This in another installment in the “musings from Sarah’s journal” suite that appears on the blog from time to time. Anyway, I wrote this one while in Thailand based on something I was working through in Cambodia. Anyway, I hope it encourages you!
“Get out of the temple”
I can be a gullible person, sometimes unable to tell whether someone’s joking or being serious. I ask people to be clear with me, because my default response is to assume that they are serious, and when I’m wrong it’s a bit embarrassing. My logic is this: I would rather mistake a joke as a true statement than to assume someone is joking when in reality they are being serious. I don’t want to hurt them on the off chance I make light of a situation I shouldn’t.
So if someone chose to take advantage of me, a sincere lie could trip me up unless I found evidence that proved otherwise. Perhaps I want to believe the best of others, or maybe I just don’t pick up on subtlety. I’m apt to believe a lie here or there.
Now there’s more to this than falling for it when someone tells me that they once saw Jimmy Fallon in an elevator. That type of thing is pretty harmless for the most part, but what I’m really talking about here are the deeper, more personal lies.
The lie that I’m not good enough.
The lie that conflicts are 100% my fault.
The lie that anxiety and depression own me.
The lie that I am hard to love and an inconvenience.
The lie that I can’t love people well.
The lie that I am alone.
The lie that no one understands.
The lie that I am not a good teammate.
The lie that I’m a failure.
I could go on, but I won’t because that’s depressing. No one’s ever told me these things directly, but they made their way to me somehow. And even when I’m not consciously thinking these things, the lies have been there – hanging over me like toxic smoke and poisoning everything around me. The trouble is that I don’t always recognize them for what they are. Why?
Because Satan is a damn good liar, that’s why.
He’s smooth. He’s convincing. He presents twisted, manipulative logic that I don’t think twice to refute. Clearly I need to get better at this discernment thing.
Eventually I catch on, piece by piece. At this point though, it’s hard to shake the falsehoods – I’m not really sure what’s real and what’s not. They’ve broken into my mind and won’t go without a fight.
…But then I remember: isn’t my body – and therefore my mind as well – supposed to be a temple of the Lord? I am the gatekeeper. I decide who and what comes in and goes out. I am the one who opens and closes the door. The lies of the enemy have no place in the temple. But no one can give them the boot except for me.
Now I can’t just drag them out and unceremoniously kick them to the curb – something has to take their place or they’re likely to creep back in. So I drive them out with truth, forgetting what the accuser says and replacing them with what my God, my loving Father says.
He tells me I am his child.
He tells me I am free.
He tells me I am redeemed.
He tells me I am loved.
He tells me I am valued.
He tells me I am chosen.
He tells me I am victorious.
He tells me I am brave.
He tells me I am good.
He tells me I am enough.
And you know what: that’s enough. Get out of the temple, Satan. You don’t belong here and you aren’t coming back in.
