Moving Mountains

I am praying to the One who gave his life for me. Just let your heart linger there for a moment; picture the event in your mind. I am praying to the One who gave his life for me.

All of this—the victory, the overthrow of Satan’s right to rule, the transfer of authority, power, and dominion to the Son of God—this is what Jesus was referring to when after his resurrection he said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me” (Matt. 28:18).

We are heirs to the throne, joining our Father and Jesus on the field of battle. An invasion is underway.

Oh, how it helps me to remind myself, I am praying to the One who gave his life for me.

I find myself embarrassed by how “formal” my prayer life has become, how careful.

For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” (Rom. 8:15)

“Yes—that is my point,” you might say. “I believe Jesus won. So why don’t prayers work better than they do? Isn’t Satan defeated?” Stay with me now, because this has staggering implications for you and the way you pray. The invasion of the kingdom of God is something that is still unfolding, right now, today.

“But I’m a Christian—aren’t I always under the rule and protection of Jesus?” Yes . . . and no. I wish it were as simple as, “I gave my life to Christ once, so I am forever and always in an unbroken intimacy with him.” But you know from your own experience this isn’t so. That’s a bit like a man saying, “I told my wife I loved her the day we got mar

Amen does not mean, “That’s it . . . I’m done now,” the little period at the end of my prayer. Amen (ah-mane) is an ancient Hebrew word that was transliterated (kept virtually intact) into New Testament Greek. It is a pronouncement, firm and authoritative: “Yes! So be it! Let this be done!” Amen is a declaration; in that sense it is like a command.