It’s been a little over 3 weeks since Christmas. 3 weeks since celebrating His birth. And already…I’ve shut myself in the bathroom. Hid. Begged God to come right now.
We have friends hurting. We have friends moving. We have friends fighting battles no one saw coming.
And as long as we’re here…these battles will continue.
Sin will consume us. Threaten our very lives. Steal our joy. Force us into locked bathrooms. And that “roaring lion” will keep scratching on the door. Telling us over and over again…it’s just too hard.
“And one of the elders said to me, “Weep no more; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.” (Revelation 5:5)
But Jesus is the Lion who will devour the devourer.
Where Satan comes to destroy, Christ comes to do battle.
In wherever you’ve found yourself in 2017. Death. Suffering. Sorrow. Questions.
He. Is. There.
To keep fighting for you.
” All the tomorrows of our life have to pass Him before they can get to us.” (F. B. M.)
Yesterday I had some tough moments with one of our boys (name omitted to protect the guilty). I gave grace. I gave threats. I gave Jeremy desperate texts. Nada. Nothing helped. So, I did the mature thing and sent the offender to his room and locked myself in the bathroom.
“Okay, God, I really can’t do this today. It’s “wreck week.” I’m a little on edge to begin with. Help me here. I’m at the end of my rope.”
And there, in the midst of my snot and tears, the Holy Spirit spoke. Quietly. Simply. His voice in my soul was so real I could almost hear it.
“Tiff, this battle is not against your son. He is not the enemy. This battle is not against bad behavior. He is a sinner just like you. This battle…it’s against Satan. He wants your kids. He is a ‘roaring lion seeking whom he may devour.’ This is spiritual warfare you’re in. It’s not a discipline problem. It’s a battle against a real enemy. And as frustrated as you feel right now at your son. He is not the enemy.”
I unlocked the bathroom door and scribbled my thoughts in a journal. Then I walked to the other room and sat down on our son’s bed. I cried. For the first time in weeks I saw him as God’s masterpiece. I didn’t see him as a project. I didn’t see him as a mountain I must face each morning. I saw him as a little boy in battle. Not in battle against Mom and Dad. But in battle against the “Prince of the power of the air.”
We talked. I cried some more. He fought the tears away. And we hugged.
Dear Son-We are in battle together. I will fight for you with my prayers. I will give you grace when you fail. I will love you on this journey.