Price of anointing

Everyone longs for the anointing.

They hunger for the fragrance of the oil,

the shine of the crown,

the recognition that Heaven has set them apart.

But few will speak of the price.

The crushing.

The pressing.

The fire that births the fragrance.

David was chosen in the quiet—

pulled from the shadows of the sheepfold,

his name whispered by God

before it was ever known by men.

And yet, the moment the oil touched his head,

a target formed on his back.

He stood in the valley and struck down a giant—

and all of Israel sang his name.

But the songs turned into spears.

The applause into pursuit.

And victory’s echo was swallowed

by the sound of footsteps hunting him through the night.

He was anointed to be king,

but slept on the cold stone floors of caves.

He knew the taste of honor—

and the sting of betrayal.

He felt the weight of promise—

and the loneliness of exile.

Because the oil is not only fragrant to Heaven—

it is a declaration of war.

It does not just summon favor—

it awakens resistance.

It draws the eyes of Heaven,

but also the fury of hell.

Anointing does not skip warfare.

It summons it.

It does not bypass the valley.

It walks you straight through it.

It does not shield you from breaking—

it requires it.

And yet…

those crushed in the secret place,

those who choose obedience over comfort,

those who worship with tears in the cave,

will find that the same God who anointed them

is the God who sustains them.

And when the night has ended,

the oil will still be fresh—

and the crown will still be theirs.

Philippians 3:10

“That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death;”