I’m wrestling with these words.
Or maybe I’m wrestling with God.
Either way, he’s put this verse, or a similar message, in my line of sight more than once recently. And you know what that means, right?
I’d better pay attention.
Here’s the thing, though. These words, they don’t make me happy. They don’t bring me comfort.
Because I feel like God’s dropped the ball. Fight for me? I’m not even sure He remembers who I am right now.
So I’m avoiding Him. Sure, I’m reading my Bible regularly like a good little Christian. And I’m going to church. And I’m praying for my food.
But mostly, I’m escaping into books. Reading about fictional troubles and how the characters overcome gives me a break from my own troubles–the ones I can’t fix.
Silly me, to think that reading a novel would exempt me from messages from God.
Because there it was again. This message–The Lord will fight for you–right in the middle of a really good novel.
How rude.
If it was only the first time I’d seen it, I might dismiss it. But it’s the second time this week. And the third in the last few months. Maybe more.
The message is being delivered, but I’m having trouble accepting it. The Lord is strumming a tune I don’t want to dance to.
I’ve been so confused recently about what we’re supposed to do with the situation we’re in. Sometimes I get the feeling we’re supposed to fix it. To take steps of faith. To move on what we feel is God’s leading even though nothing is clear about that process.
Other times, times like these, I get this message: Wait.
Oh, how I hate waiting.
But here I am. Waiting. And hoping the Lord means what He says. That He’s fighting for us. And that He’ll call us into the battle. To advance at His word and not retreat in fear.
Because those options are equally appealing right now.
Like the Israelites, to whom these words were spoken, I feel trapped between a fearful enemy and an uncrossable sea with no apparent way out.
But God made a way. He opened a path where there wasn’t one before.
This, too, is my hope.