One night last week at Jr. High camp, I lay awake
praying. And praying. Opposition from the girls was fierce—their disinterest
in chapel services, constant arguing, conflict, and resistance to
instructions. On that particular night a
fourth girl in our cabin made a profession of faith. When we got back to the room after
post-chapel counseling, the others were stewing and steaming. Someone bumped a mirror and it shattered on
the cement floor. My bedside light was
unplugged. Plugging it in resulted in a hiss,
pop, and show of sparks. We lost
power. Girls screamed and jumped at each
other, calling out names from horror movies.
I slept after power was restored and having read from Psalms,
but awoke at 2:30a.m., restless. At some point I found myself musing over the
armor of God (Ephesians 6:10-18) and was thankful for the many sermons and
illustrations over the years.
My first thought was for my head and mind. I had a very real need for the helmet of
salvation. Not only would it protect my
ability to think and function, it was a very real barrier between life and
death. I was comforted by its weight and
fit. It did not shift. It would not impair my vision or ability to
fight.
I remembered the belt of truth. Gathering the uncertainties and self-doubt rumbling
in my mind, I quoted Scripture. Taking
hold of untruth and pulling reality into folds, I rearranged and tucked it in
where it belonged so deceit would no longer hinder my freedom to act in faith.
Next, the breastplate of righteousness. Not mine, Christ’s. As sin and guilt surfaced, I confessed my sin
and asked God for the gift of repentance.
My vital spiritual organs are vulnerable—my emotions, my memories, my inner
workings—but in Christ they are covered , beyond the reach of the adversary. Christ Himself stands between my guilt, my
sin, my shame and the accusations of the evil one.
Oh, the gospel of peace.
I desperately needed and asked for this.
In my fight against rulers, powers, world forces of darkness and
spiritual forces of wickedness, I recognized my weakness to strike out at
people and circumstances. I needed spiritual
feet that could stand, settled and confident, fully resting in God’s ability to
wage war while I stood rooted in peace and serenity toward those around me.
Even as I prayed, the shield of faith was moving, darting, blocking
distracting thoughts, thwarting excuses, justification for my own sinful
choices, and random musings. How
necessary to know, to believe, to take hold of, God. He was.
He is. He will be. And He provides the faith necessary to
extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one.
With the sword of the Spirit, the Word of God, in hand, I
prayed. For those who had trusted in
Christ, for those who hadn’t, for my weakness and tendency to sin, for those
around me, for the speakers, for my family at home. It was a couple of hours before I had peace
and rested into morning. And now, on
this side of that specific battle, I have a greater understanding of the armor
of God. How necessary each piece is and
how God has armed us to stand firm. And
having done all, to stand.
