​A​t 3:14 ​on Wednesday, a quiet miracle happened on the western bank of the Willamette River.

Every Wednesday, I take a block of time to be alone with Jesus. I call it Wordless Wednesday. This week, I settled in on a bench on my favorite path at Willamette Park, where geese ripple back and forth, painting swish-feathers in the currents, lifting their eyes once in a while to cousins flying in V-formation overhead.

I reflected on a​ recent​ conversation I’d had with John Anderson, mentor and friend. I had asked him what a call to higher ground looks like. He challenged me to ask different kinds of questions, and then asked, “What if you don’t need higher ground? What if dwelling​ in heaven is the highest ground?”

He extended to me a fresh invitation to press forward living out the New Covenant. He compared the Old Covenant to the New Covenant.

The Old Covenant said, “A prophet is judged for a bad word.”
The New Covenant says, “You can hear a word from any source. Judge it yourself. Eat the fruit. Throw the rest away.”

The Old Covenant said, “Wait for the anointing to come.”
The New Covenant says, “You have the anointing all the time.”

The Old Covenant said, “My thoughts are not yours.”
The New Covenant says, “We have, installed in us, Jesus, His mind, His knowledge. We don’t need anyone to explain this to us.”

​John added​, “We act sometimes as though we’re waiting for the Messiah. As though the Lamb will one day be slain, and a new Covenant will come.

“But we’re seated on heavenly places. ‘And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus’” (Ephesians 2:6).

So, Wednesday, I meditated on the truths John shared.
I asked God if I might live in this in real time.
Not just on a laptop screen as I write.
Not just in a journal where I chronicle my adventures with Jesus.
But in real time. In real life.

I reminded myself that I’m a Queen, and shoved my crown back on my head at a rakish angle, with some unruly hair sticking out in the back, probably. I looked out at the sailboats on the Willamette River gliding smoothly under the bright sky.

The moment was charged with expectation.
I knew I had business to do, and took a deep breath.

I’m living by the New Covenant.
I’m a Queen. On her throne.
Piece. Of. Cake.

Jesus, I’ve got this. We’ve got this.

The Lord of Heaven’s Armies says, “The time will come when I will pull out the nail that seemed so firm. It will come out and fall to the ground. Everything it supports will fall with it. I, the Lord have spoken!” (Isaiah 22:25)

I wrote out a list, naming lies of the enemy on this doc​ument​ on the wall. Like I’m unworthy. My identity is found in others. Fear instilled by the enemy. Permission given for fear to enter me in the first place. Anemic, wobbly authority. Fear of darkness. Fear of the occult. Joining in singing the discord of accusation against brothers and sisters in the court. Perjury, when a person lies or makes statements that are not truthful while under oath, including omitting facts. Images of piles of furniture stacked and barricading the door to my own throne room. Yellow police tape on the playground border that said, “No entry.” Shame.

I stood before this document on the wall and spoke forgiveness into myself, others, and God, and broke the curses spoken, declared 7fold return on theft, and every and all agreements, contracts, deeds, statutes, laws, ordinances, processes, constitutions, proceedings, in every way influencing me and those I love and am in covenant with.

I commanded the nail to fall.
I clapped my hands.
Boom!
The nail and page dropped to the ground.
In a single command.
Just like that.

Just like that!

And then, a head-to-toe spirit rush: I realized that this moment converged with the ultimate fulcrum of the universe. A man hung on a tree, God incarnate, the pulse of heaven taking on every sin, gross injustice, spattered blood, 39 slashes torn into His side. The nails in his hands and feet driven there in abject hatred of a perfect love.

The nail now lays at my feet, powerless.

My life is purified.
I have clean hands and a pure heart.
Not in the future, some day, when I get it right.
Now. Electrostatically. At this moment.

I live in the New Covenant.
I’m a Queen.
I live in the confidence found in all heaven.
My continuously cascading spirit is one with Kingdom.

I need no one to remind me where I am.
I know where I am.
Amid the Lord of Heaven’s Armies, angels on assignment to destroy all that attempts to torch the Kingdom.

Joy rises up in my spirit.

Heaven is beneath my queenly slippers 24/7.
I don’t need to ascend to the highest place.
I live here.

And so do you.​

Friend, what are you praying into from heaven’s perspective today?

Imagine the possibilities!

Lynn

Quest for Self Forgiveness Favo

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