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Wielding the Sword of the Spirit

Finally, all of you, have unity of mind, sympathy, brotherly love, a tender heart, and a humble mind. 1 Peter 3:8

I recently saw something that unsettled my spirit deeply. Some people I love and respect shared a video disparaging several Bible teachers I have also come to respect.

Henry Blackaby was one of them, labeled a false teacher for his Bible study Experiencing God. That Bible study was the very tool God used to lead me to salvation in His beloved Son.

Grief is the only word that aptly describes my response. I literally wept. What tool of the enemy would draw me into intimate, authentic relationship with Jesus Christ?

I can say authentic with deep conviction, because that relationship unleashed the power of grace in my life. I was changed. God tendered my shackled heart and caused it to love in ways that it couldn’t before. His Spirit within me brought forth beautiful fruit.

And yet some would say that teaching didn’t come from God.

It’s amazing how people who profess the same Lord can view things so differently. Passionately clinging to our own interpretation of scripture, we stand on opposing sides, using the same Bible to hurl accusations at one another in a desperate attempt to prove we’re right.

I don’t believe that’s what God had in mind when He placed the sword of the Spirit in our hands. We’re not meant to turn it on one another. We’re meant to unite against the real enemy—God’s enemy—the one whose agenda remains division among the body of believers.

Scripture clearly defines our enemy in Ephesians 6:11-12.

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.

A scheming devil wages war against the church with his army of evil. 1 Peter 5:8 reveals how he likes to attack.

Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.

We’re in little danger when the pack unites. Together we’re too strong for him. The gates of hell cannot prevail against a healthy church (Matthew 16:18). He knows he must divide us to have any chance of claiming us for dinner.

Unfortunately, we can be quick to oblige, separating from our brothers and sisters over often petty differences. And sometimes we do more than keep our distance. Sometimes we become the teeth he uses to devour his prey.

You might be interested to read Proverbs 6:16.

There are six things that the Lord hates, seven that are an abomination to him.

Guess what appears seventh on the list.

. . . one who sows discord among brothers (verse 19).

When we use the sword of the Spirit to cut one another down in the name of defending truth, we become tools in the hand of the evil one to sow discord among brothers. And God couldn’t be clearer about how He feels about it: He hates it.

Dear one, if we continue to fight amongst ourselves, we only advance the kingdom of darkness. Take a few moments to carefully consider Paul’s plea to the church at Ephesus, a plea the Spirit of the Living God still breathes to each of us through the page.

I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call— one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all. Ephesians 4:1-6

Beautiful, isn’t it?

Perhaps it’s time to look past our differences and let Christ’s love unite us. After all, it is men, not God, who have divided the body of Christ into many.

The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Deuteronomy 6:4

Only the Spirit of God can bring about the unity described in God’s Word. Only God Himself can take men and women with different backgrounds, beliefs and teachers and bring them into agreement about the mysteries of truth.

The day is coming, dear one. Christ will unite His church in love, and the world will know that Jesus is everything He says He is (John 17:23). They will come from every denomination, every tribe and tongue, all whose hearts answer His call and humbly seek the truth.

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. Ephesians 6:14-15

Interesting. Apparently the gospel of peace may require us to move.

Redeeming Love

Jesus answered him, “What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand.” John 13:7 ESV

I need to be honest with you. The last few weeks have been hard. People I love are hurting. Amid the usual struggles of life’s joys and hardships, loss and heartache have descended in a torrent.

A friend and sister servant in ministry at my church received a call recently that shattered her world. Her beautiful 23-year-old daughter had gone to sleep the night before like she did every other night. Only this time, she never woke up—at least not here. She closed her eyes to the blackness of this earth and opened them to the splendor of heaven and the beautiful face of Jesus.

Unimaginably wonderful for her. Devastatingly sorrowful for those left to grieve her.

Two other families close to me have lost loved ones to the ravages of cancer. And I recently received word that the disease has come calling on one of my dear family members for a second time.

Our human nature begs the answer to a desperate question: Why? Why must the body of Christ endure such pain? How do we reconcile God’s love with so much suffering?

I don’t have an answer, dear one, at least not one that will satisfy. If I did not know my God so well, I might be tempted to question Him myself.

But I do know Him well. I know the tenderness of His love. I know His comfort in my own brokenness. I know He is faithful, and I know His Word remains true.

I also know He wastes nothing and intends to bring a good work from every pain.

I recently read this quote from Christian philosopher Dallas Willard:

“Winter comes, but nothing irredeemable can happen to you. Nothing beyond the redemption of God can happen to you.”

Do you believe in the power of a God who redeems?

Beloved, God didn’t choose for this world to become ravaged by the evils of sin. Man chose it. Adam, chasing after a desire whispered into his heart by the deceiver, chose to disobey God and step out from under the safe covering of His protection. And now this world still reaps the consequence of that choice.

You see, that’s the nature of sin, dear one. It grows. It becomes stronger. Eventually it ends in death.

…desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death. James 1:15

And now in this world so decayed and corrupted by sin, pain abounds. It leaves its mark on both guilty and innocent. But God never intended this pain for us; Satan did. Why? Because Satan hates what God loves, and God loves people.

Maybe we should take a moment to ponder the enormity of John 3:16.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.”

Love led God to give His Son so you and I could live. Really live. Sin and death were never His choice for us. He created us in life and chose to offer it again, poured out on a cross in love to redeem man’s mistake. Jesus suffered death Himself so He could rescue us from it. Unbelievable.

We have trouble grasping love that gives like that. We can’t wrap our mind around such utter selflessness. So we hesitate to trust it.

But you can trust it, dear one. God loves perfectly—even when we can’t see or understand what He’s doing at the time. And He will never allow a heartache that He can’t redeem and bring something beautiful from. Never.

My heart remains full of hope because I know that God isn’t working evil in this world. He’s redeeming it. We’re still dealing with the consequences of our choice, but He remains faithful.

“I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

Jesus has overcome what we cannot. Beloved, as long as we live on this corrupted earth, we will experience suffering. But in Christ we have glorious hope! Whether we experience His healing touch here or when we see Him face to face, we win. Hope abounds. Love overcomes. Life triumphs.

And for those of us left suffering in this broken world, Jesus offers the means to overcome. When we run to Him in our pain instead of from Him, He redeems it. He exchanges our ashes for beauty, our mourning for gladness, our despair for praise (Isaiah 61:3).

What the enemy intends for evil, God desires to rescue and redeem. Will you let Him, dear one?

A Mother’s Struggle to Trust

Not again.

Clutching my Bible and prayer journal, I retreated to my favorite chair, eager to spend some time with the Lord. Well, that’s what I told myself anyway. I really just wanted to feel better.

Here I am, Lord. I scratched the words on the page, searching for where to begin. Worship filtered through my headphones, the uplifting beat of the melody marking a stark contrast to my mood. My mind tuned to the lyrics, “All we need is You.”

Instantly, conviction pierced my heart with the unsettling knowledge that I didn’t agree—at least not that day. That day I needed more than Jesus. I needed Him to fix things.

Guilt compelled me to confess. I’m sorry, Lord. I want you to be enough, but this is too much . . .

A jagged scar from an old wound had just been torn open. The familiar longing for acceptance tugged at my heart, crying out for satisfaction. Rejection had found me again. But this time, it had come for my son.

That changes things. I can handle the battle when I’m at the heart of it. I’ve learned to trust God’s plans for me even when I can’t make sense of them. He’s proven Himself faithful over and over again.

But this felt altogether different. This wasn’t about me. This time my child’s heart had been shattered, and I desperately wanted to fix it. I can’t be expected to idly watch one of my precious ones suffer.

My heart rebelled at the injustice of it. Anger mingled with the pain, begging retaliation. This wasn’t fair. He deserved better.

God should do something.

Soon His gentle Spirit stirred within my heart, lifting the veil so I could see. Realization dawned, penetrating my grief with this undeniable truth: God knew. He understood rejection. He understood the pain of seeing His Son cast aside—of wanting the world to recognize His great value, yet seeing it deny Him.

“He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him.” John 1:11, ESV

In that moment, I knew His suffering. I felt His pain. How the Father must have wept when they rejected Jesus. How He still must weep as we repeatedly devalue His only begotten Son . . . the Son He loves . . . the Son He gave.

Hope flickered through my sorrow, God’s own understanding of my feelings encouraging me to press in close. I asked Him to speak to me, to help me trust Him with my own son’s fragile heart. I needed Him to help me believe what I knew His Word declared: that His plans for him are far greater than my own.

True to who He is, God answered. Once again, His Spirit stirred, reminding me of truth. God never allows suffering for its own sake. Suffering, according to Scripture, marks the path to glory.

“But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.” 1 Peter 4:13, NIV

Then I knew. God had glory to reveal in my son’s life.

This pain would pass, and God would somehow bring good through it. It wasn’t what I would choose for him, but the God who created Him and wrote his story knew what I couldn’t. For whatever reason, my son needed to walk through this. His despair would not be in vain. Through it God would reveal Himself.

I sat in the stillness, pen in hand, and listened, inviting the God who speaks to do so again. Soon His quiet whisper stirred within me, and I found my hand moving once more across the page.

He is mine, beloved, just as you are mine. I AM greater than his pain . . . than your pain. You will soon see.

A promise.

Tears fell in response, my heart hopeful. God always keeps His Word.

I thought of Abraham and how he must have felt as he placed his son, Isaac, upon that altar. I imagine he did it with trembling hands and a breaking heart. But place him there, he did. And Isaac received the blessing that came through his father’s promise.

God had spoken blessings over my son as well, and I had a choice to make. I could retreat into my anger and justify my sorrow. Or, I could trust God to keep His Word in my son’s life. I could fight to change things and try to manipulate his circumstances so I’d like the look of them better, or I could choose to believe the God who speaks and entrust my son to Him with open hands.

I decided I wouldn’t withhold him from the God who loves him even more than I do . . . and then it came. I experienced Jesus’ promise from John 14:27,

 “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.” ESV

The wonder of it always astounds me. I can’t explain the how of it. I simply revel in the miracle of it. But when I run toward Jesus in my confusion instead of from Him—and I listen—I find peace.

It happens the moment I resolve in my heart to believe.