1/20/18
Toeing the line, that’s what we’ve been doing all month. It’s a very distinct line, marked by a rugged fence compromised of wooden poles strung with barbed wire. It’s not much to look at physically, but that fence marks the difference between light and dark.
Christ has won the war, but there are still battles to be fought, and this one has been going on all month.
And the battle has not been against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Though this battle is not a physical one, it has manifested physically because it is taking place in the hearts of each person residing here in Ethiopia. Our visits to the marketplace have been less than heart-warming, even to the point where we get slapped by the people who follow us or have rocks thrown at us from those who stand far off. We can’t leave the compound because we don’t know if we’ll have to run from those with sticks, or from people who throw stones.
On that side of the fence is the devil’s playground, where the people may not know they are worshipping him, but they are adverse to the Father, and as a result praise the prince of darkness. Spiritual darkness has poured over the fence line into the compound, and we’ve had to spiritually cleanse the house and the compound through prayer walks, speaking in tongues, worshipping, and vocally proclaiming the name of Jesus as the most powerful, rebuking the forces that are not of the Lord from the spiritual oppression that many of us have been feeling.
On this side of the fence, the praise of the Lord is on the tips of the tongues of the women who care for the children and help us make meals every day, on the two men who oversee the compound and who give us direction, and on the lips of the children who live here. The light of the Lord is shining brightly in every crevice of this little neighborhood- this city on a hill, this lamp on the stand, this salt of the Kingdom.
It’s been a challenging month for me. I’ve never been on the front line of a spiritual battle. I’ve never felt so spiritually oppressed. I’ve woken up with sadness overwhelming my heart, and my body has been physically tired. The Lord has asked me to surrender my old life completely, to let go of everything my heart has been holding onto, and to hold onto Him alone. My Grandpa died in the second week, and I have been learning how to grieve away from my family, how to mourn alone with the Lord. And on top of all of that, I’ve battled the spiritual warfare that has deeply affected my emotions.
If I’m going to be completely honest, I’ve been ready to leave Ethiopia since I felt the intensity of the warfare, and heard the stories of my squad mates who interacted with the demonic activity spilling over from the other side. I’ve been ready to leave since I have woken up every morning with a heart heavy with a weight like a two ton brick has been tied to it. I’ve been ready to leave since I’ve received the phone call that my Grandpa finally lost his life to cancer.
This month, for the first time on the race, I’ve been wrecked with sobs, crying out to God, telling Him I want to go home. Instead of reprimanding me, or telling me to put my nose to the grindstone, He has gently whispered, “I know. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.” He’s wrapped His arms around me, caught every tear, told me He loves me, and reminded me to walk through the valley with my arm linked in His.
There’s this song called Christ is Enough by Hillsong. Before I left for the race, I prayed the words over myself. I hoped that as I packed my life into one bag, and ventured to travel the world for the sake of the Lord, the lyrics would become my anthem. I desired for nothing to define me but my relationship with God.
While I sat doing devotions this morning, the song came on, and I knew I had to go on a walk. I began to pace the fence line, letting the words seep into my soul until I truly believed them. Standing on a little mound of dirt, I overlooked the other side, past the brown fields peppered with cows and sheep and Ethiopian shepherds, to the towering hills beyond. Overcome with awe of the Lord’s creation and His character, I let the words fall off my lips:
“I have decided to follow Jesus,
No turning back, no turning back.
The cross before me, the world behind me,
No turning back, no turning back.
Christ is enough for me!
Christ is enough for me!
Everything I need is in you,
Everything I need.
Christ is enough for me!
Christ is enough for me!
Everything I need is in you,
Everything I need!”
I proclaimed it to the rolling hills, to the men and animals, to the spiritual darkness swirling over the opposite sides of the fence.
And after all my trials this month, having nothing to hold on to but the Lord, and coming out stronger in my love for Him, I know I truly believe it.
