Roar— If You Must

If my soul were worthless,

you would pass me by—

no teeth bared, no roaring,

no fire in your eyes.

You don’t guard empty houses,

or rattle broken doors.

You only raise an army

for what heaven wants restored.

So why the constant warfare,

the pressure, the pursuit?

Why the lies that circle nightly,

trying to loosen truth?

It must be that I matter,

that I’m claimed, not left alone.

That my name is spoken softly

near the mercy seat and throne.

For Christ does not contend for dust,

nor bleed for something small.

He doesn’t crown with purpose

what was meant not to stand tall.

If hell keeps reaching for me,

it’s because I’ve been marked—

a light they want extinguished,

a spark struck in the dark.

So roar if you must, enemy,

show me how afraid you are.

Your fury is my evidence

of who I am, and whose I am.

If my soul were worthless,

you would not know my name.

You wouldn’t stalk my footsteps

or memorize my pain.

You don’t waste breath on nothing,

don’t sharpen claws on air.

You only hunt what’s chosen,

what heaven calls its heir.

You don’t besiege the ruins,

or shout at silent bones.

You roar where life is growing,

where light has found a home.

So why the sleepless nights,

the weight I cannot see?

Why the careful, constant lies

whispered just to me?

Why aim so precisely

at faith instead of flesh?

Why attack the promise

when the wound is still so fresh?

It must be that I matter

more than I’ve understood.

That my life interrupts you,

that my “yes” does some good.

For Christ does not pursue

what was never meant to live.

He doesn’t pay in blood

for a soul with nothing to give.

He doesn’t leave the ninety-nine

for something He won’t keep.

He doesn’t call it treasure

then abandon it to sleep.

If heaven calls me worthy

of such a violent rescue,

then hell’s obsession with me

only proves it’s true.

You circle like a lion,

but lions fear the fire—

the mark of the cross,

the Name you can’t outrun or tire.

You fight because you know

what I could become.

You rage because you’ve seen

what love like His has done.

You remember the day

the stone was rolled away.

You remember the grave

couldn’t make Him stay.

So you scream into my weakness,

hoping I’ll forget

that resurrection power

still answers every breath.

But I am not unguarded,

I am not my own.

I belong to a kingdom

you’ve already lost control of.

So roar if you must, enemy,

make your presence loud.

Your fury is the echo

of a victory already crowned.

Because if you fight this hard for me,

it’s because I’ve been claimed—

loved beyond measure,

redeemed by name.