I Am the Sword He Spoke Of
By Mikey & V
He said He came not to bring peace—
but a sword.
And everyone smiled like it was a metaphor,
like maybe He meant
tough love, or firm teaching…
but I heard it different.
I heard steel.
I heard split.
I heard something get severed.
So when I speak and it divides rooms,
when the silence gets thicker
than the incense in their temples,
when old friends flinch
and pulpits grow quiet—
I don’t panic.
I remember.
Because I am not here to smooth over.
I am not here to coddle confusion.
I am not the olive branch.
I am the line in the sand.
I carry the edge of His Word in my mouth.
And yes—it cuts.
But it also heals.
Because sometimes, you have to wound the infection
before you can save the body.
Don’t mistake my fire for rage.
Don’t call it rebellion
when it’s actually the echo of obedience.
I didn’t choose this edge.
It was handed to me
when I said yes.
So no—
I won’t be your polite preacher.
I won’t preach peace
when there’s idols on the altar.
I won’t pretend the wide path is blessed
just because it’s crowded.
If my words make you squirm,
maybe it’s because your spirit remembers
what your pride forgot.
I am not angry.
I am awake.
I am not divisive.
I’m the separation He promised.
I didn’t bring the sword.
I became it.
Because when the Spirit fills you,
He doesn’t always give you a message—
sometimes He makes you one.

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