The Battle

The sky above bleeds crimson. The field is dark, and the Enemy is coming. Even now, I can see their eyes before me, hungry for flesh. No, I do not battle humans. I battle the worst monsters conceivable. I battle my own demons.

My compatriots are gone, as often happens in war, battling their own demons. Friends become separated while battling enemy hordes intent on their demise.  In my scabbard around my waist lies my sword, and a battle horn hangs by my side.

Three demons encircle me. We are old enemies, and well acquainted with each other. Lust fights independently, while Loneliness and Depression pair up on their opponents, providing a two-pronged attack. I note their weapons. Loneliness's claws are tipped with diamonds, so that they can cut through metal into a man and wound him. Depression carries a weighted net, designed to incapacitate his enemies. Lust holds a whip to entangle, trip, and drive his victims where he wants. But these are not their deadliest weapons. Each of their mouths spits poison and acid which eats away at armor and soul.

I cower behind my shield and cry out to God to come defend me. I know I cannot defeat these enemies on my own. But God whispers to me, "Remember."

"Remember what?" I scream, as blows from the demons hammer me.

"Remember the gifts I gave you. Look around and see. Remember."

My eyes dart to my waist and I see my Sword, still in its scabbard. Above it is my unused horn. I push against the current demon scratching at my shield trying to reach me, and pull out my sword, I swipe at the nearest enemy and cause them all to back away, wary of my blade.

I use my shield hand to grab my horn to summon my friends with three quick notes. Loneliness tries to take advantage of my momentary distraction and spits thick, caustic saliva at my chest. I raise my shield, and thrust the horn to my lips, calling for aid.

Within seconds, two battle brothers who were waiting for my call charge towards my foes and enter the fray. Together, we soundly defeat them and they retreat, running for their very lives. However, In unison, they yell at me, "We'll be back for you. Just wait." The battle is over for now, and we have emerged victorious. The war however, shall continue. And we will face it together, serving God.

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I'll be the first to admit it: I like to shoot myself in the foot whenever I struggle spiritually. I forget all the things God has taught me. Instead of trying to use the weapons He's given me, I cower behind a shield and squeak, "Somebody help me!"

After all, God has told me Truth so many times. He has blessed me with wonderful, deep, meaningful friendships and people whom I can count on. But do I utilize these things when trouble comes? NO!

Times of trouble tend to show me to be an idiot. I easily forget so much! And worse, I let Pride influence me, thinking that I should be able to handle these enemies on my own. And then (you guessed it!) I fail miserably, and end up retreating before the onslaught. Why can I not remember the truth? But as Pilate once asked, What is Truth? Or for me, what is the truth I should remember?

First, God loves me and cares for me so much that it boggles my mind even to think about it. He does not leave me to struggle defenselessly. He gives me weapons to defeat my enemies and tells me who I truly am: I am His. In Him lies my identity, and in Him only. This is the Truth that empowers my Sword. And that's not all.

I have friends. I have people who will come and lift me up in prayer if I ask them. I have men who will come alongside me and help me carry my burdens. I have "battle brothers" who will come to my aid if I let them know of my troubles. All I have to do is send out the call and tell them I'm in trouble.

Remember the goodness of God and utilize the weapons He gives me; that is how to win spiritual battles. Not by my own pitiful strength, but by His grace. God, help me never to forget that.

You are Holy and most worthy of Praise.

Alone?

Angry. Secretive. High walls built up and lined with barbed wire and broken glass.  Time spent more on my computer and no time spent that I didn't have to with my friends at school. I kept rage and hatred bottled up inside and refused to show anyone the truth in my heart. I was alone and pretended to be satisfied. I was lonely.

This is who I was less than a year ago.

Wrathful. Angry. Manipulative. Sensuous. Cut apart from God. Using people only for what I could get from them and then tossing them away like rags. Evil. Alone. Lonely

This is who I could be.

I know these things. I have spent time (maybe too much) searching the depths of my heart, exploring the dark parts of my soul, and remembering the boy I used to be.

Last Saturday was my birthday. I thought about my life and who I could become, and I was scared. I knew these things like I know the lines in the palm of my hand. I knew that only one step, one decision, one false move could take me to one of those two places, those two people I could be. At least, that's how it felt.


I felt alone and unloved, despite all the well-wishes of my friends who tried to show me they cared. I struggled under the oppressive weight of this knowledge. Finally a good friend came and told me some things I needed to hear.

Who I was and who I could be are not that important. God knows both of them even better than I do. He is not surprised by anything I do. He loves me anyway.

Who I was and who I could be are not who I am.

Beloved. Planned for. Redeemed. Adopted. Forgiven. Sacrificed for. Inseparable from God. Protected.

Never alone.

This is who I am.

I don't have to be alone! I don't have to believe the lie that I am unloved and am a few steps from falling away from God. It's not true!

So I don't have to be afraid anymore. I don't have to kill myself over who I could be or who I was. Instead I need to focus on who I am, on being God's child. That will be my focus for the days to come. For the new year that God has blessed me with. And maybe, in some small way, for the rest of my life.

Holy Is God and He is most worthy of praise.

Pictures

"The LORD your God is with you,
   he is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
   he will quiet you with his love,
   he will rejoice over you with singing."

                       -Zephaniah 3: 17 (NIV, 1984)
Many people know the first part of the verse, popularized in the worship song, "Mighty to Save." But there is so much more to be found in this small gem, this small promise God made to Israel and to us than a song title.

Take the next three lines. "He will take great delight in you/He will quiet you with his love/He will rejoice over you with singing." Three facts about God and his affections for me are shown here and they amaze me.

First, God takes delight in me. I have thought many times, "Yes, God loves me, he takes delight in me, he created me, yada, yada, yada." But the wonder is that God, a Being utterly complete in and of Himself, decided to create me and delights in His creation of me. And in me, myself! Now, that point, wonderful as it is, happens to be only the beginning.

Next it says, "He will quiet you with his love." The only idea I can think of that is similar to this is a picture, or a snippet of time. After falling down or getting hurt in some way, I would go to my mother or father, crying in pain. The they would pick me up, put my head on their shoulder, pat me on the back and say, "Sshh! It's okay. I've got you now." They would continue to say that until I calmed down, simply holding me.

God says that He will do the same for us, for me. When I hurt, when I am in pain, I can go to my Father. I can go to God, the Creator of the universe, the Great I AM, and He will hold me in his arms, calm me and whisper to my soul, "It will be okay. Don't worry. I've got you now." He loves us and wants to be there for us. For me. For you. It's astounding!

But that's not all. Look at the last line. "He will rejoice over you with singing." Now, first off, when I read this. I think of God singing literally over me in Heaven, in some abstract way. I distance myself from Him. But that's not what it says. In the original Hebrew, the word "over" used in this verse can be a preposition of place, meaning where in space God is singing, but it also can mean "because of." Look at it this way. "He will rejoice with singing, because of you."

God loves you so much He bursts into song whenever he looks at you! He can't contain the joy He finds in loving you.

I read this and I am amazed. God loves me that much? But I thought he was always dignified, slightly aloof, or at least not given to bursting out in song at random. But that's not the image of God portrayed here. Here, God is shown to be a Lover, a Father and a Creator. Not just words, but images, pictures describing Him.

God's love overwhelms me. I can only hope as I grow in Him and learn more that I continue to be overwhelmed by His love.

Holy is He and most worthy of praise.

Flowers

A seed develops in my heart. Someday, it will grow into one of the most beautiful of roses. But for now it is just a seed. Then a peddler comes along, selling roses. They’re beautiful. Their fragrance is strong, heady. The price? A seed. Harmless, of course. After all, he only wants to keep a small token for something grand.  A bargain, a picayune seed for an exquisite flower.

I pluck my seed and give it to him. He hands me the flower and snatches the seed from my hand. Cradling the stunning work of art in my hands, I turn and walk away.  Suddenly storm clouds race for position and rain starts to fall. Behind me, finally out of my hearing, the peddler begins to cackle. He holds the seed in between his thumb and pointer finger, raises it above his head and then throws it to the ground with all his might. The seed  bounces on the packed earth from the force but then lands on the road. The peddler raises his leg and brings his foot down on the seed with all his might.

Having made sure the seed is dead, he then looks at my retreating back. He starts to laugh. The rose I clasp in my hands is made of plastic and fabric, sprayed with perfume just moments before he approached me.  He is satisfied. He turns away and begins to hunt for more seeds to crush.

A man emerges from the field surrounding the road. He saw everything. He looks to the ground and sees the poor, helpless, crushed seed. He picks it up gently and takes it to his home, planting it in good soil quickly, whispering hopes and love to it.

I return home and smell the rose. The scent is gone. I touch the petals and feel the weave of the cotton fabric used for them. I rub the leaves and find cold, synthetic plastic, not organic life. I realize to my despair I have been duped. I crumple in tears, holding the fake flower in my hand. Days pass like this. Finally, I look at it again. 

This is as good as it will get, I tell myself. It’s your own fault for being deceived. Now you have to make do with what you have.

I get up and put the plastic stem in a pot and then start to fill the pot with soil. The seed is gone. This shall be the flower that I was supposed to have.  In vain I leave it in the soil and begin to treat it as a real flower, watering it and giving it sunlight.

Months, then years pass and I forget all about the seed I gave up. This is the only flower I deserve.

 Then, one strange day, as I was going about my duties, a stranger walks up to me and says, “Come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to show you something, something you have needed and wanted but have forgotten.”

Perplexed, I follow him to his home.  There he shows me a pot with a crimson rose in it. Never before had I seen such a beautiful flower. I go over and smell it. A heavenly scent rushes into my nostrils. I lean over and fell the leaves and the petals. The leaves are fresh and the petals soft.  I tell him that he is a supreme gardener and that his rose is beautiful.

He just looks at me and says, “It is not mine.”

“Then whose is it?”

“Yours,” he answers simply. Then he tells me of how he saw the ordeal with the peddler, picked up the seed, and carried it home to take care of it.  Ever since, he had been patiently waiting to find me and give it back, but only at the right time. Today, when it bloomed for the first time, he knew it was time. He went out and searched until he found me, and the rest I knew myself.

He finishes his story and reaches over to the pot. He cradles it in his hands then holds it out to me. “This is yours.”

I am amazed and incredulous. I stammer, “Surely, it belongs to you! You took care of it–”

“I did so only for you. It is my gift to you.”

I take the pot warily. “Of course you want something in exchange for such a gift, am I right?”

He gazes into my eyes and grasps my upper arms. “I ask only for this: Take care of it and nurture it as your own.” He releases my arms and bids me farewell. I wave goodbye and start to walk home, astounded at the gift and its giver’s generosity. I stare at the wonderful plant

I have finally regained my flower. And it is more beautiful than I could have imagined.

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Many times I have fallen for the “Peddler.” He tricked me into giving up my hopes and dreams of love and friendship and gave me something pathetic in return. I however thought it was all I deserved, all I would ever get. I thought that for years.

But God remembered my dreams. He took the “seeds” and nurtured them and gave them back to me, better than I thought I would ever get and much better than I hoped for.

Don’t settle for something lesser than what God has for you. Remember your dreams, your heart’s desires. Satan will try to deceive you into giving them up for a pitiful version while he dances over you’re their deaths. 

But God will remember them. He knows your dreams and he will give you the deepest desires of your heart in His excellent timing. Sometimes you just need to wait.

Holy is He and most worthy of praise.