Hello dear readers,
I found myself measuring my kitchen floor dimensions at 3 AM last night, because I had a sudden, shall we say, moment, about moving. That moment may or may not have involved looking up a lot of floor plans, doing some slightly hazy math, and then lying wide awake playing hypothetical furniture Tetris in my head. It did not change anything, but I woke up feeling a little hungover. Wild grasping for control will do that to you I guess?
Really it is all going to be fine, but things feel kind of like this:
Today’s newsletter started out as a collection of things to share with you, and ended up somewhere totally different. Seems par for the course right now.
One thing that’s become very apparent over the last few months, is that the enemy1 really hates growth, transparency, repentance, marriage and families. People can get a little funny when you talk about spiritual warfare2, but I think many of us have a tendency to not take it as seriously as we should. I remember reading Frank Peretti growing up, and while in some ways I appreciate his conceptualization of just how real this battle is, I’m not sure we can assume that we’re all living in Piercing the Darkness. However, I think it’s equally dangerous to be sleepy, complacent, or ignorant when we’re facing obvious resistance. I have this working theory, that if there is no other way to get you, the devil just wears you down physically. It’s not like I’m saying that every single sniffle your family deals with is a spiritual attack, but if I had a nickel for every time my kids slept poorly on a Saturday night, making it hard to get to church, or the times that I got into an argument or dealt with something exhausting right before trying to write this newsletter, or that everyone’s sleep became plagued by terrible dreams during a time of growth, or that we were sick for week on end (or that my daughter literally woke up from a nap with a fever as I was attempting to draft this?!)… etc… Well, inflation being what it is, I’m not sure I’d be rich, but I’d have some cash.
I’ve found that the saving grace in these situations, is when it becomes so ridiculous that it’s blatantly obvious (for example, a few months ago when every single one of our children was having bad dreams for weeks on end, and they’re generally good sleepers) At which point, as Christians we have the authority to say, “Hell, no”. The devil doesn’t get to use us as his playground.
As I was thinking about this post, I started laughing a bit, because this is the song that came to mind, “We’re not gonna take it, we’re not gonna take it…”I’m sure the theology is suspect if you pick it apart, but you get the point.
That’s how I feel right now. I am not about to sit down and take it. I’ve seen my boys suit up for their backyard battles, and I think they’ve got the right idea. I can be prone to wallowing in my misery, and feeling sorry for myself, but lately I’ve had this growing conviction that I do not want to give up even one inch. You can’t have my kids, you can’t have my marriage, you can’t have me, and I’m not giving up. Now, in practice this looks a lot like Peter jumping into the Sea of Galilee. I’m either walking on water or I am floundering and gasping for breath, feeling like I might die — there’s no in between.
The good news in all of this is that we’re not the only ones doing the fighting. You’re probably familiar with the passage in Ephesians 63 (emphasis mine):
Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end, keep alert with all perseverance.
Our pastor recently pointed out that most of the action in this passage is defensive warfare. We can defend and extinguish the enemy’s attacks, but it’s God who vanquishes him.
If all the Old Testament stories of Israel’s warfare teach us anything, it’s that God delights in allowing us to see him work. He will strip away every pretense that we’re doing it on our own, even going so far as to make our “battle plan” laughable. Our job is deceptively simple, but not easy. “And having done all, to stand firm” — that’s the whole goal. But this standing still involves wrestling, intentionally clothing ourselves, praying at all times, staying alert, and persevering. I can’t win the battle on my own, but it doesn’t mean I’m standing by helpless.
I’ll be the first to admit that this standing firm can feel like a slog. When all we’re running into is our own failures, and we’re not seeing change, the whole thing can feel pointless. In these moments it’s good to remember wise words from a man who more than most others, pinpoints the nature of the battle we are fighting.
C.S. Lewis writes about these “trough periods” in Screwtape Letters,
He leaves the creature to stand up on its own legs — to carry out from the will alone duties which have lost all relish. It is during such trough periods, much more than the peak periods, that it is growing into the sort of creature He wants it to be… we can drag our patients along by continual temptation, because we design them only for the table, and the more their will is interfered with the better. He cannot “tempt” to virtue as we do to vice. He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if only the will to walk is really there he is pleased even with their stumbles… Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy’s will, looks round a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys.” (p. 40)
We’re far from the first to falter in the trough. The Israelites questioned Moses, longing for their safe slavery, and I think of them every time I’m moving into something unknown and scary, grasping for the old safety. We long for the familiar, even when it’s not good for us. But, like Moses tells the Israelites, unless we stay in this discomfort we won’t get to see God working on our behalf. As awful as it may feel, the instructions are clear:
“Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will work for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again. The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.” (Exodus 14:13-14)
My husband has been reading Lord of the Rings to the boys, and so Tolkien has been on my mind quite often4. I wonder if we need to capture more of the spirit of an epic adventure in our spiritual lives. Like the Fellowship, we fight battles not to exert dominion, but to defend what is good, to hold our ground, and to stave off the forces of evil. One of my favorite scenes of the whole series is the end of the battle of Helms Deep. Theoden, roused from Wormtongue’s spell and returned to his rightful place as king, has fled to Helms Deep and despite the hope that it would be impermeable, the fortress is breached and hope is hanging by a thread. But instead of giving up, they decide to ride out to meet the enemy. This heroic charge rouses something in us, and as Tolkien does so well, the eucatastrophe — the happy turn— comes. Gandalf crests the hill with the dawn, a rescue after all hope was lost. In the movie version we see light literally scattering the darkness as the Rohirrim charge down the hill. We don’t seem to understand that this is the way God likes to work. Twists and turns we couldn’t see coming, but promises kept and his people delivered. It’s the wall of Jericho tumbling down, the minuscule army of Gideon, the unlikely hero, David, with his sling. It’s the resurrection— the greatest fairy story ever told.
And the real miracle in all of this? We are invited to participate. We get to live out this epic, heartbreaking adventure we call life. So step up to the adventure, begin the quest, and armor up — you’re going to need it.
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Lately:
Listening: I just discovered the podcast, “Raising Boys and Girls” and have been going back through and listening to everything that looks interesting. I’ve particularly enjoyed the “Ages and Stages” series — so helpful! This interview with David Gurian about the brain differences between boys and girls was also excellent. Most of the stuff about little boys makes sense to me from an experiential standpoint, but it’s helpful to know some of the brain science. For example, if you ask a boy, “What were you thinking??” the answer really and truly is, “they weren’t”. And I’m in it for the first time with this sweet little girl, who is already so much her own person, so while they’re all different, I’ll still take resources!
Reading: My reading has slowed down. I’m just having a hard time focusing on anything right now. I’m making my way through Atomic Habits by James Clear, and it’s good food for thought, especially since we’re about to set up a new living space. I am very disappointed that two books I really want to read, The Big Fat Surprise by
and Raising Emotionally Strong Boys by David Thomas are only available via audiobook on Libby. I don’t know why I have such a hard time with audiobooks! I can do podcasts, but I just drift off in the middle of the audiobook and end missing huge swathes of the book. Any tips?Around the Internet: This interview with the author of the book, Hannah’s Children: The Women Quietly Defying the Birth Dearth, really made me want to read the book. And this article, “Make the Internet Modest Again,” was a great read as well.
Laughing: This evening the three year old raced through the back door, and screamed triumphantly. I almost dropped the knife I was using when I saw his face. One eye looked like Patch from 101 Dalmatians, perfectly circled with dirt, his blond hair was standing on end and his blue eyes snapped impishly. His feet were completely black with dirt and he was SO happy. I just couldn’t stop laughing — it was like a live cartoon character in my kitchen. I guess the boys have been using the (empty) raised beds to practice their jumping skills, and I suspect he was pretending to be an animal and crawling around in them, based on the amount of dirt he accumulated.
also
3 year old: Wanna know what (sister) and I are playing? I her saber toof tiger, and she the dad!
Working: I’m still chipping away at Part 2 of a series on stress and hormones over
. If you missed Part 1, you can read it here. These have been a lot more time and research intensive than I thought they would be, but I hope they’ll be helpful!Satan, the devil, the Accuser, whatever you want to call him
I think a lot of this depends on church tradition, and your experiences being taught, or not taught about it.
I always hear the Slugs and Bugs version in my head now…
My kids are OBSESSED. So even if I didn’t want to think about LOTR there is no other option in this house right now
I agree with what you said regarding spiritual warfare and having to remain strong in the face of it ❤️
This is so timely- thank you! I'm teaching at a ladies retreat tonight and of course today we lost power for the afternoon because a tree fell across the road, homeschool struggles abounded, AND I got stung by a bee that was in the fingertip of my work glove that I was putting on to go help remove the tree (see above).
I finished rereading the Hobbit lately and I was struck by the comment that Bilbo's greatest heroic act wasn't fighting the dragon, but simply going forward in the dark. "He fought the real battle in the tunnel alone, before he ever saw the vast danger that lay in wait." Oh, to have the courage to keep walking in the dark!