The Epic Battle of Christian Knights, Midian and Valor

I will die without it. Another slew of a thousand flaming arrows soared overhead as Midian crawled across the desert terrain. Blood-coated dust seeped into his helmet. He breathed in the coppery smoke, his dry throat screaming for a single drop of water.

Leather boots guarded by golden armor appeared on his right. Valor.

“Midian,” he shouted as a mob of Black Knights bounded toward him, “keep going! You’re almost there!” Valor raised a three-foot-sword, its golden blade reflecting the brightness of the sun beaming from overhead. He swung it and decapitated three of his foes.

One of their heads landed in front of Midian. The ebony helmet clanked against the dusty ground and off the beast. Lifeless black eyes and a mouth agape with blood-soaked fangs managed to freeze Midian in his place.

“What are you doing?” Valor impaled a Black Knight and kicked it off his blade before slicing another cursed beast in half. “You mustn’t stop now!”

Midian forced his limbs to crawl onward, wincing as he pushed aside the terrifying head.

His worn tent stood twenty yards away.

He glanced back. Thousands of Black Knights rode in from the south on ebony stallions, racing toward Valor. He could only hold them off for so long.

A fiery barb pierced Midian’s exposed thigh. The flames quickly engulfed his leg and waist. He wailed as he rolled from side-to-side to douse the fire.

A quaking struck the ground.

Midian stopped rolling.

At the tent’s entrance, Leviathan towered a thousand feet high, his crimson scales flaring like his blazing irises. He roared and a stream of fire surged Midian’s way.

Valor leapt in front of him, his golden shield lifted. The armor deflected the raging flames. “Go!” Valor charged at the enemy with his sword.

Midian pushed on, his searing blisters scraping against the dust. Fire rained down like a hellish storm.

Valor dodged and countered the enemy’s blows, leading him away from the tent.

Midian dragged himself toward the small entry. With each move closer, pangs and quivering amplified. His elbows locked, and the little strength he had left seeped out of his limbs like his bleeding wounds.

Slowly, his vision darkened.

A bellowing roar echoed from behind.

The ground jumped, tossing Midian up and then tumbling back down. He tried to blink away the blackness, but it only worsened.

Armored arms swept beneath his torso and raised him out of the dust. In seconds, he descended onto cushions.

A strong hand forced his mouth open, and cool liquid poured inside. It washed over his parched tongue and replenished his weak muscles.

Midian’s eyes opened. His bloody burns had begun to close, and the hilt of his rusty sword rested in his hand.

Again, he had barely survived an ambush.

Valor stood at Midian’s bedside, clutching a crystal canister of sparkling water. His bright eyes peered down on him. “What would have happened if I too had left my sword in my tent?”

Midian squeezed his hilt, shame choking his words.

“I cannot keep fighting without you, Midian. Either you fight with me in this war, or you perish alone on the battle field.” Valor chugged from the canister and marched back outside, the hooves of the Black Knight’s horses fading to silence.

Midian represents the lukewarm Christian, the Christian who forgets or chooses to not read the Word of God daily. Because of which, his only offensive weapon, his sword of the spirit, grows rusty and he becomes weak, parched without the living water of the Scriptures—Jesus Himself.

When satan and his demons attack Midian, he falls and needs the aid of his stronger brothers in Christ to help pick him up again.

Valor, on the other hand, forgets not the Word of God. He meditates on it day and night. He drinks of it daily, consuming moderate amounts before the day’s end. Thus, he is always ready for battle. When the enemy strikes, he strikes back with his all-powerful weapon, the Word of God. His sword is ever at his side and he is able to not only stand for himself, but rescue others who are losing the fight.

The Church needs more Valors. Will you pick up your sword and become a Knight of such value and honor for the kingdom of heaven’s sake?

The choice is yours.

Hubby and I could use some authonomy love


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