I watched the kind man in the truck drive away to his early shift, I imagine.
Not knowing quite what to do with myself at that point, I walked back outside of my dorm and onto the former boarding school campus where we were staying for our retreat. I knew Robert was walking somewhere on campus to get a bit of exercise himself, and I hoped I might find him.
As I began to run along the sidewalks on campus, a sentiment that hardly ever enters my heart when things go wrong rose up toward God in a bewildered, but then angry sort of way.
It was a Why? With a How could you have let that happen? sort of attitude.
In a word, it was blame.
Accompanied by incredulity, if I’m honest.
I mean, here I am at a 3-day church staff retreat on the heels of a maximum capacity summer. One kid graduated. One kid got married. A week later we did 10 days of youth camp. Solid streak of Airbnb guests. Parties. Goodbyes. More weddings. I’m exhausted. I helped cook dinner last night. I sang worship songs and prayed last night. I’m up early today. And that stupid car swerved in front of me just as I was praying, counting my blessings, thanking God for His good gifts, His creation, His grace.
You know, doing all of the right things when I didn’t really feel like it, so…
What was that all about, God?
As if my “good deeds” somehow obligate God to shield me from all inconveniences and trials.
His answer to that question came rather quickly.
In a very short time, my self-righteous contempt began to be overshadowed by the fear I hadn’t fully felt in those short moments of panic, and a soberness regarding what had just happened emerged.
What if they had hit me with their car?
What if they had gotten out of the car?
What if they had approached me?
What if they’d forced me into the car?
What if they had a gun? A knife?
What if there hadn’t been a house nearby?
That could have been really bad.
The tears began almost immediately and with them a truer picture of what was really going on, I think. It’s a glimpse of the battle was the thought that kept coming to mind. And a recurring thought is often how God speaks to me, how the Holy Spirit leads.
It was really in an instant that my accusations of injustice turned into sobs of gratitude over what was being shown to me.
But the car didn’t hit you.
No one approached you.
There were no weapons wielded.
There was a house…directly to your left.
And not only that, but a large, strong, trustworthy man walked out of that house at precisely the moment you needed Him.
I let you see a bit of the darkness, and then I delivered you safely home.
I really don’t like putting words in God’s mouth, but this was my unfolding train of thought, and I believe it was Him bringing it all to my mind.
I think I needed the reminder that this life and ministry are embattled. There is no coasting. Numbness and complacency might get you killed. Battle armor isn’t all that fashionable lately, but it must be worn daily. (See Ephesians 6)
But, in my weariness, I also needed reminding that there is a Rescuer close at hand. An already-victorious warrior who goes before me in the fight. (I’ve been reading Deuteronomy lately, and there are several verses like this one.)
embattled: (of a place or people) involved in or prepared for war, especially because surrounded by enemy forces. (See here.)
rescuer: a person who saves someone from a dangerous or difficult situation. (See here.)
At 8am that morning, our church staff would gather for breakfast, for dreaming, for planning, and for praying – for the coming school year, for the hundreds of students who will come through the church doors all semester, for the many families in our congregation, the growing number of children, for the young singles, and for all of the least of these in our midst.
For the five college campuses and the local communities.
Praying and planning about how to most effectively…go and make disciples, baptize, and teach. And our enemy really despises all of those things, prowling around seeking someone to devour, but we are not ignorant to his schemes. We know he wants to blind people and keep them from seeing the light of Christ, and so any effort to give sight is…embattled.
Not finding him, I texted Robert to see where he was on campus, and discovered that he’d already returned to our dorm room. Seeing him as I walked through the door caused the sobs to return. He just held me, anxiously awaiting the reason for my tears. When I recounted the story, he agreed with my estimation of it being evil and intentional before I could even suggest it.
All day long, we wrestled with whether or not to tell the rest of the staff, finally agreeing that they should know what had happened that morning. After I finished telling the story, Tommy, our newest staff member called us to pray together. It was a sober but sweet time of fellowship and of reminding ourselves about the embattled nature of our calling.
On Thursday mornings at 7am I have the great privilege of meeting with a group of women who are all in full time ministry. We’re studying I and II Timothy – “the pastoral epistles” – which is perfect for this particular group, because we’re all receiving the encouragement and instruction that Paul gave to Timothy as he ministered in the church at Ephesus.
We’re not even through the first chapter of the first book, but I haven’t been able to escape noticing Paul’s repetition of the phrase “fight the good fight” throughout the two books. Twice he tells Timothy to “fight the good fight” and then he closes his second letter by saying he has “fought the good fight” himself.
I was so tired (and prideful) that I just wanted to coast, and I felt deserving of at least a temporary exemption from the fight. But God loves me enough to awaken me to the realities of the battle and remind me of the joy it is to stay in the fight, of the help and sustaining grace He gives for it. True rest and reward are certainly in my future because of it.
4 thoughts on “A Battle and a Rescue: Part 2”
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I’m happy that you were unharmed in this incident. And that showed you His blessing as our rescuer.
Thank you so much, Victoria.
The following verse immediately came to my mind upon reading this tonight. “He rescues me unharmed from the battle waged against me…” Psalm 55:8 I am so thankful you were delivered unharmed from this frightening situation. Praying for the upcoming year to be one in which the name of the Lord is magnified at Mercyhouse, in the Amherst community, and in the lives of those He has you pouring the Word of Life into. So thankful we shelter beneath the Most High God who brings victory with His righteous right hand! Battle gear on! 💜
That Psalm has had both beautiful and difficult meaning in my life for many years. Thank you for reminding me. 💗