Arm Yourselves

Each day, I must put on the full armor of God. Each day, I must face the reality that Satan and his forces are after me in an intense way. I used to shrug off the possibility that Satan was indeed present in the world and that, if he was, he even messed with people like me. I mean, it's like a poorly-made horror film involving some old "secret Catholic dogma" that proves to be the only way to save some possessed teenage girl.

Except...it's not just a bad movie. It's the truth. The Bible warns us, over and over, that in spite of Christ's victory over death and over Satan, Satan will not simply let us go. In fact, he is constantly after us. He jabs at us, and then he hits us when we're down.

And, as I've lately realized, he isn't the big bully on the block. He's the little sneaky kid that pretends to be your friend and then spends all of his time whispering in your ear about your faults and weaknesses. He is the Deceiver. He is a liar, and a thief of joy. He will never stop, not until the final battle. I've been reading John Eldredge's Waking the Dead, and one chapter, aptly titled "Arm Yourselves," begins with a quote from Leif Enger that could not describe the situation more perfectly:

"We and the world, my children, will always be at war.
Retreat is impossible.
Arm yourselves."

I don't believe in coincidences, and, therefore, I don't believe that it was coincidental that I picked up this book as I finished Prince Caspian. We are at war. Always. We must arm ourselves.

Lately, as I've battled with severe bouts of anxiety and depression, I have realized the full extent to which this is true. I feel that Satan is constantly knocking me around, and, as my pastor said last weekend, I'm simply throwing one last punch at him as I go down. I know that Jesus envelops me, surrounds me, lives within me, and loves me as a pure child of God, yet my battle with the Enemy continues. Each day, it continues. Each minute, it continues.

Each second, I am fighting.

I am very tired. I am trying to remember that I don't have to fight this by myself, that Jesus is fighting on my behalf. That Michael, the Archangel, is defending me in battle. That the whole of the heavenly host is at constant war in praise of the Creator that was and is and is to come.

There's something glorious about knowing that I am fighting for my freedom, my peace, and my life. I do not enjoy it; don't get me wrong. It is terrifying and exhausting, and most days, I have trouble getting out of bed. But I know how this story ends. "I love to tell the story" because it is incredible, and beautiful.

"So tell me," sing BarlowGirl, "what is our ending? Will it be beautiful? So beautiful?"

Yes, it will. Until then, arm yourselves.