Faces of the Dead

When I am asleep, the faces of the dead wake me. I rise up trembling, looking around—am I there again? But in those moments, it is not only what I see. It is every face that war and wounded choices buried deep. Some want my soul. Some want revenge. Some return to make me suffer every failure once again. The dead from the war stand beside the ones still alive— The family I tore apart while trying to survive. They call me guilty till the darkness feels like truth. They drag the warrior from the grave and tell me what to do. Kindness starts to fade. The old man wants his name. Sin and war and bitterness come reaching through the shame. But through the noise, one gentle voice still finds me where I roam. Her voice never tears me down. Her voice still leads me home. When every other voice Wants something from me, Her voice reminds me Whose child I will always be. A son of the Most-High God. A son He will not lose. The faces call me guilty. The blood has called me new. Faces of the dead, You cannot have my soul. I am His. I am redeemed. I belong to Christ alone. Perfect love is reaching Through the terror and the pain. When the Father calls me “Son,” You have nothing left to say. The old man wanted warfare, hatred, anger, and contempt. The new man wants the faithfulness that only Christ can give. When kindness fades, I speak my name directly through the dark: “Son”—not warrior, not condemned, but held inside His heart. Lay down the weapons of the war. Put on the armor of God. Fight every battle on my knees instead of fighting those I love. Prayer and the Word bear witness to the heart that Christ has healed. The faces still return; faith does not erase the night. But Jesus stays beside me and keeps leading me to light. He shows me every failure without leaving me in shame. He gives me power to repent when morning calls my name. I choose life. I choose the truth. I face the day ahead. I will not build tomorrow from the voices of the dead. Not by the warrior’s strength or all the wars that I have won— I walk another day by grace because the Father calls me “Son.” No—you cannot have me. I am His. I bow my knees before the Father. Strengthen my inner being. Root me in the love of Christ. Do far more abundantly Than all I ask or think. Heal my family. Build the life You want today. Christ, become the Cornerstone. Leave my shame inside the grave. Faces of the dead, You have nothing left to say. Perfect love has met my fear And cast its voice away. I am His. I am redeemed. I am not the names I knew. I am gentle. I am patient. Christ is making all things new. When every face has faded, Her voice still breaks through: “Come home. Everything will be okay.” Your voice calls me home When the darkness breaks through. Thank you for staying. I love you.