Battle Fatigue

Today brings a second wave of an overwhelming feeling that I want to quit. This time it is family-related. We have some that claim to be saved, some that say, “I don’t need that” and some that are oblivious to the gospel or their spiritual needs. We spent a few hours with them yesterday and after years and years of daily prayer for them, and a few times of sharing Christ when it seemed He wanted me to do so, I see absolutely no progress or change in their spiritual lives. Rather, they seem less interested or concerned than ever.

Faith tells me to keep at it, but when I read 1 Samuel 17:37 this morning, I thought, “I’m no David. This daily battle for them is too much for me.”

The story in 1 Samuel 17 is that familiar one of David and Goliath, the giant Philistine who was mocking the armies of God. Every Israelite soldier was afraid of him. Not David. He’d left his responsibility for a flock of sheep in the care of someone else so he could deliver cheese to the army base where his three older brothers were located. There he witnessed great commotion and consternation over this huge Philistine who had challenged anyone to a fight. He said the armies behind the winner would then be servants to the other army. No one stepped up to the challenge. They were all terrified of this giant.

But David was ready to fight. He stepped forward only to be told he couldn’t do it. He was too young and not experienced in battle. David replied that he had killed a lion and a bear that had attacked his sheep, and “this uncircumcised Philistine will be like one of them, seeing he has defied the armies of the living God.” Moreover David said, “The Lord, who delivered me from the paw of the lion and from the paw of the bear, He will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine.”

And Saul (the king) said to David, “Go, and the Lord be with you.”

Anyone familiar with this Old Testament story knows what happened next. David tried Saul’s armor, but it didn’t fit. Instead he took the weapons he was familiar with, a staff and a slingshot with five smooth stones. As he came close to the giant, the giant mocked and cursed him. But David said, “You come to me with a sword, with a spear, and with a javelin. But I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the Lord will deliver you into my hand . . . that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel. . . .”

And He did. David was a youth, but because God was with him, Goliath didn’t have a chance. The giant died that day, his army fled, and the army of Israel pursued and overtook them, winning the battle, plundering their goods, and bringing honor to God.

For me the battle is not for spoils but souls, and the enemy is not flesh and blood but the power of sin, lies and indifference. God gives me armor and weapons to defend myself (Ephesians 6:10-18) but today I feel like I’ve lost ground, my smooth stones are ineffective, and if they don’t give a rip about their eternal destiny or their spiritual life, why should I? I know I’m not supposed to feel like this, but I’ve never been good at faking it or pulling up my own bootstraps. Israel’s champion was David, but mine is not me.

Funny, but Saul’s words keep coming back. He was not a good king, but he was the authority, and he told David, “Go, and the Lord be with you.”

When I pray, this is all I have. Prayer is just words tossed at the ceiling unless God is in it, and the only way to know if God is in it is to keep praying. I’m tired of it, but I do hear Him asking me again to just be faithful. He also whispers that the battle is no over until one side or the other gives up. Do I really want it to be me? And even if I did quit, isn’t He on my side?

Prayer is hard work, yet I know I’d not hit the target with a slingshot and some rocks so I’d better quit whining and get at it.