker, miracle worker, promise keeper, light in the darkness. My God, that is who you are. Way maker, miracle worker, promise keeper, light in the darkness. My God, that is who you are. Way maker, miracle worker, promise keeper, light in the darkness. My God, that is who you are.
The man was still standing on the ledge, leaning towards the water as this song began to play. The back and forth of desperate conversion had been going on for over fifteen minutes. And then, in a limp breakthrough, I saw him give up the fight to jump. As the words WAY MAKER, MIRACLE WORKER, PROMISE KEEPER, LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS. MY GOD THAT IS WHO YOU ARE rang through my heart I saw his body relax. Three men quickly help drag him over the railing to safety. On the right side of the railing, this man collapsed on the ground, convulsing in tears. The police officers helped him to the ambulance, and as he took a seat in the ambulance and was hugging the paramedic, I felt tear rushing down my face. Victory belongs to Jesus.
The reality of darkness and evil in this world can feel so intense. It seems sometimes all we must do is look around to see the tainting of darkness. But in an even stronger reality VICTORY BELONGS TO JESUS. In the fight against Satan we are bearers of light and have the power to call on God’s power. Victory belongs to Jesus. And if we are Christ followers we hold his authority and hold his power.
God is a a way maker, miracle worker, promise keeper, light in the darkness and so much more. We must know who he is in order to rely on him. Calling out who God is unlocks his promise. The strength of God is reaching for us.
We can trust His voice. We can come before God with expectancy. He will not be overcome by darkness. We can declare the spiritual authority Jesus gave us when He died and conquered death for us. We can be unafraid of looking like crazy prayer ladies (or gentlemen). We can courageously obey because God will back us up. We can trust that God will show up and has gone before. We can call on God and believe that He is faithful As we wait and hope on breaththrough, it is good to remember that breakthrough is happening all around us. Breakthrough is rooted in the fulfillment of God’s promises. And God always fulfills his promises.
https://open.spotify.com/user/weenerkelsey/playlist/2BTrUJihs2YN9fTQI4sMr9?si=GDWwN1NTSGWecPhsfbADNQ
