One Foe at a Time

     I have noticed in the armor of God, we have a shield to block the fiery darts of the enemy, but we do not have bows or arrows. Apparently we are meant for hand to hand combat. That is certainly how it feels when I am fighting temptation. Christ has won the war, and when we are with him we will enjoy the spoils. Meanwhile we battle our Enemy, the sin in the world, and the sin in us. We are not alone, we are part of the army that is the church. We know a battle rages around us--the clash of two great forces, but we cannot concern ourselves with that. We must focus only on the foe in front of us.
     One of the problems is that our attackers are like those in video games, the sins we think we have conquered spring back to life. The good news is, so do we. Our defeats are only temporary. And if they leave us exhausted from the effort, we are also better prepared for the next attack. Christian soldiers do not get to fire arrows from safety behind a wall, as if we could eradicate sin all at once.  We fight hand to hand, sin by sin, one foe at a time.

New Perspective

     On our last trip to Missoula it really bothered me that my car was so dirty. This is winter in Montana--snow melts, slush splashes on your car, if you wash it, it will get splashed again when you leave the car wash--and your doors might freeze shut. However, I was more worried about hitting a deer on our way home, since my husband had hit one the week before. Technically, the deer hit him, but his car couldn't tell the difference. So I insisted on an early departure from Missoula to lessen the likelihood of deer dents, although most of the dead deer I saw on the way there were between Kalispell and Lakeside. So we left Missoula in time to get most of the way home before sunset. We even had time to stop in Polson for dinner. While I was at the salad bar, I heard a woman say "gold Impala". We drive a gold Impala, I knew she did not have good news.
    Actually it was mixed news, she had backed into our car--that was bad, but she came to find us instead of driving off--that was good, she offered to pay for the damage--also good, but she didn't want to go through insurance--that was scary. I understand the feeling of being an insurance hostage.  We pay for auto insurance for decades, but are afraid to use it lest they make the price to not use it even higher. We were sympathetic, but not stupid. There is a big difference between admitting the damage and writing the check. So my husband took pictures of the damage, had her write a statement admitting responsibility, and had the restaurant manager sign as witness.
     It's funny how your perspective changes. Suddenly it no longer mattered that my car was dirty. I told Reed he might as well hit a deer. He did drive over one that had already been hit, but managed to straddle it so there were no deer parts mixed with the dirt on our car. The damage was fixed in a week, her check arrived days before the paint dried. My Impala looked not only undamaged, but shiny and new. Then more snow melted. Now it is dirty. No big deal. New perspective.

Holding Hands

      Since I posted this on Facebook, I forgot to post it in my blog. It is a Valentine's Day poem I wrote for the husband who has held my hand and heart for nearly forty years.

          

     Holding Hands

                                      We still hold hands,

but they are old hands

with age spots, crepey skin,

yet warm enough.

Those early years

short on money

long on kids, holding jobs,

just holding on.

And later on

our children have grown

our savings too, leisure time,

enjoying life.

 Decades ago

I knew this day would come,

growing old, side by side,

still holding hands.

3 1/2 Years

    In the book of Revelation I am studying this year in BSF, there is significance to the time period three and a half years. It occurs five times either as years, 42 months or 1260 days, which is half of the seven year tribulation period. But three and a half years is also the length of Elijah's drought, the approximate length of Jesus' earthly ministry and Paul's training by Christ in the desert.  More significant to me personally is the three and a half years I spent in the school of depression, which included times of drought, ministry and training.
     And I am not the only one. As I entered those dark times, a friend told me he had previously been depressed for three and a half years. At the time I thought I could not survive if mine lasted that long, but here I am. Another friend I was talking to recently realized that a period of trial that appears to be ending in her life has also lasted three and a half years. It made me wonder how long my current time of tribulation will last. When do I start the timer? Do I count from our son's accident in September, losing our granddaughter when our son and her mother broke up the March before, or when we lost our unborn grandchild that January? I vote for January, not only because it would make the testing over sooner, but because that was a very hard time for us. In our mostly unspoken way, my husband and I have been in mourning since the baby I called Peanut died.
     I would like to think this time of testing and training will not last too long, but I do not have unrealistic expectations about the length of our son's rehab. Suffering is a painful part of life, but it is also purposeful. It is an essential element of the all things God works together for good in our lives. (Rom. 8:28) Suffering shows us the sufficiency of God's sovereignty. It is a lesson I intend to learn, even if it takes me three and a half years.

How Wisdom Grows

     The Bible tells us how to grow patience. James 1:2-3 tells us patience grows in the mixed soil of faith and trials. In other words, patience increases through the times that we desperately need it. So what about wisdom? Both Psalms and Proverbs state that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. If that is the root, then how do we nurture the plant? I am afraid the answer is the same. Wisdom grows in the potting soil of trials, when we have no idea what to do, in the times that we desperately need it.
     I am in one of those growing seasons. I have prayed for wisdom because God has promised to give it, but He does not pour it in our ear while we sleep. Wisdom is like a muscle and, like all other aspects of becoming Christlike, we have to work at making it stronger. And it becomes stronger when we stretch and strain to reach the right decision, to say the right thing, to fan a fading flicker of faith until it can dispel the darkness. Wisdom is not a destination, it is a journey. And we do not reach it, we just read the signs along the way that show we are getting closer. When you can be content and faithful on that journey, knowing you will never arrive--that's wisdom.