2022-09-28 A Meditation on Strength for the Battle

“The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble.” (Ps 9:9 ESV)

Time given to reflection, to prayer, somehow we hope that things will surface, reminder bells will ring, souls will be studied and suited for incorporation into this our homestead. That is, we long to be able to say, this one was a flaming firebrand, a burning wick, a testament to Faith in Jesus, before we go about measuring and scientifically judging and excluding the undesirable. That is, we are in one or two simple ways called to walk on water and in this walk to make fuss and circumstance around loving what is unlovable. For that is each of us, each of us spoilt, self-interested, in moments of down time blatantly impudent or hardheaded. That is, we can scientifically point to a level called “miracle”, called “testimony”, called “healing”, as worth more than any material qualities of body and mind.

For who knows but to have this our homestead, to which we race and which involves a great many of our prayers today, recognized as needing healing? That is, we also heal ourselves and this our home by drawing near to the outsider, not the enemy as perceived—strong, laudable, frightfully noble—but the enemy of all of our souls, an enemy within and unfavorable to gaze upon, ugly and plaintive, dissuading us because of its need and its clamor for attention. This ugliness hidden in beauty all around us, is the enemy we long—scientifically, even—to engage with via prayer and to help us to discern and sense out and put on the radar our own digs, our own fortress, our own trench warring.

Friends across the lines, this arises when the lines are not with a mirror image of our better selves, but when we begin to see and find a certain love for the unkempt and unsophisticated, unschooled, ignoble, needing basic training in manners and polite discourse. That is, we fight against this our equal on some level, but try to move beyond that and to see all as needing the saving Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, all as mesmerized and walking in lockstep either unto goodness or unto petulant, incorrigible, untenable evil. The evil is our unfortunate burden to carry, insofar as it will lash out and refuse to go down easy; it is a duel unto the death. But we believe these things are vouchsafed unto a spiritual level near to the heart but distant from the blade and the sword on some level: it is a forward war we are fighting, knowing our visions and battlelines drawn today will in the by-and-by be the real ones. Such is the call to prophesy, to be warrior of prayer, to put aside amelioration and compromise, not in attacking any soul or person, but in attacking a relentless foe called Possession, Sin, Confusion (thanking God that He spells confusion for the wayward, binding them up until they might be brought to the light of day), Discord, Enmity towards loved ones, Raucous laughter, Unwellness.

Indeed, it is humbling, because we wanted to do great things with this our educated mind and able body, but sometimes it seems we are mocked and asked to show forth a most basic self that is itself healed of addictions, resolute against sin, desiring of more noble things. And then we forget, that we too once walked in infamy. We too dreamt alongside the terrorist or the enemy of all things holy and true. We too were tuned in to an unconverted platform, and the world was quickly drawing lines of battle, so that we perhaps in the nick of time did escape. Now that escape is clarion call to see stages, and all the world partitioned, and part and parcel of each neighborhood and community on its own verge either of damnation or of correct choice, this day, to follow Jesus and in this to give thanks.

So in weariness, in many words but few accomplishments, in our defeat is where somehow God works with the rags and tattered garments. Here we somehow lance forth, shine bright, attest—is it as simple as this—to God the Author and Judge and Assessor. It is our own enemy within, not the easy lines about the vague waywardness, but true encounter with our own despair and sin we can scarcely look upon. This is us, tattered, but Resurrected. This is us witnessing miracle each and every hour. This is prayer answered, and no fear regarding prep time and good and ill seasons and half-hearted outlays: we are all in; we are this day serving; we are unable to long remain in sin or discord, because He carries us forth as those Elect and Saved from before we knew our mother’s arms and our father’s embrace. Thus and such we shall sing of and proclaim, and thus and such we shall do with no fear of the awkwardness or the strange gaze, as though something strange were happening. We are those who Belong, and in this, we are those who are Carried and Brought to know ourselves and mystically thereby to fortify that precious homestead.