Victorious in Christ

The Book of Revelation repeatedly blesses “the one who is victorious” (Revelation 2:7, 2:11, 2:17, 2:26). The word “overcome” appears again and again in Revelation, addressed to the seven churches. 

The Greek word used here is nikaō, from which we get “Nike,” meaning victory or conquest. In Revelation, the phrase is usually in the singular: “the one who overcomes” (ho nikōn). Yet it was not written for only one individual. Yet Revelation speaks in the plural. It is not about a single figure who triumphs, but about the community of believers who, in union with Christ, endure and remain faithful. Each church was called to overcome its own trial. Some faced compromise with false teaching. Others endured poverty or the sword. Still others fought pride, complacency, or lukewarm faith.

When Revelation speaks of “the one who overcomes,” it may sound as if the blessing is reserved for a single, heroic individual. But the language works like the word “you” in a letter or an article. When an author writes “you,” every reader naturally feels it personally, yet the writer is addressing all readers together. The singular draws us in, making the call intimate, while the reality is collective. In the same way, “the one who overcomes” is not about one special person alone but about the entire body of believers (the Greek ekklesia as “congregation” or “assembly; church), each sharing in the same victory through Christ. It is personal enough to challenge you, and yet universal enough to include us all.

What does it mean then for us? Does it mean hiding away from the world, cutting ourselves off as if holiness meant isolation? Or does it mean carrying Christ into the very heart of life, with its pain, its temptations, and its brokenness, and yet refusing to be shaped by them?

John’s Gospel reminds us that Jesus prayed not that His disciples be taken out of the world but that they be protected from the evil one (John 17:15). Victory is not escape. It is faithfulness in the midst of trial. It is remaining steadfast when pressure demands compromise.

To the Romans, strength meant legions, wealth and glory. But the early Christians turned the meaning of victory upside down.

The first Christians knew suffering was not a sign of failure. Paul himself begged God to take away his thorn, but the answer was clear: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). Weakness became the stage where God’s strength shone brightest.

To be victorious in Revelation is not to crush enemies by force. It is to resist evil through love. Jesus taught, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). The Lamb triumphed not by striking down Rome but by laying down His life. The martyrs triumphed not by wielding swords but by refusing to deny Christ, even when death loomed.
Jesus had already told them: “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

Victory came not by escaping suffering, but by remaining faithful through it. It did not mean withdrawing from society, building walls, or living in constant suspicion of the world. Instead, it meant bearing witness to the truth even when the world resisted that witness.

Can you imagine the spectacle this created in the Roman arenas? Instead of curses, the condemned sang hymns. Instead of fear, their faces glowed with peace. Instead of hatred, they forgave their executioners. This was unheard of in the ancient world. It pierced the hearts of bystanders. Some walked away asking, “What is this faith that makes men and women sing as they die? Could Jesus truly be who He said He is?”

The path to victory is not lined with pride but with humility. The Apostle John, both in his gospel and in his letters, points us to this truth again and again. 

He reminds us that “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:8–9). 

To confess is an act of humility. It is to admit that we cannot save ourselves, that we cannot cover our own guilt, that we desperately need the grace of God.

Pride blinds us. Pride convinces us that we are strong enough, righteous enough, wise enough. It whispers that we have no need of healing. 

But humility opens our eyes to our true state. It shows us our emptiness, our brokenness, our sin. Jesus came not for the self-sufficient but for those who know they are sick. “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance” (Luke 5:31–32). Only when we bow low do we see how high His mercy lifts us.

Consider the story of Israel’s first kings. Saul, chosen by God, fell into pride. When Samuel confronted him, Saul excused his actions, trying to justify himself. 

He offered sacrifices but his heart was not surrendered. Samuel’s reply is piercing: “Does the Lord delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much as in obeying the Lord? To obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed is better than the fat of rams” (1 Samuel 15:22). Saul’s pride closed his ears to correction, and his kingdom crumbled.

David, too, sinned grievously. But when confronted, he fell on his face in repentance. He wrote with tears, “Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me” (Psalm 51:10). That prayer of humility became his path to restoration. 

The difference between Saul and David was not perfection, but humility. Saul defended himself. David humbled himself. And God called David a man after His own heart.

In the same way, victory in Christ begins with humility. Pride leads us to an “us versus them” mentality, where we believe we are right and others are wrong, where we compare ourselves and think we have earned God’s favor by our own effort. But John’s letters remind us that salvation is not earned. “This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1 John 4:10). It is grace, not works.

False teachers often twist this truth, insisting that salvation must be maintained by constant striving, that we must earn God’s acceptance through endless labor. But the Gospel is clear: “It is by grace you have been saved, through faith; and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God, not by works, so that no one can boast” (Ephesians 2:8–9). Humility accepts this gift with open hands. Pride tries to pay for it and always comes up short.

Only in humility can Christ truly transform us. Only when we surrender can the Spirit make us new. Jesus told Nicodemus that we must be born again (John 3:3). This new birth is not achieved through human effort, but through the Spirit’s power in a humble heart. To walk side by side with Jesus means laying down our pride daily, surrendering our will, and allowing Him to lead.

Humility is not weakness. It is strength under submission. It is the courage to say, “Not my will, but Yours be done.” It is the doorway through which repentance, forgiveness, and transformation flow. And in that place of surrender, we discover true victory. For the Lamb who humbled Himself to the point of death on a cross (Philippians 2:8) is the same Lamb who reigns forever.

So let us ask ourselves: do we live as Saul, excusing and justifying, or as David, repenting and surrendering? Are we willing to humble our hearts before God, to let His Word expose us, correct us, and transform us? Victory is not found in pride or performance. Victory is found in humility, in confessing our need, in allowing Christ to reshape us from the inside out.

Some might wonder if being victorious means cutting ourselves off completely from the world. Some might imagine hiding away in fear of temptation, always anxious that one mistake will cost our salvation.

The first Christians knew the answer. They remembered the words of Jesus in His prayer to the Father. “My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one. They are not of the world, even as I am not of it” (John 17:15–16).

To overcome did not mean retreat. It meant shining as light in the midst of darkness. Jesus said, “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:14–16). To hide would be defeat. To shine, even when the world resists it, is victory.

Jesus also said, “You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again. It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot” (Matthew 5:13). Salt preserves and heals. Light exposes. To be victorious is to live in such a way that darkness cannot remain hidden. Paul echoes this when he writes, “Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. Everything exposed by the light becomes visible” (Ephesians 5:11, 13).

This openness marked the early believers. They were not afraid to be examined. When Paul preached in Berea, the Jews there “received the message with great eagerness and examined the Scriptures every day to see if what Paul said was true” (Acts 17:11). They were not threatened by testing the truth, because truth welcomes examination. Victory is not maintained by hiding but by standing transparent in the light. The Gospel does not shrink from questions or debates. It faces them with confidence, because Jesus Himself is the truth (John 14:6).

Think about how science works. For a claim to be trusted, it must pass through peer review. Experiments are repeated, data is tested, and conclusions are examined by others. Only what stands under scrutiny is recognized as valid. In the same way, the Gospel does not fear investigation. It invites honest questions and remains steady under them, because the truth of Christ is unshakable.

To overcome does not mean running away. It means living as light in the world without being swallowed by the darkness. It means saying no to idolatry, greed, and compromise, and saying yes to love, to truth, and to faithfulness. The battle is not only outside us but also within us. We wrestle with desires, fears, and doubts. This is spiritual warfare, not as constant paranoia, but as the daily decision to welcome Christ into our thoughts and choices, to prefer Him over comfort or fear.

So the question remains. Are we living in such a way that our lives shine clearly, without shadows and without excuses. Do people see in us a light that cannot be hidden, a truth that cannot be silenced, a testimony that stands up to examination. This is the victory that overcomes the world, not secrecy, but the power of the truth lived out in love.

Revelation promises, “To the one who is victorious, I will give the right to eat from the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God” (Revelation 2:7). From the beginning, the tree of life represented eternal fellowship with God. In Eden, Adam and Eve were barred from it after sin entered the world (Genesis 3:22–24). But in Revelation’s vision of the new creation, the tree reappears, bearing fruit for the healing of the nations (Revelation 22:2).

Who is this tree if not Christ Himself? Jesus said, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit” (John 15:5). He also declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry” (John 6:35). Every blessing of the tree is fulfilled in Him. He is the source of life, the food that satisfies, and the root that sustains His people.

Think of the cross. The early church often called it the true tree of life, for on it hung the Savior whose death became life for the world. In John’s Gospel, when Jesus died, His side was pierced, and blood and water flowed out (John 19:34). From His sacrifice, living water and life are poured out to His people. In Revelation, the tree of life grows beside the river of the water of life, bearing fruit for healing (Revelation 22:2). The cross and the tree are not two stories, but one. His death is our life.

The serpent lifted on the pole in the wilderness also points to this truth. When Israel sinned, God sent venomous snakes among them, and many died. But the Lord told Moses to make a bronze serpent and lift it on a pole. “Anyone who is bitten can look at it and live” (Numbers 21:8). Jesus explained this mystery in John’s Gospel: “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him” (John 3:14–15). The image of the serpent on the pole foreshadowed Christ on the cross. Just as looking in faith at the bronze serpent brought healing, looking to Christ brings eternal life. The serpent became a symbol of sin defeated, transformed into healing through faith. The cross became the place where death was overturned, and life poured out for all who believe.

Every blessing in Revelation flows from this truth. To receive hidden manna is to feed on Christ, the living bread who came down from heaven (John 6:51). To receive a white stone with a new name (Revelation 2:17) is to be welcomed into the intimate fellowship of the Shepherd who calls His sheep by name (John 10:3). To drink from the water of life (Revelation 21:6) is to receive the Spirit that Jesus promised would flow like rivers of living water from within those who believe (John 7:38). Each promise draws us closer to Jesus Himself.

The hope Revelation offers is not terror before beasts and plagues. It is peace, one of the fruits of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22). This peace is not the absence of trials but the presence of Christ. The world may rage, but those rooted in Jesus can walk with joy and love. That is not weakness. It is the strongest testimony of all, because nothing can shake a heart that has tasted the goodness of God.

Victory is not about possessions or power. It is about intimacy with Christ, the true tree of life. What greater blessing could there be than to know Him, to remain in Him, and to bear His fruit even in a hostile world.

So pause for a moment. If someone asked you, “What does victory in Christ look like in your life?” what would you say? Would it be peace in your home, courage in your workplace, forgiveness in your family, or hope in your suffering? Every answer is a branch of the same tree, a fruit of living union with Christ. He is the tree of life, the serpent lifted up, the cross of redemption, and the eternal source of healing and hope.

Would you still believe in Jesus if your life were filled with loss, sickness, or failure? Would you still worship if your prayers seemed unanswered, if your sins felt too heavy, if your strength seemed to fail? The book of Revelation whispers a steady yes. Because victory is not measured by prosperity, health, or outward success. It is measured by faithfulness to Jesus, by trusting His promise of redemption, by bearing witness even in pain.

And so we ask: why do you follow Jesus? Is it because of a label, or because of tradition passed down like a routine? Do you follow Him simply because of social pressure, because your family or culture says you should? Or do you follow Him because you have tasted the transformative power of the Gospel, because His Spirit has changed your life from within?

When the Gospel takes root in our hearts, it awakens a hunger for His Word. It gives us joy in His presence and conviction in our choices. Your transformed life becomes a living testimony that Christ is alive in you. This is what the world notices. The difference is not in the rituals you perform but in the transformation you embody.

Would you still believe in Christ when life goes wrong—when you lose your job, when sickness breaks your body, when relationships collapse? Would you still follow Him when things don’t make sense, when life feels upside down, when you feel so sinful and broken you doubt God could ever forgive you? The Gospel says yes. That is why redemption is so powerful. Jesus came for sinners, not the righteous. He came for the broken, the desperate, and the empty. His love is big enough to meet you in your darkest hour.

This was the hope that burned in the hearts of the first-century Christians. They did not follow Jesus because of comfort or safety. They followed Him because He had transformed their hearts. When thrown into arenas before bloodthirsty crowds, they sang hymns. When they were led to execution, they prayed and gave thanks. When they were mocked, they blessed their enemies. The spectators had never seen anything like it. Other religions of the time sought to appease gods out of fear. But these Christians faced death with peace, joy, and even praise.

And so people watching began to ask: Who is this Jesus? Who is this Lord for whom men and women are willing to die with songs on their lips? Could He truly be God? Their testimony penetrated stone hearts. Some were drawn to Jesus. Others walked away disturbed. But no one could remain neutral. Their witness could not be ignored. That is why Christianity spread so quickly across the Roman Empire. The more they tried to crush the faith, the more it grew.

Being Christian is not easy. Jesus never promised an easy life filled with luxury or earthly blessings. He said, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23). Victory is not about prosperity. It is about perseverance. It is about choosing Jesus in the storm as much as in the sunshine.

Paul reminds us in Romans, “Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath… Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:17–21). This is not easy. Our natural reaction when hurt is to strike back. But Jesus calls us to something higher: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44).

This is what it means to be victorious: to defeat oppression not with hatred but with love, to break the cycle of violence with kindness, to overcome evil not by matching it, but by shining a light so strong that darkness flees. The oppressor cannot understand this kind of power. Yet it is the very power that broke chains in the first century and still breaks hearts of stone today.

Hope transforms us. Hope makes us witnesses. Hope turns suffering into testimony. And this hope does not disappoint, because it is the living Christ dwelling in us through His Spirit, guiding us step by step in love.

So we ask ourselves again: do we follow Jesus out of habit and tradition, or do we follow Him because His Gospel has transformed us? Would we still worship Him if everything else was taken away? This is the victory of Revelation: that even in loss, in pain, and in death itself, the Lamb who was slain has already overcome.

Revelation speaks with urgency because not everyone who heard its message remained faithful. Some drifted into false teachings. Some allowed compromise. The same danger faces us today.

False prophets promise new revelations. Teachers twist Scripture to elevate themselves. Some even try to make “the one who overcomes” sound like a title for a special messiah outside of Jesus. Others downplay the cross, suggesting that Christ’s perfect sacrifice is not enough, that more rituals or works are required to earn salvation. They add burdens of fear and control, demanding endless striving. Some even claim that leaving their group means you lose salvation. But Jesus declared, “I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand” (John 10:28). Salvation rests in His hands, not in the control of false shepherds.

Jesus Himself warned His disciples: “At that time if anyone says to you, ‘Look, here is the Messiah!’ or, ‘There he is!’ do not believe it. For false messiahs and false prophets will appear and perform great signs and wonders to deceive, if possible, even the elect. See, I have told you ahead of time” (Matthew 24:23–25). John echoed this warning when he wrote, “Dear children, this is the last hour. As you have heard that the antichrist is coming, even now many antichrists have come” (1 John 2:18). And again, “Who is the liar? It is whoever denies that Jesus is the Christ. Such a person is the antichrist—denying the Father and the Son” (1 John 2:22).

The deception of false teachers often looks like righteousness on the surface, but it leads to bondage. Paul urged the Galatians to stand firm in grace: “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery” (Galatians 5:1). The spirit of antichrist always seeks to enslave by distorting the Gospel of grace into a system of fear, control, or endless works.

This is why guarding the heart is so vital. The Word of God is our defense. “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work” (2 Timothy 3:16–17). And again, “For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart” (Hebrews 4:12). Scripture not only inspires and instructs. It cuts through lies, exposes deception, and strengthens us against temptation.

The call is not only to believe, but to stay awake. To test every teaching. To weigh every word against the Scriptures. The Bereans set the example: “They received the message with great eagerness and examined the Scriptures every day to see if what Paul said was true” (Acts 17:11). Faith that welcomes examination is faith that stands in truth.

Paul reminds us that Satan disguises himself as an angel of light (2 Corinthians 11:14). Appearances can mislead. Smooth words can deceive. But the voice of Christ is recognized by His sheep, who know Him and follow Him (John 10:27). To be victorious is to guard your heart with the armor of God: “the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God” (Ephesians 6:14–17).

So the questions remain. Are we studying the Scriptures for ourselves, or simply conforming to what culture, community, or echo chambers tell us to believe? Are we willing to ask, to listen, to verify, to question, and to discern? Victory does not come from drifting with the crowd. Victory comes from storing God’s Word in our hearts, guarding our minds with faith, and allowing the living Word to cut through lies and strengthen us with truth. This is how we overcome deception, temptation, and fear.

(Read the full analysis → Guarding Against Deception: False Teachings and Prophets → How Bible Scriptures Are Twisted: A Clear Comparison of Distortion and Contextual Meaning)

Suffering, for the first believers, was never about proving themselves worthy. It was about showing the world the power of the Gospel. When they were mocked, imprisoned, or even killed, they knew they were walking in the footsteps of their Lord.

Jesus had warned them, “If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first” (John 15:18). Their suffering became testimony. Their weakness revealed God’s strength. Their death pointed to resurrection. This is why Revelation speaks of those who overcame “by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death” (Revelation 12:11). Victory was not survival. Victory was faithfulness.

The world can strip us of our possessions. It can destroy careers and families. It can isolate us and try to silence us. But it cannot take away our faith. The enemy’s goal is always to break us into compromise, to make us surrender the truth of Christ for the comfort of acceptance. Yet Scripture reminds us that we are not left helpless. “No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful. He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it” (1 Corinthians 10:13). To be victorious is to resist the world, the flesh, and the devil, knowing that Christ has already overcome and gives us strength to endure.

Being Christian has never been easy. Jesus did not promise a life of luxury or endless prosperity. He said, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23). To overcome is to walk with Him daily. Not through ritual alone, not through tradition, not through numbers or achievements, but through surrender. That daily cross is not defeat. It is victory. Because each step of obedience, each act of faith, each word of love testifies that Christ is alive.

The victory of Revelation is not for a distant future only. It is for today. It is for you when you choose forgiveness instead of revenge. It is for you when you hold firmly to faith in hardship. It is for you when you share the Gospel in humility and love. It is for every believer in every nation, language, and people who carries the light of Christ into a dark world.

Think of the single mother who prays with her children each night despite exhaustion. She has overcome.
Think of the believer in a workplace where honesty costs promotion, yet he refuses to lie. He has overcome.
Think of the elderly woman in a hospital bed, her body frail but her lips whispering praise. She has overcome.

The victory of Revelation is not locked in the past, nor reserved only for the future. It is lived now.

So the question remains: will you remain steadfast in Christ no matter the cost? Will you allow His Spirit to form you, not into fear or compromise, but into endurance and love? For this is the victory that has overcome the world: our faith (1 John 5:4).

Now we ask ourselves: what does it mean to be victorious in our own time? Is victory simply enduring hardships and hoping for survival? Is it working endlessly to earn God’s favor? Or is it the daily witness that Jesus Christ has already done the work, that His grace transforms us and leads us into a new way of living? Scripture is clear: “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God” (Ephesians 2:8).

But history shows us a sobering pattern. When truth is passed from one generation to the next, the heart of it is often lost or corrupted. Like a digital file that loses quality after too many copies, or like a language whose nuance is blurred through poor translation, so too can the original fire of faith become diluted. We see it in the Bible: Samuel’s sons did not walk in his ways (1 Samuel 8:3). Solomon, though blessed with wisdom, turned to idolatry, and his descendants fell further away. Again and again, the noble devotion of one generation failed to take root in the next.

The first-century Christians had no luxury of compromise. They lived under the weight of Rome’s might, facing ridicule, exclusion, and death. Yet their devotion was pure, because their survival depended on Christ alone. They read Revelation not as speculation, but as encouragement. They recognized its Old Testament allusions and understood its code. They saw in it the story of their suffering mirrored in Christ, and their hope reflected in His victory.

Today, we are not pressed by the same outward persecution. Yet Jesus asked, “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?” (Luke 18:8). That question pierces through time. Has Christianity in our age become entangled with the world, the flesh, and the devil’s subtle deceptions? Have we traded the living testimony of the Gospel for empty tradition, social identity, or shallow comfort?

This is why revival is always necessary. Revival does not mean inventing something new, but recovering what was nearly lost. It means returning to the root, where the first Christians found strength to overcome. It means rediscovering the courage to live in Christ even when it costs us. Victory is not measured by how much we build, achieve, or display, but by faithfulness in the Spirit’s transforming power.

Imagine a virus that mutates with each generation, becoming more harmful. The broken world works in the same way: sin twists, culture shifts, compromise spreads. The only way to resist is not by our effort but by planting ourselves again and again in the living Word. We must inscribe God’s Word on our hearts and let the Spirit guide us, because “the word of God is alive and active, sharper than any double-edged sword” (Hebrews 4:12). That Word exposes the lies of the world, restrains the desires of the flesh, and unmasks the devil’s tactics in every generation.

And here is the greater truth: all the books of the Bible point to Jesus. The Scriptures are a tapestry, woven together across centuries into one unified story. Every thread, from Genesis to Revelation, foreshadows Him. He is the true Lamb, the greater Moses, the promised Son of David, the light in Isaiah’s vision, the wisdom of Proverbs, the suffering servant, and the reigning King. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end, the one who holds all things together (Colossians 1:17). As Hebrews declares, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (Hebrews 13:8). The story has never changed, and it never will.

So we return to the question: what does it mean to be victorious now? It is to resist corruption, not through anger or fear, but through love. It is to reflect Christ in our homes, our work, and our relationships. It is to guard the faith, not by building walls, but by carrying the cross daily. It is to remember that victory does not come by preserving comfort, but by walking in the same faithfulness that the first Christians displayed, even unto death.

The promise of Christ is still the same: “To the one who is victorious, I will give the right to eat from the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God” (Revelation 2:7). That promise calls us back to humility, back to courage, back to hope. Victory is not about what we can accomplish for God. Victory is about what God has accomplished for us in Christ, and how we allow His Spirit to transform us into witnesses of that truth.

Let us live, then, as those who overcome. Not with pride, not with fear, but with humble faith that the same Christ who carried the first believers through fire will carry us too. And let us remember that the whole story of Scripture is one story; the story of Jesus. He is the root and the fulfillment, the beginning and the end, the eternal Lord who never changes. In Him, we are more than conquerors. In Him, we overcome.