Wednesday, August 21, 2019

The soldier of peace within a life of war

If life feels like a war, then we have read it correctly. The battles of life are impossible to avoid. And yet, biblically at least, we know we don’t fight against an enemy made of flesh and blood. We struggle against the powers and principalities that are unseen, and yet the signs of war are all too visible in our own behaviour and in that of others.
If we desire peace, we desire a good thing. Any Miss Universe contestant worth her salt would decree that she wanted ‘world peace’. We all desire that which will make our lives more comfortable, apart from those who say, “Hang the rest, I wanna be the best!” And there are plenty of those in that quarter.
Amongst those of us who desire peace, we must ask ourselves, why? Why is peace so important? If we desire inner peace without seeking peace for the other person, we are no more friend of God than the narcissist.
Peace must transcend our own selfish desires. Peace must be a global ideal or it amounts to nothing.
We only truly desire peace when we desire peace for everyone. Anything other than that is a lie. And yet, we must start from somewhere.
If we acknowledge that we face spiritual warfare each and every waking moment, and perhaps the moments in between, too, we imagine that we are in contact with the enemy at all times, whether we recognise it or not.
The knowledge that we are in all-out-war is all important; out of this, as if it were a wellspring, comes the purpose of life itself (see Proverbs 4:23 for this principle).
What I mean, is this: the fact that we are in a war means we cannot be inactive to survive. We have a mission. There is a life force in us. And until that moment when we transcend this life and tiptoe over the cusp of this mortal reality into death, while we live and breathe, while we can cogitate, while we can feel, while we can discern and judge, and while we can act, we have an opportunity.
Now is our time, like the fact that beyond this time is beyond our time. Now, and only now. Now is all the time we have to love our loved ones. Now is the only time we have to behave in ways that are not regretful. Now is the time to say what we need to say, and now is the time we need to do the things we need to do. Now is also the time where we ought not to do the things, or say things, we ought not to do, or say. But now is not simply about ‘doing’; it’s more about being and our driving, prevailing philosophy.
Now is the time to please God, which speaks of peace that is sown for the reaping of righteousness. Nothing else matters than justice and righteousness and fairness all borne on the wings of truth. No other fear is relevant other than the fear of the Lord itself. Fear of fellow humans indicates we don’t ‘fear’ God enough.
When our backs are against the wall, and the enemy is raging, and we are sinking into that dark pit, and we’re forlorn for response, we simply must trust.
Back against the wall?
Trust, trust, then trust some more.
Nothing is more important amid the ferocity of battle than to look to the Commanding Officer for the moment’s order. Our CO is saying, “Hold the line!” There is always a rising. There is always back up coming. We are never alone in this war, even if it feels like we are.
You may live this life, believing you’re a hypocrite. I know I regularly do. But we need to remember that there is no perfection in war, and tactical blunders are inevitable, forgivable, and even necessary. There will be humiliation. There will be times when we fail miserably. There will be times when we fall far short of our potential.
The direct route to God is to look for and to the CO. We must keep speaking our messages of hope and courage and faithfulness, even when the Lord has shone the light of heaven’s divinity on our sin of despairing and cowardice and disobedience. Especially then, for it is in the revelation of our wrong, and in confessing it and dying to it, that we gain ascent to the resurrection of the Lord. And it is the revelation of our wrong and our acceptance of God’s rebuke that we prove our worthiness of trust. God trusts us never more than when we’re humble enough to face our wrong and make restitution for it.
See how ridiculously kind the grace of God is in thwarting the enemy we battle with? All we need to do is have the humility to be shown the error of our ways and God will use us powerfully for a glorious Kingdom good.
Now, those who battle for Kingdom purposes, knowing that the war is not against flesh and blood, always see past the person of war, so they see the purpose of war. They see first and foremost the war in their own heart—the devil divides us in our inner being before he sets foot in the battles between us.
In godly humility, we see the fallibility in ourselves. We struggle to see the speck in the other person’s eye, because we’re so focused on the plank that’s in ours. This is the battle of personal accountability before the Lord. This is the primary battle; that God would own our own heart. Only then can we accede to the will of the Lord in others’ lives in trustworthy ways of leadership. What a divine paradox. Only the sinner who repents is qualified to lead.
We cannot contend for peace if our hearts are at war with ourselves.
We must reconcile with God in response to God’s reconciliation with us. God has done all the work in Jesus and look at the enmity and strife we bring upon God when we continue wantonly, and very often unconsciously, in our sin.
A sin done in response to a sin done against us never glorifies God. It mistakes the enemy, and we never fight for peace when we war against even those who war against us. They too may forget that we are not their enemy.
Jesus said, “Love your enemies.”
What is so hard to understand about that?
Having fought for peace by the acknowledgement of our own sin, in passionately believing in and acting upon overtures of reconciliation with those we’re in conflict with, we win the right to fight this holy war in the only God-acceptable way.
Above all, for the soldier of Christ, in seeking peace, there is the requirement of courage. It takes guts. It involves risk. It requires heart.

Photo by Jason Blackeye on Unsplash

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