By the Blood and the Testimony

By Dylan Verdun Sullivan


As I roll into the weekend, I find myself slowing down in a way that I didn’t realise I needed.
It hasn’t been forced.
It hasn’t been planned.
But it’s happening.
The week has carried weight.
Not just externally, but internally.
even as I go back over my blog entries this week they have been chaos and I have certainly been carrying the weight of the world 
And as I was spending some time in the Word, trying to settle my thoughts and bring everything back into alignment, this scripture jumped out at me.
“And they have conquered him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, for they loved not their lives even unto death.” (ESV)
It stopped me.
Not in a casual way.
Not in a “that’s a nice verse” kind of way.
It stopped me in my tracks.
And I had to read it again.
And then again.
Because there was something in it that felt heavier than just reading.
It felt like it was reading me.
And as I sat with it, I began to think about the last twenty years of my life.
Twenty years of following Christ.
Twenty years of walking through things I never expected to walk through.
And if I’m honest…
That journey hasn’t been clean.
It hasn’t been structured.
It hasn’t followed a straight line.
It has been marked by highs and lows.
Moments of clarity.
Moments of confusion.
Seasons where I felt close to God.
And seasons where I felt like I was holding on just enough to not let go.
And yet, somehow, through all of it…
I’m still here.
Still standing.
Still believing.
Still returning to the gospel 
And that verse started to make more sense.
Because it doesn’t say they overcame by strength.
It doesn’t say they overcame by discipline.
It doesn’t say they overcame by having everything together.
It says they overcame by the blood of the Lamb.
And that shifts everything.
Because that means the victory was never mine to manufacture.
It was already secured.
Not by what I’ve done.
Not by how well I’ve held things together.
But by what Christ has done.
And that’s where the foundation sits.
Because if I remove that…
If I start building my life on my own consistency…
My own discipline…
My own ability to stay strong…
I collapse.
And I’ve felt that.
There have been moments where I’ve tried to carry things in my own strength.
Moments where I’ve tried to fix myself.
Moments where I’ve believed that if I just did better, thought better, acted better, then everything would fall into place.
And it doesn’t work.
Because the gospel was never about me becoming strong enough to hold my life together.
It was about Christ stepping in where I couldn’t.
Taking what I couldn’t carry.
Paying what I couldn’t pay.
And standing in my place.
And that’s what the blood of the Lamb represents.
Not a concept.
Not a symbol.
A reality.
That Jesus Christ, the Son of God, entered into broken humanity and took the full weight of sin, shame, and suffering upon Himself.
Not partially.
Not temporarily.
Fully.
And because of that…
I stand in a position I didn’t earn.
A position of grace.
And that’s what has carried me for the last twenty years.
Not perfection.
Not consistency.
And as I sat with that, the second part of the verse began to open up.
“The word of their testimony.”
And that’s where things become personal.
Because testimony is not theory.
Testimony is lived.
It’s what you’ve walked through.
It’s what you’ve seen.
It’s what you’ve survived.
And if I look back over my life, I don’t just see a timeline.
I see moments.
Moments where things could have gone differently.
Moments where I could have walked away.
Moments where I could have given up.
But I didn’t.
Not because I was strong enough.
But because God was faithful.
And that’s what testimony is.
It’s not a highlight reel.
It’s a record of God’s faithfulness in the middle of your inconsistency.
And that’s what gives it weight.
Because anyone can speak when everything is going well.
Anyone can talk about faith when life feels steady.
But testimony is forged in the moments where things don’t make sense.
Where you feel stretched.
Where you feel overwhelmed.
when tears are rolling down your face and your tears have no language 
when you feel you can't breath and you are getting crushed by circumstances 
Where you feel like you’re holding on by a thread.
And you still choose to believe.
Not because you feel strong.
But because you know who God is.
And that’s where this verse lands for me.
Because it’s not calling me to be impressive.
It’s calling me to be honest.
To speak what is true.
Even when it feels uncomfortable.
Even when it feels exposed.
And that’s where something shifted in me.
Because I realised something.
I don’t need to clean up my story before I share it.
I don’t need to wait until everything is resolved.
I don’t need to present a version of myself that looks stable and complete.
I just need to speak truth.
Even if I’m scared.
Because the power is not in how polished my story is.
you never get cleaned up to have a shower when you are dirty the shower cleans you
The power is in the reality of what God has done in it.
And that removes pressure.
Because now I’m not trying to impress anyone.
I’m not trying to prove anything.
I’m just telling the truth.
And that matters more than I realised.
Because for a long time, I’ve felt the tension of holding things in.
Of not knowing how much to say.
Of wondering whether certain parts of my story are too much, too messy, too unresolved.
But this verse cuts through that.
It shows me that testimony is not about perfection.
It’s about truth.
And truth has weight.
Especially when it’s spoken from a place of real experience.
And that’s where this becomes something more than just a reflection.
It becomes a call.
To not stay silent.
To not hold back the reality of what God has done.
To not minimise the journey.
Because your story matters.
Don’t think otherwise.
And I’m not saying that lightly.
Because I know what it feels like to question that.
To feel like your story is too messy to be meaningful.
Too complicated to be useful.
But that’s not how God works.
He doesn’t use perfect stories.
He uses real ones.
Stories marked by struggle.
Stories marked by failure.
Stories marked by redemption.
And that’s where the power is.
Not in the absence of struggle.
But in the presence of grace.
And that’s what I see when I look back over my life.
Not a perfect journey.
But a redeemed one.
A journey where God has been present in ways I didn’t always recognise at the time.
A journey where even my lowest moments were not outside of His reach.
And that gives me confidence moving forward.
Not confidence in myself.
But confidence in Him.
Because if He has carried me this far…
Through everything I’ve walked through…
Through everything I’ve wrestled with…
Then He will continue to carry me.
And that changes how I approach what’s ahead.
Because now I’m not trying to control everything.
I’m not trying to make everything make sense.
I’m learning to trust.
To trust that the same God who has been faithful in my past will be faithful in my future.
And that trust is not passive.
It’s active.
It shows up in how I live.
How I speak.
How I respond.
It shows up in my willingness to be honest.
My willingness to share.
My willingness to not hide behind a version of myself that isn’t real.
Because at the end of the day…
This is what it comes down to.
The blood of the Lamb has secured my salvation.
And the word of my testimony reflects that reality.
Not perfectly.
Not cleanly.
But truthfully.
And that’s enough.
So as I move into this weekend…
I carry that with me.
Not as a concept.
But as a foundation.
That no matter what I face…
No matter what I feel…
No matter what I walk through…
I stand on something that cannot be shaken.
And that gives me peace.
Not a loud, overwhelming peace.
But a steady one.
The kind that doesn’t depend on everything being resolved.
The kind that doesn’t disappear when things feel uncertain.
The kind that comes from knowing that I am not alone.
And that I never have been.
And maybe that’s what I needed to be reminded of today.
Not something new.
But something true.
And right now…
That’s enough.

About the Author

Dylan Verdun Sullivan is the founder of Refined by Fire Press and an Australian author indexed in the National Library of Australia. As a Level 7 Local Guide with over 1.7 million views on Google Maps, he documents the intersection of faith, recovery, and the light found in ordinary places.

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