Last night as I once again lost the fight to get a good night's sleep, I was listening to Pandora, playing Bingo, and doing anything but think. Or at least I tried to. Lately, there have been a lot of nights like this. Since coming back from vacation last week, though, my defenses are especially down because I have been battling--quite unsuccessfully--a severe cold.
So, as I was in my ABT Mode (that's Anything But Think, to the layperson), and a Journey song came on the playlist. It made me think of the latest series at NEXT at MGC and how earlier in the day Pastor Jeff had asked, via Facebook, for folks to list some of their favorite 80s groups. Ahh, the 80s. Big hair, the transition from high school to college to marriage to motherhood to...
The memories were sneaking in. "Open Arms" was playing softly, gently, reminding me of a time when I was with this guy...
"Stop right there! Stop those thoughts immediately," I said to myself. Why in the world do these things try to permeate my soul in the dark hours of the night?
Fairly quickly the answer came to me. I wasn't dressed. I didn't have my armor on. My defenses were down. Blame it on the fever ravaging my body, the thoughts earlier planted in my head, or just plain meanness of the devil. Whatever. As I lay in a relaxed state in my recliner, with the music playing and the computer wide open, there was no shield of protection on my body to have these fiery darts ping off of. My feet were not preparing themselves to further the gospel; they were propped up and tucked under my blankie. No helmet was on my head, for had it been, I daresay I wouldn't have been listening to Journey at a time when it was so easy for my fortress to be invaded.
Ahh, but the belt of truth and the sword of the Spirit? Somehow they were intact. Miracle of all miracles, some of my armor was on and I was able to use these tools to combat the wiles of the devil. Oh how good I felt! See, all day he had been planting those little seeds, strewing stumbling stones about in preparation for my defeat of the midnight hours. However, once again the Word of God is reiterated: when I am weak, He is strong. Hallelujah!
If you are like me, one of the first things you do when you get home is start undressing. First the shoes go off, then the jacket or whatever I feel is confining me. Then I tend to pile up in my recliner, reach for me sweet green tea, and plop the computer in my lap to catch up on the day's events. From this lesson last night, I have learned to not be so quick to discard my "wardrobe" and to be on guard, vigilant in what goes in and out of my head, and to constantly, constantly be on the lookout for those things that may trip me up. Lastly, I have once again rejoiced that my God is bigger than the devil and his tricks, that my God is for me, and that even when I cannot take as good of care of myself as needed, my Great Physician has the prescription of His Holy Word for me to apply to my hurts and balm my soul.
Dear Sweet God,
Thank You again for attending to me. You prove Yourself mighty when I falter in my diligence to remain constant. In the darkest hours of the night, You still shine, still remind me that I am not chained to my past any longer, that I don't have to revert back to old ways and old thoughts--that I don't have to relive old times and wonder about the "one that got away" or the times that were spent, in all honesty, living a life that was not well-pleasing to You. Yes, the 80s were a fun decade. But, they also remind me that I was not always being the child of God, the daughter of the King, that made You proud. Thank You for all the things You are bringing in my life to change me, to make me more like Jesus, and to stand firmly. Sometimes it's all I can do to stand, God, but You promised You'd stand with me, in front of me, and fight my battles for me. Thank You for this, Father. I don't want to wrestle with the images that often come to me, whether through song, pictures, or even just a simple remark. Let me thoughts be on You is my prayer and I pray it in Jesus' Name. Amen!
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