The Art of Swordfighting
If the troubles of this world were mere nuisance, You would have armed us with knee pads and fly swatters. Clothed us in bubble wrap.
But this life is hard, and the enemy darts are indeed fiery. And so you have gone all the way to the cross to procure the heavy-duty armor we really need.
That Jesus did for me what I could not do for myself, and that by His wounds I am healed. This is the salvation helmet that guards my mind, lifts my head, and puts joy in my eyes.
That God himself is my mentor and is daily adding to my reflection of His character. This is the breastplate that guards my heart. My breath. My hunger.
That faith is not a wimpy stick I shake at Satan’s lies. No! It is a full-body shield that deflects untruth.
Because the truth. Oh, YES, the truth — that God is who he says He is, and I am who He says I am. This is the sword that slices away all that clouds my judgment, confuses my mind, and attacks my Spirit.
The sword is sharp. Accurate. Deadly.
Too often I let it hang by my side. The truth laying limp. All power at my disposal. And still I practice my dart-dodging.
Instead, Lord, teach me the art of swordfighting.
(Reflections on Ephesians 6:10-18)