Wardrobe

Sometimes I think

About all of life’s cares:

Cruel famines, and plagues,

The air raid siren blares.

All of life’s problems,

The great and the small,

Some are just mine

And others affect all.

They all come down on my shoulders

And I long for a place

Where problems take bodily form.

Let me fight or give chase!

Let me enter a wardrobe

Where inside I will find

A land where problems become monsters,

Materialize from my mind,

Gather in ranks,

Polish their swords,

Give heed to their Witches,

And call their Dark Lords.

I’ll walk through that door

Out into the snow:

And I’ll fight those monsters

Just ‘cause I want to show

That I’ll fight to the death;

There will sound no retreat

From my army’s trumpets.

Though I may be beat,

They can’t break my spirit,

Can’t put fear in my eye.

They’ll have to kill me first.

Do you want to know why?

The Lion is coming!

What they don’t understand is

They’re fighting a lost battle.

Victory’s already His!

They may gather against me

In their hordes and great throngs.

If I die in the battle,

They’ll at least know my heart longs

For the time when He arrives

With His mane in the breeze.

All evil things tremble,

And the enemy flees.

All worry will be gone,

Sorrow will be no more,

There’s no reason for stress

When you hear His roar.

But there is no such wardrobe,

There is no such place

Where I can fight my enemies:

Stare them down face to face.

So I’ll face my reality:

Come back through the door.

I’ll step out of the wardrobe.

The beasts are just problems once more.

And although there’s no Lion,

Jesus is always right there.

There’s no reason to doubt,

Fret, worry, or care.

So bring on the problems!

In hordes or one by one!

I’ll fight them for His praise and glory

‘Till He comes, or my life is done.