AND having done all, to stand.” But is not this then easy enough, is it not a matter of course that one stands, or remains standing, when one has overcome everything? If one actually has overcome everything, what then would be able to pull one down? If one has actually overcome everything, then is there anything more against which one has to stand? Oh, that experienced apostle knew well whereof he spoke! It follows as a matter of course that one who cowardly and fearful never exposes himself to danger, never triumphs, never overcomes anything; that he is, on the contrary, the one overcome is conceded in advance, because he gave up. But, on the other hand, just when a man has overcome everything, he is perhaps nearest to losing everything—if at that moment he loses anything, he really loses everything, which too is only possible for one who has won everything. The moment of victory is perhaps the most difficult of all, far more difficult than any moment of conflict. Precisely the cry of victory, “Everything is decided,” is perhaps the most ambiguous word of all, if at the very second it is uttered, “now everything is decided,” it means that “everything is lost.” Consequently there is something to be said about standing after having overcome everything; moreover, it is really only from that moment that anything can really be said about it.

Now we are ready to understand the concept of overcoming. When you say that one overcomes something, you picture him to yourself as bent forward to push against that which is resisting him. Hence, in the most profound sense, there can be no talk about standing; for although the resistance stands against him, in another sense it holds up the one who leans forward against it. But now, now everything has been overcome. Now it depends on his standing and on his continuing to stand, so that he does not lose the victory as swiftly as he won it. Is this not so? The weak, the timorous, succumb to the resistance; but the courageous, who boldly walks into danger, if he falls, he really falls, as we say, over his own legs: as courageous he overcomes the opposition, and yet he falls. He does not fall in the danger but in his impetus, hence because he did not stand.

Paul says in another place, that we are more than conquerors through faith. But can one do more than conquer? Yes, one can, if one stands after having conquered, preserves the victory and abides in the victory. How often has it not been seen that the one who had conquered had also exerted himself so, that, unlike that Greek commander, he did not even need one more such victory—for this was enough for his destruction! How often has it not been seen that the one who had lifted a weight, could not support the weight after having lifted it; or that the one who pressed victoriously against the storm without weakening, exhausted could not endure the calm which came with the victory; or the one who was so hardy he could endure all the changes of weather, heat and cold, but could not stand the strong breeze at the moment of victory! And how often has not a victory been won in vain, if the victor then became proud, conceited, arrogant, self-satisfied, and thus lost just through having conquered!

If we were then to express in a qualification of the thought, what lies in that apostolic word (to stand after having overcome everything), we should have to say: spiritually understood there are always two victories, a first victory, and then the second by which the first victory is preserved. We certainly cannot express the distinction between the godly and the worldly more accurately than by saying: the worldly always talks only about one victory, the godly always about two. That no man should deem himself happy until he is dead (and thereby has left it to the survivors), that idea the worldly mind can also get into its head; but, on the contrary, the worldly mind will become impatient when it hears anything said about the second victory.” There will, namely, be talk to some purpose about this, or about standing after having conquered, if a man happens to fail in that on which the worldly mind naturally sets the greatest store, to fail in that for whose sake one has endured all the hardships of war; for if this is so, a man never has a chance to be proud of the victory he is granted, not even at the very moment.

On the contrary, at the very moment of his triumph, when he wishes to make preparation for the celebration of the triumph, just at that very moment the godly reflection carries him into a new conflict, in every way the most difficult one, because it is the most inward one, because in it he strives with himself and with God. If he falls in this conflict, then he falls by his own hand; for physically and externally understood, I can fall by the hand of another, but spiritually there is only one who can destroy me, and that is myself; spiritually a murder is inconceivable—certainly no man of violence can murder an immortal spirit. Spiritually only self-destruction is possible. And if a man triumphs in this second fight, it precisely signifies that he gets no honor from the first victory; for conquering signifies in this connection, giving God the honor. In the first conflict, he fought against the world for the victory which was won; in the second conflict he fights with God about that victory. A man only stands then after having overcome everything, when he immediately, at the very moment of victory, ascribes the victory to God. As long as he was striving, the opposition would, in a certain sense, be that which helped him to stand; but when he has ascribed to God the honor of the victory, God is the support by whose help he stands. That it was also through God’s assistance that he conquered (although there can also be victory in an external sense without God’s assistance) is certainly possible; but God’s assistance does not really become clear until after man has conquered. Oh, in the eyes of the world, what folly: to need God’s assistance most of all after one has conquered!

It is such a twofold conflict or twofold victory we shall now make the object of a more intensive reflection, as we speak about: