The Vise

This is not the first time it's happened.  I can remember other times more clearly than most.  It's like a hand, first coming and caressing my soft-pumping heart. The fingers flirt with the movement until my heart is tamed to the idea.  Then they grab hold, still gently, but like a vise.  Ever slowly the fingers tighten and tighten their grip and, unnoticed by me, turn from flesh to steel with each gripping movement.  A stealth move like no other. I don't recognize the attack, even after I've been taken captive.  With every pump those steely fingers burrow into my heart, a slow creeping pain.  But, even still, I don't notice.  I accept it.  I embrace it.  It's a part of me.  It's who I am.

Anger, bitterness, fear, hatred, lust, envy, pride - this vise, this tactic of the enemy, comes in a variety of colors.  But for me, this time, fear grabbed hold.  It took control.  My captivated eyes fixated on the fear and, when they did manage to pull away to look on something else, the contagious fear stuck to my eyeballs and infected everything I saw.  I panicked about small things.  I treated my kids differently.  I waited for the fearful thing to happen, expected it even.  It was difficult to hear the voice of God.

But I heard it.  Two days ago.   I had some hours to myself (how important lonely hours are!) and I was angry because my fearful hopes and expectations for the day had been dashed, and I sat alone with the sickening feeling of a hard kick in the gut and I wept.  I was supposed to spend the evening knowing results and how to move forward and instead it was more waiting and....it dawned on me....more fearing.  Had I been so fearful?

It hit me like an anvil dropped from a 30 story building.  Crushed to pieces.  My hopes and securities had rested in my own knowledge and the feelings of control I would gain from it.  I had clung to that string of hope thinking I could kick the fear in the face once I knew.  It was all about me.

In my selfish aloneness He met me and whispered in my ear that He already knows-and that's enough.  That in my waiting I had not been asking Him enough, but had let each nail-scraping day pass by in tense expectation.

If I am to live in relationship, in friendship, and to walk with this Jesus who created and knows my heart, I can't forget to talk to Him.  I can't leave out a section of my heart.  I can't give it away to someone or something else. 

No wonder His voice felt small.

God is greater than all fear.  In fact, He casts it out.  This life, this world, is a warzone.  This enemy of God doesn't give up in his prowling quest to overthrow the people in it, most especially those belonging to God.  He sneaks and swerves and worms his way into our hearts and eyes and minds and he's on the constant move, squinting his eyes towards the tiniest chink in our armor.

So make it secure.  Talk to God.  Read His word.  Spend the time in quietness so you have eyes to see when the enemy has pervaded.  Let Jesus shatter that vise.