Where do I get my magic sword?

A battle of epic proportions is raging around us.  A life or death struggle.  People have left their families behind, have suffered privation as they dedicate themselves to the fight. Every day people are paying the ultimate price in the struggle for victory against an ancient foe, laying down their very lives.  We listen for the orders from our commanders to plug this hole in the line, free those prisoners, or to take that distant hill.  We throw ourselves into the fight.  Some are the commandos dropped in behind enemy lines.  Some are the infantry slogging it out in the trenches.  Some are the stretcher bearers and healers.  Some provide air support or strategic planning.  But, all of us have a role in the battle.

My role these days is mostly air support or, more clearly, prayer support.  I believe that God has called me to devote myself to intercession.  It is difficult for me to watch the battle raging and to see the enemy taking shots at our people.  I once was down in the trenches and I miss the gritty day to day fighting.  These days I fight differently, in the quietness of my secret place of prayer.  Even so, I am filled with emotions: anger, distress, sadness, and rage as I see the enemy of our souls fighting against my compatriots.  I see his lies.  I see the way he tricks us into friendly fire, or ambushes us with the sins that so easily entangle.  I wish that I could grab him by the throat and throttle him.  I find the intangible nature of this warfare terribly frustrating.

In the stories, when a huge and nefarious beast appears on the battlefield, the hero reaches for his magic sword, strides forward into battle and slays the hell spawned creature.  I desperately wish that the spiritual battle was that easily won.  I want my magic sword.  I want to destroy the schemes of the enemy, to free the prisoners, to heal the sick, to raise the dead.  I want to see the banner of the Lord lifted high over the battlefield and to hear the righteous battle throng sing the victory hymn to Our Father, Our King.  Paul says that we do not fight as the world fights, but that we have been given divine weapons that demolish strongholds.  The problem is that I don't know how to wield these divine weapons.  I believe that I am learning, but oh how I want to learn more quickly and to wield the weapons more effectively!  I need the King, the Captain of the Host to train my hands for battle!

What to do

I find myself wondering what to do.  I have been burdened, terribly burdened lately.  Most of the burdens I have been bearing are not my own, but those of people that I love.  As a minister, I am involved in the lives of people, and most people, myself included, are broken.  Most of us are not tremendously broken, we manage to go on day to day just fine, we're just a little cracked.  But a few situations lately have led me into the valley of suffering with some friends.  They have been mourning and I have been mourning with them.  I also have tremendous opportunities to rejoice with those who rejoice, but recently there has been more mourning.

But lately I have been bearing another burden, a burden with not one name but with many names.  A burden about organizational sin rather than individual sin.  I have seen a creeping evil, an insidious foe arise.  It looks good, it feels familiar, and yet it is wrong.  I struggle how to name the it...institutionalism, deception, selfish ambition, quenching the spirit?  I'm not sure exactly how to name it, but it is clear as day when you see it.   It is like eating horse meat.  It looks pretty similar to beef.  I can't really describe the difference between beef and horse, but you know the difference when it's in front of you.  It is so similar, but it looks a little different, it smells a little different, it tastes a little different.

So here is my dillema...what do I do about what I see.  I have asked God to do something about it.  I asked Him to have others speak up.  They have...but it continues.  I asked Him to expose it, to let others see it.  They have...but it continues.  I asked Him to put a stop to it.  He did not...and so it continues.  Now I am wondering what I am supposed to do.  I know I am supposed to pray, and I am doing that.  I am wondering if I am to do something else, something more active.  Is there not a time to stand up and do something?  Is this such a time for me?  Would it matter if I did?  It's not that I have much to lose, but I don't see much point in investing myself in this fight if it won't do any good.  It is so draining to invest so much energy in intercession, only to see the cogs of soul numbing, God diminishing, machinery continue to chug along.  But how does the machine get stopped if no one stops it?  Is this my fight?

The more I pray about this, the more I feel like my role is more Moses than Joshua.  When the Israelites fought the Amalekites Joshua went into the valley while Moses went up on a hill overlooking the valley.  While Joshua unsheathed his sword and went into battle, Moses stood on the hill interceding for the armies of the Lord.  As much as I want to be down in the valley in the thick of the fight I feel like His call for me is stay up on the hill with my arms lifted in prayer.  So, here I stand, even as my arms grow tired. 

Emotions and prayer

In the last few months I have felt particularly burdened.  I am involved in the lives several people, and it seems that recently there has a been a lot of crisis lately.  I have found myself really heavy as I pray for my friends and for the situations.  At times, more often than I would like to admit, I have been moved to tears.  Not just the gentle tears rolling down my cheeks, but real weeping, wracked with sobs.  This is definitely not normal for me.

At first I was concerned, but as I have processed this and talked with good friends, I am beginning to wonder if I am not moving toward the heart of intercession.  My wife read me a quote that said something like, "real prayer starts when words stop."  In Romans 8, Paul tells us, "We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express."  I am not sure that my weeping is exactly that, but I am starting to think that it is related.  I wonder if God is letting me feel a little of His heart for those I am praying for, or letting me bear some of their burdens.

There is a troubling aspect to this, because it seems to go against the peaceful feeling that prayer is "supposed" to produce.  I have often been encouraged to tone down my emotions, my passion.  I have been encouraged to be more like the meek and mild Christ, but now I am starting to reevaluate and to rediscover the emotional range available to us in scripture.  And let me tell you, when you start to read scripture with an eye for the emotions, there is a lot in there. 

The circles I run in seem to be concerned about your mental stability if you cry in church, or if you express anything beyond mild frustration at any time.  I wonder what they would make of Moses, Samuel, Elijah, David, Jeremiah, Hosea, or Paul, not to mention Jesus.  Jesus was sad.  Jesus wept.  Jesus was angry.   Jesus was so mad that he resorted to violence in the temple.  Yes, Jesus was also peaceful, joyful, and meek, but he experienced and expressed the whole range of emotions.  These were men following hard after God who also expressed a lot of emotion. 

I spent a lot of time praying through the Psalms today and I was amazed at the whole range of emotions contained and expressed as prayer.  It was wonderful to be able to pray the emotionally charged words of scripture back to God.  I just prayed my heart out today.  I am no longer going to try to censor my prayers to make sure that they fit into my, or anyone elses, preconceived notions of propriety.  Today I prayed with reckless abandon.  Interestingly enough, there was plenty of burden but no tears today.  Go figure.