O Lord, oppose those who oppose me. Fight those who fight against me. … Make their path dark and slippery, with the angel of the Lord pursuing them. [Psalm 35:1,6 (NLT)
Let death stalk my enemies; let the grave swallow them alive, for evil makes its home within them. [Psalm 55:15 (NLT)]
A few nights ago, I had some unwelcome visitors—worry and anger—and they wouldn’t let me sleep. I responded to their visit with prayer and yet it seemed God had closed His office for the night. We’d just received an accusatory and demanding “do this or else” letter from an attorney and my prayers had been as accusing and vindictive as was the letter. No wonder God turned a deaf ear to them.
Throughout much of King David’s life, he was beset by enemies: Philistines, Babylonians, Moabites, Ammonites, King Saul, and even his own son Absalom. As a result, many of his Psalms include what are known as imprecatory prayers in which he asks God to punish and destroy his enemies, sometimes in quite horrible ways. Although David was asking God to settle the matter of evil, I find it hard to reconcile his words with Christianity’s love, forgiveness, meekness and peace. As Christians, no matter how much we dislike someone or how malicious or nasty he (or she) happens to be, we are never to curse them or wish evil upon anyone. In fact, Jesus tells us to do the exact opposite—we are to love, pray for and bless those who curse us. Moreover, we are to submit to God’s sovereignty and pray that His (not our) will be done. The only way to be at peace with God is to be at peace with his children.
I’ve encountered opposition several times, but having flesh and blood adversaries or enemies is new to me. Our integrity has never been questioned before this and I was wounded, confused and irate. I knew I had to pray for our legal enemies and, while I didn’t curse them with imprecatory prayer, I certainly wasn’t blessing them either. As I prayed that they would be reasonable, see the light, change their minds, concede the error of their ways, and go away quietly, I was really praying about me, not for them. Again, it seemed that God was deaf to my pleas. It took me awhile before I understood that my real enemy wasn’t human; he was right there in my mind, tormenting me with outraged, vengeful and worrisome thoughts. It was not until I stopped thinking of these people as foes and started to pray blessings for them that I felt God again open His door to me and my prayers. As I prayed for them, for their health and happiness and even their prosperity, my anger subsided and my worry disappeared.
While I think we’ve acted honorably and been honest and forthright, I’m sure the other party is as sure they’re justified in their accusations and demands. In actuality, the truth probably lies somewhere in between. I’ll leave it to the lawyers and God to figure out a sensible and peaceful solution. I’ve already lost one night’s sleep over this; I’m not about to lose my soul, as well. As for me, I’m going to love, forgive and pray blessings for my enemy and, if need be, even turn the other cheek.
As I viewed the picturesque waterfall, the tremendous amount of water pouring over the rock, and the deep gorge formed by the glacial river, I thought of H. Jackson Brown’s quote: “In the confrontation between the stream and the rock, the stream always wins, not through strength but by perseverance.” Thinking it a good start for a devotion about patience and determination, I looked forward to writing it when I got home. Having been out of town thirty out of the last seventy days, however, I’ve been playing “catch-up” since returning from Canada. Domestic chores, family obligations, paper work, commitments, appointments, assorted health issues, and then my mother-in-law’s hospitalization have eaten away at me and I’m physically and emotionally exhausted. Today, during prayers, it occurred to me that something else is as persistent (and effective) as that rushing water—Satan! While the enemy enjoys throwing major disasters our way, as he did with Job, he also likes to peck at us like a troublesome woodpecker or whittle away at us as water does to rock. Through persistence, water defeats rock; like that persistent water, the enemy is determined to defeat us.
Not all of us have the benefit of eighty years’ experience as did Moses when God called on him. Take David, for example, he was just a young shepherd boy when called on to become both warrior and king. Peter and John were fishermen; nothing in their backgrounds prepared them for their roles as Apostles and founders of a church. Mary was just a girl, in the town of Nazareth, engaged to be married to a local carpenter. What preparation did she have to become the mother of God? Gideon was a farmer, hiding from the Midianites in a wine press while threshing wheat, when God called to him. In fact, Gideon protested that, as the most insignificant member of the weakest clan, he couldn’t be the one to rescue Israel.
The eagle is mentioned more than any other bird of prey in the Bible. References are made to its swiftness of flight, ability to soar high in the air, excellent vision, the way it sets its nest in high places, and the strength of its wings. The above two verses about eagles, however, are more figurative than literal and have no scientific basis. Although mother eagles do hover over their young, they cannot carry them. A bald eagle’s lifting power is only about a third of its weight. An eaglet ready to fly is as heavy as its parents. If Mrs. Eagle tried to carry junior, they’d both fall! The second verse about being renewed like an eagle is probably connected to an ancient belief that every ten years the eagle disappeared into the sun, dove down into the sea with the setting sun, and emerged young again. There’s a similar urban myth that at 30 years of age, the eagle flies to a high mountain top and makes the difficult decision between death or the painful plucking out of all of its feathers and the destruction of its beak and talons. After waiting several months for everything to grow back again, it will be transformed and the refreshed bird will be able to live another 30 years. Not so; like the rest of us, when it’s time to grow old and die, the eagle has no choice. Like other birds, however, when the eagle molts, old worn feathers will drop and new ones will replace them.
When writing yesterday’s devotion (“It’s Curtains”), I couldn’t help but feel a brief pang of regret because I never had those conversations with my parents before they died. The thoughts, “Please forgive me. I forgive you. Thank you. I love you,” may have been assumed but never were spoken. I was fifteen when my mother succumbed to cancer. I saw her that day in hospital but, when I walked out that afternoon, I was sure I’d see her again when I visited the following day. I never thought the next time I saw her she’d be lying in a casket. When people would say, “She looks so good,” I wanted to shout at them and say, “She doesn’t look good; she looks dead!” Five years later, I was in the same funeral home and surrounded by many of the same mourners. That time, it was my father’s body lying so still in the front of the room. Two day earlier he’d been hunting pheasants when his heart failed; he died in the middle of a corn field. I’d seen him just a few weeks before that and never thought our farewell was the final one. Did my parents know how much I loved them? Did they know how sorry I was for my failings? Did they know I forgave them for theirs? Did they know how thankful I was for the life they gave me?
Devotions of the Heart 