The Invisible War

Crouched down in the dirt and tall grass, your body shakes with the shock of battle. Your breathing is heavy... your eyes weak and sad. You grasp your weapon tightly in your hand. You check your six: all clear. Your vision is limited from the stifling helmet, but you can see an outcropping just beyond the dense trees. Illuminated by the setting sun, the sweat on your face glistens, mixed with dirt and grease and blood, an indescribable filth cakes your entire body. Before you give your mind a chance to consider the potential consequences, you leap into a sprint, running so hard your muscles begin to burn. Just a few more feet. You leap over a tree stump and duck your head as bullets rain from an unknown direction. You reach the earth once more with a thud, never slowing, never stopping. You spot a foxhole occupied by an unknown comrade. The weight of the world lightens a little. With a small dive, you eat a mouthful of safe, covered dirt, and peace of mind is achieved, at least for a while. You turn to your friend and sputter out a request to follow you. He doesn't move, staring at you with hesitant eyes. No. He won't go with you. The enemy is too great, he says. There's no point in resisting, he says. Your stomach drops to your feet. Not another one. And to think that you can't take him with you. No matter how hard you try, it has to be his choice. You tell him he's doomed to destruction, that he's on the losing side. You tell him not to give up hope, but to fight hard until the end, which will justify all the pain. He won't listen though. He's too distracted by what's around him. By the here and now. He's too blinded to see the reward that waits for him if he just

keeps

pressing

on.

I hope, as a Christian, you feel like this. No, it doesn't make me happy you feel like this. I don't feel happy you feel discouraged or pained. But you should. And if you do, you're on the right track. Truth be told, we're behind enemy lines. Satan has power. Let's face it. And we're on his turf. His battlefield. His pit of sin and lust and destruction. This is his big chocolate-covered bomb. His grand deception. His master plan. And I gotta hand it to him, finding pleasure in earthly things is easy nowadays.

But what if we didn't. What if we shoved his sinful offers right back in his ugly face. What if we rebelled against the customs of this world and ran. Ran until our muscles burned. Ran for the goal, grabbing as many of our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ as we could. What if, amidst the storm of bullets and arrows and pain, we pressed on, knowing that the end would justify it all. What if we put our faith in the unseen. In the truth. What if we ALL did that. What if we could somehow turn Satan's own field against him. What if we took this beautiful earth that our Lord created BACK.

Sounds like a remarkably effective battle strategy to me.

So let's do it.

Matthew 7

I can't tell you how many times I've read these words:

"Any why worry about a speck in your friend's eye when you have a log in your own? How can you think of saying, 'Let me help you get rid of that speck in your eye,' when you can't see past the log in your own eye?"
Matthew 7:3 & 4 (NLV)

When I read it today, I actually stopped to think about it for more than a few seconds (what a novel idear!!).

The woodwork in this analogy obviously represents sin. The log, being highly destructive, life-ruining sin, and the speck representing daily sin, stuff that we may think goes unnoticed.

Truth is, we all have some wood in our eye. Whether it be a redwood tree or a speck of sawdust, all sin and fall short of the glory of God. No one in this world is free from sin, every single person, no matter how perfect they strive to be, still sins.

So what's Jesus saying here? Well, the emphasis in this case is on what He's not saying.

Who can judge?

Who is perfect enough to judge the next guy on all his sins and faults?

No one. Not you, not me. Jesus.

Jesus is the only one who doesn't have that mess in his eyes. He's the only one who can see clearly enough beyond the smokescreen of this world to judge.

So the next time you judge, think to yourself, "Am I free from sin? Don't I have my fallacies and weaknesses as well?"

It's so great when you think about it. He's the perfect judge. He's the perfect mapmaker for our lives.

I'm glad we didn't leave that job up to a human.

Cards on the table

You know what I love? How miserable and uncomfortable I've been lately. How discouraged and worthless I've felt. I love it. Every second of it.

I'm not crazy, either.

This is what I picture. Satan's sitting at his little control desk, in a bad mood, like always. He's drinking his coffee, staring at a little radar screen. He zooms in on the US. He's always had considerable "productivity" there. Sexual sin is the biggest payoff. He chuckles as he thinks about all the people who strike it rich but will eventually lose it all. Suddenly, a little blip flashes on his radar. There are million all over the world, but when another one pops up it always strikes a nerve in him.

"Crap," he says. "Not another one."

He zooms in. He sees a young kid. Lanky and clumsy, yet passionate. The Enemy watches as the kid talks to someone about Jesus. He seems kinda serious. Maybe a little too serious.

"That's not good," Satan whispers to himself. "Might have to take care of that..."

That's me.

The Enemy is taking time to discover my weaknesses, like a lion getting ready to eat a gazelle, following it's pattern; exploiting its flaws. He knows every crevice of pain I hide. Every sin he can grow and water, like a morbid weed, and then expose it in hopes of destroying me. Sorry bud, but I kinda just foiled your "element of surprise".

I may never be cool. I may never be well-liked. I may never make another friend. I may never have a wife I can love and cherish. I may never have children. I may never get rich. I may never become a successful minister! I may die. I may never become all that I've dreamed of.

But I will always be a soldier of my Lord, Jesus Christ. I will always fight these spiritual battles. I will always stand for the most important thing in the universe.

But most of all, as long as I have breath in my lungs, I will be a threat to the Enemy. I will call upon the strength of the Father and I will not be destroyed.

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."

Dad talk

What is a father?

Can you give me a detailed definition? 'Cause I don't think you can.

Go ask a few people how they would define a dad. I'm guessing some of the answers would go along these lines:

• "Someone who loves and is caring for his child."
• "Someone who is stern and raises his children with dignitiy and honor."
• "A scum bag who doesn't even have the balls to stick around while his wife raises his child."
• "A well-intentioned workaholic who brings home the bacon, but doesn't show the love."

I predict no two answers would be exactly the same.

We're told numerous times that Jesus is our Heavenly Father. The term "Father" is so relative, and naturally, the idea of all of us being unified under one Father is terrifyingly foreign. You can bring in a Bible scholar to analyze the word's context and whatchamahoojit, but the bottom line will always be what was engrained into that scholar's mind; his or her own idea of a father. You following me? If my father is an abusive, alcoholic jerkwad, what am I supposed to think when people tell me Jesus is my heavenly father? If I never confide in my father, why would I confide in a Heavenly Father?

How are we to go about erasing our individual personas of fathers to fully grasp the magnitude of our Heavenly Father? Honestly, It's like forgetting how to ride a bike.

You tell me.

"Christian" vs. Follower of Christ

Hilarious.

The bottom line

"Life is frittered away by detail. Simplify, simplify, simplify..."
-Henry David Thoreau

I hate religion.

That's right, you read right, I hate it.

Religion is what tears churches in two.
Religion is what causes people to fight about how to pour water over someone's head.
Religion is what makes churches argue about how to pray in tongues.
Religion is what makes people say
"I'm gonna clean up my act and go to church, then I'll be saved."


"Then I'll be saved."

"Oh yeah and maybe I'll pray to Jesus or something. His name was Jesus, right? And he like... ah... um... OH YEAH he died on a cross for some reason. Gooot it. That's right. Well that sucks for him."

I have literally heard words similar to these come out of a classmate's mouth.



Religion is no good when Jesus is not in the sentence. I love Jesus. I worship Jesus. I don't worship religion. I don't pray to religion.

"Simplify, simplify, simplify."

When someone believes he can ensure his place in heaven by going to church and singing, I hate to say it, but score 1 for Satan.

God made us because He was lonely.
God wants us to worship Him.
God wants us to obey Him.
God wants us to love Him.

Religion didn't die so you could approach the Father. Our very human and finite minds have turned a beautiful thing the Lord intended for us and warped it to fit our moods. I love my church, and I'm not denying the presence of Jesus in our church family, but just imagine what would happen if every church in the world built their foundations on those four things.

I don't think God intended for His churches' main concerns to be whether or not to sing hymns or modern worship songs.

Religion = Bad
Jesus = Good

Just simplify.

Jesus notices the small stuff!

Wow. I think my week was pretty much just made a few minutes ago.

I'm a stresser. I get stressed. It's just what I do. Because I'm me, I waited 'til tonight to write a news story for the school paper. Oh, and it was due yesterday. Yeah, I wouldn't have it any other way.

So naturally, I get home and I'm stressed; beating myself up because I have hardly 10 quotes to make a 600-word story. I called a guy from the school board for an interview, and he hasn't called back, I'm on a time-crunch and I have an iffy main source.

Ughhhh why do I do this to myself.

So I'm sitting on my bed mulling over how much of an idiot I am for waiting this long, dreading going up to the cold computer room and facing the barren wasteland of an empty Word document.

A hear a still, small voice.
"Give it to Jesus!"
Mmm, this is not important enough, I doubt Jesus'll care.


Wait... WHAT?! I DOUBT JESUS WILL CARE?!!?

So I pray right then and there. I tell the Father the story is in His hands. I'll give my best, but Jesus is officially taking the reins.


So I'm struggling to piece this thing together, and I'm about ready to pull my hair out. Finally, I just lean back in my chair and close my eyes. I had to take a break.

Annnnnd my phone rings.

I pull it out, it says "Anonymous".

I answer it.

"Hi, this is Mr. Griffin, I'm calling back to speak with Matt Kenyon regarding an interview."


I honestly can't describe my heart then. In that moment, I felt as if I had just witnessed someone being raised from the dead... as if I had just single-handedly felt the love of Jesus Christ. Jesus recognized my stress, and he sent an answer.

It got me thinking. When we sing songs like I Surrender All, we give all the important things to Jesus. The sexual sin, the lying to our parents, the temper we so frequently lose. Do we ever think that when Jesus told us to surrender all, he meant the everyday, silly stuff, too? It may seem mundane or unimportant, but Jesus wants you to give it all up -- every last drop.