Distractions

It’s been a while—again. Not because nothing has been happening. I suppose you could say I’ve been distracted.

This happened.

Our dryer stopped heating. Being the wannabe DIY girl I am, I convinced my husband that it would be an easy fix—probably just a heating coil that needed replaced. Turns out, our particular brand of dryer had to be completely disassembled from the front. Completely disassembled. From the front. Yes, that means we had to take apart the entire dryer, including the drum. After several hours of that, we determined the dryer wasn’t worth repairing, and we sure didn’t want to put it together again.

I’ve been very thankful that I already had a clothesline I could set up. I wasn’t nearly thankful enough for the unseasonable rainy weather we had immediately after our dryer breakdown.

Then there was this.

Nothing puts a severe clog on display quite like a child turning on the faucet and walking away. The sink filled. So did the floor. My son and I took the drain apart all the way to the wall before finding the source of the problem. Then it was a game of Tetris to put all those pipes back correctly. Of course, we had to dry the entire bathroom floor with towels I then had to wash and then, you know, put on the line to dry.

We can’t forget this.

This was the Friday when my youngest stepped on a rusty nail. She’s up-to-date on tetanus shots, but that didn’t prevent it from immediately getting infected. To the doctor we went to get antibiotics. She was quite disappointed that they didn’t have any unicorn masks.

On a less stressful note, there was gardening to do, berries to pick, and livestock to manage. The rain does wonders for the cold-weather plants, but the weeds find it pretty helpful, too. I finally managed to uncover my onions and salad greens.

I won’t even talk about the bees. They’re an entire blog post of their own.

Believe it or not, I managed to take these things in stride. Okay, the nail worried me, but otherwise, cool as a breeze. Just ask my husband. On second thought, don’t.

Anyway, the reason I could take these things in stride is because I recognized them for what they were. Distractions.

The thing about distractions is that they can be good or bad. They can be good, as when we’re distracted by a funny incident that momentarily lifts the weight of grief. They can be bad, as when a distracted driver crosses the yellow line and destroys lives. They can even be sneaky, as when a “wizard” uses booming voices and powerful images to distract from the little man behind the curtain.

That’s what all these things were. Distractions.

There’s a lot going on in our country right now. A lot going on in the world. A lot going on that’s bad. In some ways I feel the same about them as I do about my dryer and bathroom drain and all the rest that’s been keeping my attention.

They’re distractions.

Don’t jump down my throat. I’m not saying that COVID-19 isn’t real or that racism isn’t a thing. Not at all. I do look at the chaos churning around us and think that everything is, to use a term from blogger and speaker Heidi St. John, “bananas.” I can’t help but think that all of it—the overreaching yet spineless government, the divisions over race and whether to wear a mask (seriously?), the riots, the defacing of history, CHAZ—all of it is one big smokescreen. We’re being distracted. Moreover, there’s a sneak attack on our flank by fear, hate, division, and chaos. That all tells me one thing.

We’re not each other’s enemies. We have a bigger problem.

Paul tells us in Ephesians 6, “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Eph. 6:12 ESV).

Did you catch that? Not against flesh and blood. Our enemy is less visible, and much stronger. I’m not saying this to scare you out of your socks. There’s more to the story. That verse is one part of a larger passage:

 “Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication” (Eph. 6:10-18a ESV, emphasis mine).

Believers, Christ-followers, have armor—truth, righteousness, readiness, faith, and salvation, all there to guard us again that big, bad enemy. We even have a weapon—just one. We have the Word of God as our weapon and our prayers to wield it.

Let’s make no mistake. God has won the war. He defeated sin on the cross and death by rising from the tomb. If we have faith in Christ, the devil can’t touch us, not in any way that matters.

He can distract us, and he’s good at it. He’s great at sneaky little sleight of hand that gets us to look the other way and ignore what he’s really up to. He’s good at making us focus on the symptoms instead of the disease.

So what do we do?

Don’t fall for it. Recognize the smoke screen, make sure your armor is in place, and raise your weapon. I’ll warn you from personal experience that when you go on the offensive, you’ll get pushback. Heaven knows, your dryer might even break. But that’s okay, because you’re really not the one fighting. Hear these words:

“The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent” (Ex. 14:14).

“You shall not fear them, for it is the Lord your God who fights for you” (Deut. 3:22).

“But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one” (2 Thessalonians 3:3).

There are more where those came from. I said it before. What we have, what the whole human race has, is a sin problem.  Only one name can cut through the distractions and get to the root. What you need to do—what I need to do, what we all need to do—is pick up our Bibles and fall on our knees to use the weapon we have to fight our real enemy.

And don't get distracted.

Words

I have a headache.

I have an ache in my heart.

I am bone-weary.

This year, 2020, has been a most exhausting year. I say that having gone through years when I lost several family members and friends, having gone through financial hardships and medical emergencies. This year has really upped the game.

We see and circulate the funny memes about toilet paper and land sharks and level 6 of Jumanji, and we chuckle, but I believe it’s more of a “laugh or we’ll cry” humor.

The tensions in this country have been getting tighter for years. The divides have been deepening. The hatred has been growing. We all sense it, but in general we stick bandages over it all and try to pretend everything is okay. I’m ashamed to say that I’ve been one who has seen it but not spoken, felt it but not acted. It was easier to keep my head down and worry about my own small circle of existence than to speak love into hate, be light in the darkness, scatter salt on the earth.

“Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing.” ~John Stuart Mill, address at the University of St. Andrews, 1867

Since March it has been as if the bandage has been ripped off and a gaping wound revealed. It’s a cut to the artery, and if we don’t get some triage soon, we’re going to bleed out.

Fear. Division. Hate. Racial tension and dirty politics. The shaming and grinding into the dirt of those who disagree with the established narrative. All of that is pouring out of that festering hole.

I’m a wordsmith. That’s my talent and that’s my trade. I deal in words. Words to tell the facts, words to inspire, words to spark the imagination. This year I find myself largely silent. I have no words. So much pain to speak to, and so few meaningful words to speak. The feelings and thoughts are too large to capture and contain in words. Besides, there were and are plenty of people scattering words all over the place. Would my words even help, or would they be one more wave in the ocean of chaos that’s threatening to overwhelm us? If I stay silent, am I participating in the lie? If I speak, will my words spark more anger and hatred?

I’m not a doctor or a nurse. I’m just a homeschool mom with an inquiring mind. How do I speak to the fear running rampant regarding COVID-19? What right do I have to talk about survival rates when I haven’t lost anyone to the virus? Why should anyone listen when I say the virus is real, but that power-hungry people have used it as a political tool, and that the panic and division and suspicion they’ve caused don’t have any place here?

I don’t have dark skin. I’m a white girl from a pretty monochromatic rural area. How do I understand or speak to the fears of my friends whose skin is darker than mine? Why should anyone believe me when I say I celebrate the wonderful hues God created in us but refuse to be ashamed of my own skin? Why should anyone listen when I say that violence only begets violence, and someone, someday, has to decide to stop the cycle—or say that I don’t even believe the riots and violence are about George Floyd at all?

So much to say. Yet I feel like my voice has been stifled, partly by those who would shame me for speaking a different message, partly from my own cowardice in not wanting to draw fire to myself.

Yet, here are my words.

I don’t hold to a revisionist view of history. I believe great, God-fearing men and women founded a country that was meant to be a beacon of light. In many ways we have been, but have we been in all ways? People of America, we have much to repent of. Have we committed the sins of slavery and segregation? Yes. Have we acted with violence and arrogance toward the first nations? Yes. Is there still racial division?

Yes.

Those are all sins of which we need to repent. But they are far from the only sins, and they are not contained to one race.

Have we stood by and let the slaughter of 60 million unborn children happen largely unopposed?

Yes.

Have we closed our eyes to violence against our neighbors because of race, poverty, or politics?

Yes.

Have we relinquished our duty to serve the widows and orphans?

Yes.

Have we abandoned the hopeless and the helpless, the addicted and the mentally ill?

Yes.

Have we cowered in the face a sexual “revolution” that breaks down the family and causes moral decay at the very root of our society?

Yes.

When we have spoken up, have our voices been raised in anger and hate instead of speaking the truth in love?

Yes.

I don’t say these things from the sidelines, as a guiltless party passing judgment on those around me. We, America, have much to repent of.

The weight of all that sin is crushing. It seems so bleak, so hopeless. We search for answers to our problems, but in all the wrong places. We will not find relief in politics or policies, though much in that area needs change. The answer doesn’t lie in psychology, or even morality. There is only one truth that can be spoken into all the lies around us.

America, we need transformation from the inside out. We need hearts of flesh instead of hearts of stone (Deut. 10:16, 30:6, Ezekiel 36:26). We need boldness instead of fear (Josh. 10:25, 2 Tim. 1:7). We need to speak love into hate, shine light in the darkness, be salt on the earth.

We need to repent and turn to the author and perfecter of our faith. We need the Spirit of Christ Jesus to pour across this country like a wildfire. We need a soul revival. We need Jesus.

One way. One truth. One life. Maybe my words aren’t necessary. Maybe no words are truly necessary because only one Word matters.

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).

I have ended up using a lot of words here, but the message is simple. Only one Word can speak light into existence out of darkness. Only one Word gives us the power of love in the midst of hate. Only one Word can transform humanity from the inside out, like the breath of Aslan turning stone to living, vibrant flesh.

“For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Heb. 4:12).

That’s a Word we all need to speak.