It used to bug the living tar out of me when people would tell me that my problem centered around an attack of the enemy.
This is mainly because I used to seriously reject anything that sounded old school christian, overly religious or too churchy. So attacks of the enemy fell under that category for a while.
Then I grew up, I read the bible and was reminded of countless verses and stories where God gave us a window into the ugly battle of it all. There is, in fact, a deceiver who seeks to kill and destroy. This week we’re feeling the sting of attack.
This past month has brought a handful of wounds, inflicted by those people we trust, or trusted rather. And so this evening, we are left confused and empty, totally confused on how to keep going after so many blows in such short order.
My floors are scattered with this mornings PJs and a few wet diapers that haven’t made their way to the trash just yet. My hands are weary, cracked and tired from doing everything I can to distract myself from the problems at hand.
I haven’t stopped busying them all day. I haven’t folded them in prayer or resigned them to receive.
Then it washes over me like it often does. I still believe the lie that I have it handled, that there is no issue I can’t fix, no problem I can’t solve.
And yet really, the mountain of issues out of my control is a mile high and the pile of things I’ve got handled is tiny in comparison.
Then again, perhaps that box doesn’t exist. Because if God is the giver of my morning bowl of Kashi and every breathe I take then truly none of is in in my hands.
Then I feel a gentle tugging on my neck, the hook of Jesus, pulling me out of the brambles I’ve managed to tangle myself in. I’m THAT SHEEP again, the one who wandered away when things got dicey and tried to handle it alone.
His whisper is still and small and I smile, breathe deep and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this will save me.
That this right here is why we minister, for how can we keep quiet about a salvation that finds everyone in every moment. This hope, this peace, this love that never lets go can’t be found in the religious politicking but it can always be found in moments of contrition.
And so contrite I shall be, still and open to receive. And I shall always, always shake my head at what a sheep I am, and likely always will me.
Oh Lord, forgive us, lead us, heal us, sustain us. And may we never forget that we are called to love and forgive as you did, without limits.