It is Written.

The Spirit led Him, 
Not to a life of ease,
Or to shiny things,

But to the wilderness.
To barren land and lonely places
To wander, fast, and pray, 
To listen closely
To what His Father had to say. 

And in the hungry and the weary, 
The devil made his entrance. 
His clever lies slithered slow 
Wrapping up, tight
Around the jugular.

His forked tongued jabbed,
Challenging, identity.
Questioning, the very thing 
God spoke over Him on Jordan’s edge,
When the Word fluttered down 
On dove’s wings,
“This is my son,
In whom I am well pleased.”

The devil, with his hands on his hips
And a sly eye, threw back,
“Are you? Prove it! Make yourself some bread.”

In other words, 
“If you have power, then use it!”

And He did,
Not to make bread, 
But it to proclaim 
His Father’s words again.

He began with, 
“It…is…written…”

And by the power of the Word, 
He fought the devil.

Silencing his lies,
He looked to the skies, 
And spoke over and over again 
The battle cry,
“It…is…written…”

And when I am tempted 
So will I.

When those lies crawl up my spine 
I will remember that
He said,
“You are mine. “
It… is… written… 
I am His daughter, 
Adopted in love. 
I have a seat at the table
In heaven above.

It… is… written… 
I am no longer condemned,
But chosen, pursued, 
And called his friend.            

So, when the enemy comes after me 
Heralding accusations, lie after lie,
I will raise my voice 
With my battle cry,

“It… is… written…
I have been forever set free,
By Jesus Christ, who died for me 
And I am sealed and safe,
For all eternity.

Matthew 4:4
But he answered, “It is written, “‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”