By Sherita Jones | The Anointing Grace
A Field-Note from the Middle of the Storm
Let’s just start here:
“Then David arose from the earth, and washed, and anointed himself, and changed his apparel, and came into the house of the LORD, and worshipped: then he came to his own house; and when he required, they set bread before him, and he did eat.”
2 Samuel 12:20 KJV
David’s baby had just died. The prophecy over his house was a mess. Grief still clung to his robe. Yet he got up, rinsed the dust off his face, changed what he was wearing, and walked straight into the presence of God.
That’s the move, sis.
Sometimes the most violent act of faith you can muster is to peel off yesterday’s garments of despair and step into praise that still smells like fresh tears.
Decide This Is the Last Day You Let Weariness Dress You
I’m not talking about faking it. I’m talking about refusing to let your soul keep sagging like a coat three sizes too big. Yes, the flesh feels every blow. Yes, the bills are real, the custody war is real, the betrayal is real. But you are seated in heavenly places (Eph 2:6), and nothing slips past the throne unnoticed.
Either that’s true, or we’re playing church. I choose to believe it’s true, even while crying with tears running down my face.
Rejoicing Is More Than a Mood; It’s a Military Tactic
The Hebrew root for rejoice paints the picture of “placing joy as a boundary that consumes chaos.”That means every hallelujah you squeeze out erects a fence the enemy can’t hop.
New Testament Greek pushes it further: rejoicing is responding to grace, not to circumstances.
So when you lift your hands while your life is on fire, you are testifying, Hell, you do not own my soundtrack. And heaven answers with strength.
“Then he said unto them, Go your way, eat the fat, and drink the sweet, and send portions unto them for whom nothing is prepared: for this day is holy unto our Lord: neither be ye sorry; for the joy of the LORD is your strength.”
Nehemiah 8:10 KJV
Trust Feels Like PTSD When Obedience Keeps Hurting
I know. “Trust Me” can sound hollow when past obediences left bruises. But trust is never wasted. It is seed, sometimes buried so deep it looks dead. Due season is God’s vocabulary; our clocks just can’t pronounce it.
Deep Calls to Deep
Psalm 42:7 isn’t poetry for coffee mugs; it’s a field manual for survivors:
“Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts: All thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.”
Psalm 42:7 KJV
If the deep is calling you, it’s because there’s a depth in you that shallow water can’t reveal. Storms are sometimes answered prayers for intimacy you didn’t know how to articulate.
Practical Switches for Today
Here’s how to trade your old garments for new garments. Instead of spiraling into a complaint, pause for five minutes of gratitude naming ten mercies out loud. Even if you have to whisper them through tears. Instead of scrolling on social media, shut the app and open your Bible, reading a Psalm aloud like medicine to your spirit. When you feel the familiar ache of “Why me?” rising, ask instead, “Lord, what in me are You refining?” And when you’re stuck in survival mode, barely getting by, intentionally carve out space for a scheduled worship break, even if it’s just two minutes in a bathroom stall with your head bowed and hands lifted. These are my garment exchanges. Not because everything around me has changed, but because I am choosing to.
The Storm Is the Proof
If chaos has circled your address, you are not the abandoned step child; you are the blood bought threat. The attack only verifies the oil.
So wash your face. Anoint that forehead. Change your clothes. Step into the house of the Lord, even if the “house” right now is the driver’s seat, the laundry room, or the one square foot of floor next to your kids’ bunk beds.
Lift up a yet-praise:
I still trust You.
I still believe You.
I rejoice, not because life is easy, but because You are worthy.
God will hear you, and you’re executing vengeance on the adversary. And your soul, once cast down, finds its song again.
“Let the saints be joyful in glory: Let them sing aloud upon their beds. Let the high praises of God be in their mouth, And a twoedged sword in their hand; To execute vengeance upon the heathen, And punishments upon the people; To bind their kings with chains, And their nobles with fetters of iron; To execute upon them the judgment written: This honour have all his saints. Praise ye the LORD.”
Psalm 149:5-9 KJV
The evil that the adversary meant to break you is being turned for your good. Yes, in this flesh, we feel it all, the sting of betrayal, the weight of heartbreak, the ache of mental exhaustion. Every blow, every tear, every what seems like unanswered prayer, we’ve known them. But here’s the truth: we don’t live from that place. We rise above it. We don’t identify with the pain; we identify with Christ. Our identity isn’t found in what we’ve lost, what we’re fighting through, or what’s been said about us, it’s found in Jesus.
Have you taken the time to really know Him in the fire? Because the storm, the suffering, the waiting room of your breakthrough, it’s not wasted. It’s holy ground. These trials, the proving of your faith, the pressure that makes you want to quit, this is your opportunity. Not just to believe in God, but to know Him. To press past the noise and pain and encounter the God who shows up in midnight praise. Because sometimes the weapon isn’t just your strength or just your strategy, but also your sound.
Don’t be weary in well doing, friend. Change your garments and rejoice. The storm you’re standing in is already an answered prayer, and the God of perfect peace is tailoring victory in a size made just for you.
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