The Warrior is a Child
The demons are flying all around me, and my guardian angels have a vicious battle to fight. My heart grows weary from the battle and sometimes I stumble. So now I ask for grace if you have seen me fall face first into a mud puddle. You didn’t see, but I was tripped and Satan delights in seeing me wet and dripping, my face smeared with mud. If you see me, face down in the mud puddle, don’t allow me to wallow like a pig in the mire. Help me up, wipe off my face. Slap me around if I need it. Then send me on my way with your prayers guarding my back.
If I am tripped, I must rise again though my heart grows weary. I must continue to try and honor Him even when my knees are scraped and bruised. I must continue on even though I am wounded. I know that Jesus will open his arms and give me a place to rest. He will heal my scraped knees and my wounds.
The Warrior is a Child
by Twila Paris
Lately I’ve been winning battles left and right
But even winners can get wounded in the fight
People say that I’m amazing, strong beyond my years
But they don’t see inside of me, I’m hiding all the tears
They don’t know that I go running home when I fall down
They don’t know who picks me up when no one is around
I drop my sword and cry for just a while
Deep inside this armour - the warrior is a child.