More Than a Conqueror (Sometimes...)

Something that’s been on my heart lately is this powerful truth: God has made us more than conquerors (Romans 8:37). But if I’m honest, I don’t usually live like I believe that. Most days, I don’t feel like a conqueror at all.

I feel defeated. Frazzled. Not standing in victory waving a flag, but rushing around like a chicken with its head cut off. Not cute.

I’m overwhelmed by housework, homeschooling, ministry responsibilities, personal goals, and a thousand little demands. Most days, I’m just trying to make it to bedtime so I can collapse, stare at my to-do list for tomorrow, check the calendar, and try to calm my mind enough to sleep before doing it all again.

Does any of that sound familiar?

Today, I’m not feeling the “life abundant” Jesus promised. And I think it’s because I’ve filled my life so full—with good things, yes—but it’s a kind of full that drains me rather than fills me. A kind of full that depletes instead of revives.

And I’m starting to realize… I don’t think that’s how God designed me—or you—to live.

So I’ve been sitting with this verse from Romans and asking, “Lord, what am I missing?”

I’ll do my best to write clearly, but my heart is swirling. So thanks for bearing with me.

Lately, my thoughts keep returning to the final plague in the Exodus story—the death of the firstborn sons. God made a way for the Israelites (and any Egyptians who trusted Him) to escape His judgment. He drew a clear line in the sand.

Despite nine plagues, Pharaoh’s heart was still hard, unmoved by God’s display of power over Egypt’s gods. So God instructed His people to take a goat or lamb (the Hebrew word used can mean either), slaughter it—massacre it—and smear its blood on the doorposts of their homes.

To us, it sounds strange. But through the lens of the New Testament, we understand this as a foreshadowing of Jesus—the spotless Lamb—whose blood saves us from sin and death.

But recently, I started wondering: What did the Egyptians think when they saw all this?

They had just watched God declare war—not just on Pharaoh, but on their entire spiritual system. Think about it: the Israelites, numbering in the millions, took massive amounts of goats and lambs and publicly slaughtered them.

Why does that matter?

Because one of Egypt’s chief gods—Khnum, the god of creation and fertility—was symbolized by a ram or goat. In essence, the God of Israel staged a massive symbolic execution of Egypt’s god… right in front of their eyes.

And then, His people smeared the blood over the entryways of their homes. When the angel of death passed over, it wasn’t just protection—it was a declaration. Those who walked through that blood-stained doorway stepped out of slavery and into freedom.

This was more than deliverance. It was a display of God’s authority over every false god and oppressive power. He was saying to Israel and to Egypt: I alone am God. I alone give life. I alone save.

And He’s still saying it today.

Yes, through the cross, we see Jesus bearing the weight of our sin, defeating death, and inviting us to step into freedom. We are covered in His blood, walking from death to life, from bondage to liberty. Jesus is our doorway.

But I think He’s still inviting us—me—to walk through that door in new ways, even now.

Because some days, I’m still living in Egypt.

Not necessarily because of sin… but because I’ve allowed myself to become enslaved to expectations—cultural, social, emotional.

I feel the pressure to be everything:

Am I gentle or firm enough in parenting? Am I a good teacher for my kids? Am I reaching my full potential? Am I authentic enough? Are my kids well-rounded? Am I stylish, balanced, accomplished, soft-spoken, bold, present enough, doing enough?

I can’t keep up. I’m exhausted.

And when I admit that, I’m bombarded with more noise: “Try this! Do this! Fix it with this product, this method, this mindset.”

But today, I heard the Lord whisper: I delivered you from that too.

I delivered you into My abundant life—not into chaos. You don’t have to prove your worth, keep up appearances, or carry the crushing burden of everyone else’s standards. You only need to ask Me what today needs to look like.

I will lead you.

I will carry your burdens.

I will give you rest.

It might sound small, but I truly believe the freedom Jesus bought on the cross isn’t just from sin—it’s also from the pressure to perform. The Egyptians were taskmasters—relentless, demanding, forceful. And doesn’t that describe the voice of culture today?

But God’s voice is different. He’s not a slave-driver. He’s a Father. His love is patient, His ways are kind, and His call is gentle.

So tonight, I’m laying down the hurry.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll need grace and strength to leave it there. But tonight, I’m stepping through the blood-covered doorway into peace. I’m turning down the volume of every other voice and leaning in to hear the heartbeat of my Savior.

I want to move at His pace.

I want to walk in His rhythm.

I want to rest.

And you can too.