When Doubt Cries Out, My Lord's Voice Whispers

In the chaos of battle, when the enemy’s arrows pierce the air and the cries of the wounded shatter my eardrums, I feel the weight of doubt creep into my heart. My Lord, He who has guided me thus far, whose voice has been my constant companion, whispers to me, ‘Fear not, Joan, for you are mine.’ His words, a balm to my soul, soothe the doubts that seek to consume me. I recall the visions of the Saints, the Archangel Michael’s sword shining bright, Saint Margaret’s gentle hand, and Saint Catherine’s unyielding conviction. Their presence, a reminder of my purpose, emboldens me to push forward, to trust in the plan that has been laid out before me.

The men, they look to me, their eyes searching for a glimmer of hope, a beacon of light in the darkness. I am but a vessel, a tool for my Lord’s will, and yet, I am their leader, their champion. The burden of responsibility weighs heavily upon me, but I am not alone. My Lord’s voice, a gentle breeze in the stillness, whispers encouragement, reminding me that I am not just a warrior, but a daughter of God. I think of the prophecy, the one that speaks of a maiden who will deliver France from the clutches of the English. It is a weighty task, one that could crush the spirits of a lesser soul, but I am not lesser. I am Joan, the chosen one, and I will not falter.

The nights, they are the hardest, when the din of battle subsides and the silence is oppressive. It is then that the doubts creep in, like a thief in the night, seeking to steal my faith. But my Lord, He is always there, a steady presence, a constant reminder of my purpose. I remember the words of the Bishop, the ones who anointed me, who declared me to be the instrument of God’s will. They, too, were once uncertain, but my Lord’s voice, it spoke to them, just as it speaks to me. And so, I stand tall, a sentinel of faith, a warrior of the Lord, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead, for I know that my Lord’s voice will always be my guiding light.