You cannot have them. They do not belong to you. I see God in their eyes, feel the tug of His Spirit threading our heart-strings together. We are His sons, His daughters. You have no claim on us; you lost it in a moment, a sliver of time that echoed through eternity, that whisper of the Lamb: It is finished.
Jesus Christ. (Even now, do you feel the urge to bow?) His blood covers us. His Spirit fills us. His authority goes before us. His protection goes behind. His word springs from our lips, alive and active. His love wells up in our hearts, driving out fear.
For many years, we have forgotten. We have been foolish enough to believe your lies. We have been arrogant enough to battle you in our own strength. But no longer. Our Father is restoring the hearts of His children, free from the caskets we covered them in. He is stirring up the ashes of a long-dead flame, the coals set aglow by the taste of His breath. It is a fire many waters cannot hope to quench. It is a fire that burns forever.
We will no longer stand quietly by while you rip our brothers and sisters to bleeding bits. We will no longer back down at the first sign of the fray. Our God is for us, and you will not stand. His seal upon our hearts, upon our arms. His Name, written on our foreheads. (Can you even bear to look?) The victory is ours. Through grace, we are learning how to wield it.
So back the Hell away. Or we'll send all of Heaven after you.