Tag Archives: war

Under Attack

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“I have told you these things so that in Me you may have peace.  In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”  John 16:33

Satan is clever.  He is sly, and smooth, and cynical.  Satan is patient. He waits calm, and quiet, and still.  Satan is smart. He is crafty, and tricky, and subtle.  It’s almost been a full month since I have posted last.  Can you believe that?–a month. When I began this blog, I was posting every single day.  Heck, I was so eager to write and to share, I was writing 3 to 4 posts a day, and saving them so that they could slowly filter out.  I was on fire! Passionate, burning, uncontrollable.  Obsessed.

Have you been there? Riding strong on a spiritual high? Invincible in His grace.  Unashamed and impossible to silence? Thirsty for the Word and nourished by devotion.  Obsessed? God fills your thoughts, He fills your time, He fills your mind.  Every decision you make is decidedly executed with Christ in mind.  Every word spoken is delicately selected and the words pour from you with energy and passion and joy.  There is a light-heartedess in your spirit.  There is a curiosity and a desire and an eagerness to learn and to share.  You scoff at your old ways, baffled by how you could have ever been tempted by that which was earthly–how you could have ever been so naive.  Committed to living for Christ–committed to maintaining this sprinter’s pace and committed to being the absolute best example you can be for your friends, your family, your co-workers.  Committed to being different.

Then 6 months pass and you find yourself in an uncommon moment.  A moment of free time in your crazy schedule–a moment of quiet time that you typically would have filled up with another check off the “to-do” list.  But in that moment you take the offered breather and you think…life is still on course.  It is comfortable, steady, placid.  You flip through the elements of your “world”. Work…school…family…finances…schedules…vacations…boyfriends, girlfriends…sports……………faith. Hmm, faith. Well you went to church a few Sundays ago. You prayed a few times when your best friend’s mom was sick. You tossed a few coins in that homeless man’s cup.  You wrapped up all of your emails with a “God Bless!” Oh, and you posted a few Bible verses on facebook and Twitter.  You let your mind wander, you feel that guilt start to boil up, you list off mental excuses and exceptions. Then you rationalize that you will read your Bible more often. You’ll go to church this Sunday.  You’ll start praying every night again.

Have you been there? Be honest. Are you there right now?

I am.

I’m ashamed. Ashamed because I know Satan is smiling.  In a swift six months he has done it again.  He has slowly and steadily weaseled his way between myself and my King.  I know what you’re probably thinking–”Oh my gosh, she’s about to tell us that she cracked.  She had to have broken her ‘Kissless ‘Till Next Christmas vow. She didn’t make it! She…”  Take a deep breath. All is well. I am still going strong on the intimacy fast. In fact, stronger than strong! Yes, the first few months were tough, but we serve a fantastic King. And He lifted that temptation and pressure with ease. So no, I haven’t struggled with the intimacy element of the fast, but I have allowed Satan to sit down at the table and deal his hand of cards.

Just so you know, I’m choosing to share this next portion with you, because I want you to see just how human I am.  Ever since I began this journey, I’ve received so many messages and comments challenging my position. I think people, especially young people my age, have been so confused as to why I would ever start an intimacy fast.–For God? Are you crazy? You’re a senior in college. What are you trying to prove? Who do you think you’re better than? Oh man, you must just be the perfect Christian.  You’ve got that whole God thing figured out, huh? Guess you’re ‘Holier than Thou’. Bible-thumper. Jesus Freak. Blah…blah…blah…–You name it, I’ve heard it.  And while it breaks my heart that people are so apt to put up walls so quickly, I hope some people can come to understand that I’m just as human as everyone else.  My walk is filled with just as many ups and downs. My relationship with Christ is filled with just as much confusion, and inconsistency, and challenges.

Case in point: the place I’m at right this moment.  The other day an executive producer from Fox flew in to spend the day filming me so that they could show my story on an episode of “The Real Winning Edge”, a nationally-syndicated, Christian-based television program that runs on their network. Holy cow.  That is a big deal for a number of reasons: #1. It was overwhelmingly humbling that they wanted to tell my story.  I’m still so incredibly honored to have even been a part of their production. #2. A CHRISTIAN-BASED television program on a major network like FOX? That’s rare. So rare. And so special. #3. This was a project with a great deal of money invested into it, and it was all for the glory of God. All three of those things still boggle my mind.  And the reason I explain it all is so that you can appreciate how rare, how special, and how divine this whole production truly was. A once-in-a-lifetime type opportunity.  How could anyone be anything but overjoyed to be a part of something like that?

I wasn’t.  I woke up that morning irritable, cranky, hateful, and shrewd.  My precious mom had flown all the way in from Georgia to help me throughout the day, and from the moment I woke up I was nothing but short with her.  We had a production schedule that was so jam-packed there was hardly a moment to breath, and this was a day that needed to go off without a hitch.  I was bloated, I was stuffed-up, I was hot, my skin was breaking out in rashes, I was miserable.  Throughout that morning, I was able to put on a smile for the producer and crew, but anytime I got behind a closed door or alone with my mom, I turned into a monster.  Everything was going wrong, we were off-schedule from the start, and I was as cruel as cruel comes. I couldn’t wrap my head around why I felt so terrible. I couldn’t wrap my head around why I was so hostile and irritable, and filled with empty tears.  The best way I can describe it is to say that I felt like I was about to explode.  I was at a breaking point….

Right before lunch, my mom sat me down on an empty couch we found while we were waiting for the crew to gather their equipment.  Without saying much, she simply took my hands and began to pray.  My mom must have prayed over me for 4 or 5 minutes, but time seemed to pause.  As I heard her intently and diligently praying words of simple beauty and earnest request, I found myself in that “moment” I mentioned at the beginning of this post–a moment of stillness and peace that I hadn’t experienced in far too long. When had my passion softened? Where had my enthusiasm and spirit and energy been hidden? Was it beneath my heavy summer school load? Had I overshadowed my eager faith with the complications of my crazy schedule? When was it that I allowed my time to be filled in front of the TV at night, rather than in the Word?

I realized that Satan had been sneaky.  He had been slow and subtle and sly, as he usual tends to be.  As the months had passed since the beginning of the year, Satan had been patient.  He had slowly and purposefully distracted me, simple moments at a time, from growth in my faith.  It started with missing my quiet time in the Word, one night, because I was simply a little too tired.  Next, it was putting off posting on my blog, because I had a school assignment I had procrastinated on.  Then, missing church, too exhausted from workouts throughout the week to pass up sleeping in just one day.  Little things became often things. Often things became regular things. Regular things became forgotten things. And six months later I found myself weak enough to be vulnerable to attack.

Have we not all experienced it? Mountain-top spiritual moments, followed by gradual valleys in our faith.  Too busy, too tired, too tempted. I found myself weakened to a dangerous point on that special day, a day I typically would have rejoiced in, made the most of, and celebrated for Christ.  On that special day–a day dedicated to the glory of God–a day specifically devoted to sharing the gospel and sharing how our magnificent King has moved in my life–a day perfectly constructed to inspire and teach and love–Satan attacked.  I was overwhelmed by a spiritual warfare and under absolute attack. You see, Satan knows how to hit us the hardest.  He knows where we hurt the most.  For me, when he bullies me, he doesn’t aim to affect anything around me–he goes straight for my body.  He attacks my health first.  My body  has always manifested grief and stress physically.  I get sick, I get hives, I run fever. I battle nausea, my skin blisters, my stomach nots.  He loves to toy with my body, he always has.  And he knows how ill I truly become. Then, he attacks my emotions–capitalizing on my resting depression, capitalizing on my quick irritability and my trauma-proned anxiety. He wraps me up in my own head, distracts me with myself, and laughs as I weaken.

You see, that’s how Satan works.  He slides in, inch by inch, when we allow our lives to run us. He waits, patiently, gradually distracting us. He takes small opportunities, wins small battles in our spirits, and then when he deems fit, overwhelms us and wins us back.  He makes us feel like we’ve fallen too far. He makes us feel like if we go crawling back now, asking for forgiveness, God would surely judge us.  Others would surely judge us.  We’d slipped up yet again, surely we’re out of chances.

WRONG! So wrong. So fantastically wrong.  Don’t let yourself believe Satan’s lies.  Don’t let yourself get tangled up in guilt! As my mom prayed over me, I literally felt a cloak of anxiety, depression, fatigue, heat, weight…lift completely off of my back.  And where the nasty cloak lifted, a cool and reviving stream tickled up my spine.  An assuring, comforting, loving GRACE blanketed me in peace.  With the freedom from that cloak, a fresh page was turned.  I was breathed new life, literally relieved from attack.  Do you understand? God never tires of turning that fresh page for you.  Guilt, depression, anxiety, hatred…these are all things of Satan. These are all things that God yearns to relieve us from! Jesus Christ died on the cross for our souls so that God can turn a new page every single time we come to Him. The rest of that day I was alleviated from my angst. Rejuvenated, positive, and able to rejoice in the purpose of the moment.  My mom’s tiny hands and heart-felt prayers packed more punch than Satan could ever handle. How? Because she called on the Holy Spirit.  She prayed to a God that makes Satan look like a chump.  She prayed to a God who assures us that no task is too big or too small for Him to overcome.  She prayed to a God who yearns to hear our prayers and to work through us.  Through those simple, sweet hands, she silenced Satan and freed me from an attack that had been in the works for months.

You guys, I stumble. I stumble and fall and stumble again.  I let Satan get in the way. I let my schedule get in the way. I’m dismissive to conviction and I ignore God, daily. But, you guys, life is a marathon, not a sprint. Runners in marathons need fuel–FUEL YOUR HEARTS WITH SERVICE FOR OTHERS. Runners need water–HYDRATE YOUR SPIRIT WITH CONSTANT PRAYER.  Runners need rest–REST IN THE WORD OF GOD! Serve. Pray. Read. I often have to remind myself, that I am literally filled with the Holy Spirit. Jesus Christ is literally living in me. What’s impossible? Nothing.  What can’t be overcome? Nothing. Satan is good at waging war. He will be patient and take small battles. The only thing preventing us from freeing ourselves from his grip is OURSELVES. Set aside time, set aside pride, set aside self.

Be revitalized! God is ready to turn your page and reignite your passion, too.

Be still. Know that He is God. Know that HE has overcome the world…

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”  2 Corinthians 12:9

“Fight the good fight of faith…” 1 Timothy 6:12

My Story (part 14)

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“The Lord dealt with me according to my righteousness; according to the cleanness of my hands, He rewarded me…” Psalms 18:20

It would be foolish to believe that the moment any one of us accepts Jesus Christ into our hearts, that Satan steps back, counts his losses, and moves on to torment another.  That is far from the truth.  You see, as I said before, Satan is bitter. Resentful. And keen.  Individuals in pursuit of a closer relationship with Christ are not exempt from hardship or suffering or misfortune–in fact, they are often targeted. Tested. Tempted. Satan continues to wage war and continues to tease.  The difference? This time, those who have accepted Christ into their hearts enter battle with a new army surrounding.  An army so extensive in number, that the ranks flood the battlefield like a sea of unyielding power. With the strength of a King on their side and the love of a gentle Father picking them up when they are knocked down.  With the confidence of a warrior fighting for the purpose of good–fighting for the purpose of grace–fighting for the purpose of salvation. I don’t know about you, but I would much rather give control to the King of all Kings and fight for His cause. I would enter battle any day of the week knowing I am surrounded by that kind of strength.

Recovery from my accident was not quick, nor easy.  Physically, my body took a great deal of time to heal.  I had to take “incompletes” in my courses and remain home in Georgia, bound to a bed, for close to two months.  In that time, there was a great deal of physical pain. Complications to my condition put me back in and out of the hospital, and the mending of my broken bones was often nauseating and  debilitating.  Most severely, the bruising to my brain left me unable to put together complete sentences. Unable to articulate my thoughts and feelings into the proper words. Unable to speak without the handicap of a stutter.

However, the physical pain and the repercussions of my injuries were futile and petty.  For my heart was strong–surrounded by an impenetrable armor and overflowing with strength and grace.  I was like a young school girl enamored by a new love. I was captivated by my God and hungry to grow in my faith.  Hungry to grow in the Word. Hungry to learn more, do more, and feel more.  Hungry to be His priestess and share of His light and His power.

Returning to school for Spring of 2010, I was mending, but still  physically handicapped.  I entered into extensive physical and neurological rehabilitation.  Though I was suffering from sever post-concussive syndrome and still walking around in a fog, I was able to complete my finals from the previous semester and stay on track with my courses in the new year.  After close to 6 months of recovery and 6 months of walking hand-in-hand with my King, I was finally cleared by the neurologist and back in functioning form.  I had been purged of my stutter and only felt remnants of the after-effects from my injuries.  (Still to this day I have some short-term memory issues, but I know I will be healed of that, too, in time).  I had worked, relentlessly, with the strength of my King, to get my body back into playing form and to build myself, as an athlete, back up from my broken state.

I find it enthralling to sit back and see the works of our God. We serve a God with an unbelievable sense of timing. And an unbelievable sense of humor.  A day doesn’t pass where I don’t laugh at His splendor. He shows himself in the most terrific manners.  It was not even a week after I was finally cleared by my neurologist that my phone rang.  Confused by the unidentified number, I hesitantly answered and sat on the phone, in a state of shock, for close to 10 minutes.  When the individual on the other line hung up, I dropped my phone, leaned back in the chair in the middle of Middleton Library, threw my hands up towards the heavens and simply laughed.  Laughed and felt His grace fall like rain.  The individual on the other line was a representative from the U.S. Women’s National Soccer Team. I had just been invited to compete with the U-23 U.S. Women’s National Team in Portland for a week. What a fantastic sense of timing our Lord has… :)

(to be continued)

My Story (part 10)

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“A righteous person may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all” Psalms 34:19

No wound heals quickly. No gash is mended by freshly born skin as swiftly as we all would like.  Every scrape, cut, and burn scabs.  And many times, we find ourselves frustrated when, in our anxious movement after the pain has subsided, we tear those scabs wide open again. In our haste, we are again exposed to the slicing pain we first felt. But given time, and care and patience, those wounds scab again and eventually scar.  Allowing us to be sewn like new, but always leaving behind a mark of our misfortune.  A reminder of the pain we endured. A reminder of the lessons we learned.

Taking a stand against the spiritual warfare that was ripping me apart, I found myself scabbed.  I was tender and uncomfortable and often very vulnerable, but I was beginning to heal.  In the time that I was regaining strength, I was often too anxious. Often naive. I often mistook minor progress for complete redemption and, in turn, fell back into temptation and tore open those scabs, yet again. Re-exposing myself to the pain that had overwhelmed me before. Re-exposing myself to the fear. I was slowly rebuilding my strength, but Satan was not going to let me go without a fight…

If there is one thing I have learned through my athletics and my adversities, it is that this society tells us that everything must be immediate–everything must be done at speed. Fast communication. Fast food. Fast schedules. Fast progress. Fast relationships. Speed, speed, speed. What our world takes for granted is that things of true value, things of importance, take time. There are no shortcuts or quick-fixes. No miracle drugs or instant solutions.  Things of purpose are developed and strengthened gradually. (But again, that is another topic for another blog post for another day.)

As I was slowly gaining strength, Satan was quickly gaining fury.  As I began to deny him, he began to grow angry. I was not walking, yet, arm-in-arm again with my King, but I was trying to crawl from my captor. Trying to steal away in the night when Satan wouldn’t notice or see me leave. But he is keen, he is sharp–he is resentful. And he did notice. He was going to try anything to keep me captive. Anything to handicap my progress. Anything to keep me in his sinful snare.

I find it funny, at times, to sit back and look at the works of our God. To sit back and watch, how desperately, Satan tries to wage an un-winnable war. To sit back and watch the grace that God shows to those who seek Him. It’s amusing, truly. Amusing to watch the futile attempts the Devil makes. Painful, but amusing.

It was November 24th that Satan made his boldest effort to stop my progress, once and for all. Nearing the one-year anniversary of my Dad’s death, I was making headway. I was beginning to heal and beginning to seek my King’s face once again.  God was forgiving. Overjoyed. Like a mother welcoming home her son from the war, my God was genuinely delighted–welcoming me back with open arms.

It had been a long day in Baton Rouge. The semester was winding down and preparations for our finals exams were underway.  The soccer season had just come to a close and it was time to take a brief break for Thanksgiving. A break I so desperately needed. An opportunity to see my beautiful mom. An opportunity to wrap my arms around my loving sister. Two women that had worked so hard and so relentlessly throughout the year to pick up the pieces of my dad’s mess. To reorganize our lives and save our family from destruction. (I could write a book about the bravery and work ethic of my mom and my sister in the months following my dad’s disappearance, but that book would be colossal in size, and it is a story still being written…)

My day had been filled with distraction after distraction…task after task that arose and further hampered by departure home.  I was going to drive back to Georgia. An 8 hour drive. A drive I had made so many times before. And I was anxious. Eager…eager to leave that day. Eager to leave that moment.

By the time I finally finished everything I had to do and hit the road, it was nearing 5 p.m. When I pulled onto the interstate, one thing became very apparent–I was not the only one eager to head home that day. In fact, the entire population of Baton Rouge seemed to have their cars parked on the freeway.

After two hours, I had moved roughly 2 miles.  The traffic finally broke free and cars poured from the deadlock like salmon excitedly swimming up-stream. So I drove. And drove. And drove. I watched the hours click by on my car stereo clock and I felt fatigue setting in. Finally, I stopped for gas and saw a sign that indicated I was 100 miles from Atlanta. So close! Finally. I was rejuvenated in spirit and ramped back onto the interstate for the final leg of my journey. Little did I know, Satan had other plans. It was about to become a VERY long night…

(to be continued)