Surpression

People want power.

Not always the obvious kind.
Not the throne.
Not the title.

Just the feeling.

The feeling of being right.
Of being above.
Of knowing what others don’t know.

So they look.

And look.

And look again.

They scan conversations.
They replay sentences.
They sift through words with quiet suspicion.

Because if they can find it—
the flaw,
the mistake,
the inconsistency—

then they have something.

Leverage.

And leverage feels like power.

It feels like standing a little taller.
It feels like being seen.
It feels like significance.

But there’s a cost.

There’s always a cost.

The Spirit doesn’t force His way into clenched fists.

The Spirit doesn’t shout over the noise of ego.

The Spirit doesn’t compete for control.

The Spirit moves where there is openness.

Where there is surrender.

Where there is space.

And when the goal becomes getting a leg up…
or getting your way…
or proving your point…

that space closes.

Slowly.

Quietly.

Almost invisibly.

Suppression rarely feels like suppression.

It feels like winning.

It feels like clarity.
It feels like strength.
It feels like justice.

But it leaves something behind.

A silence.

A distance.

A subtle disconnection from the very power we were made for.

So the search begins again.

Another flaw.
Another argument.
Another moment to reclaim the feeling.

Because the rush fades.

It always fades.

And it has to be replaced. If this cannot be done feelings of being powerless flood the soul and we can have that now can we?

Bu that just shows the deepest power you can have was never there to begin with.

The deepest power is found Not in being right.

Not in being above.

Not in controlling outcomes.

It’s is found somewhere else entirely.

In brokenness.

In surrender.

In following God.

Because when you stop trying to prove your importance,

you make room for God to reveal His.

And that…

that is power.

Power that does not suppress.

Power that does not control.

Power that is non-suppressive and pure.