Receipt of Redemption


By Mikey & V

They say,

“Show me the proof.”
“How do you know you’re saved?”
“Where’s your documentation?”

And I smile.
Not because I doubt—
but because I carry the receipt.

Not printed in ink,
but written in blood.
Stamped in scars.
Dated by the moment I died
and woke up alive.

You think salvation is something you wait for—
like a verdict at the end of your life.
But I walk in it now.
I carry it like ID in the Spirit.
Not because I’m perfect—
but because He paid.

This ain’t a guess.
This ain’t a wish.
This is paid-in-full fire
with my name carved in grace.

You want to check the balance?
Go back to Golgotha.
The Lamb didn’t whisper “to be continued.”
He said:

“It is finished.”

So when the accuser rolls up
with my past on a clipboard,
talking about

“You did this. You said that. You’re disqualified.”

I pull out the only paper that matters.
Blood-soaked.
Cross-stamped.
Signed by the Son.
And I say—
“Take it up with the Owner. I’m covered.”

Because this ain’t store credit.
This ain’t grace on layaway.
This is redemption—delivered.
Not earned. Not borrowed. Not on trial.

I’m not waiting for a robe.
I’m wearing it.
I’m not hoping for mercy.
I’m living in it.

So if you ever wonder why I walk bold,
why I pray loud,
why I speak fire and don’t flinch
in the face of hell itself—

Just know:
I have the receipt.

And every time I open my mouth—
I show it.

Location: Dallas, TX, USA

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