The Need for A Saviour

Marching to the battlegrounds, gearing-up for a fight, wrestling with insincerity, dishonesty, and games...Yes, it is exhausting. Battling for truth drains energy more swiftly than any other fight known to humanity. Why? Because fighting for truth not only requires soldiers to stand against the enemy, but against their own hearts -- against the compromise, the weaknesses, and the lies instilled within their own minds. A soldier, must not only determine to conquer the enemy with truth, but also determine to hold on to the truth from beginning to end, despite weakness, imperfections, and doubts. The double-battle brings weariness quickly. It brings fatigue. It brings exhaustion. And the prison of stagnant exhaustion -- of weariness, fear, and doubt -- holds so many hearts captive.

Exhaustion holds the most vulnerable and the most pivotal point in any battle. I've been there. You've been there; you may even be there now. It is that ice-gold grip over your heart, screaming that you can go no further, that you have little left to give. Exhaustion envelopes your heart, sighing that the war is hopeless, whispering that there are no rays of hope, no light of success beyond the dark clouds of reality. Heaviness blankets your soul, dulling your weapons, slowing your feet, and confusing your mind. Yes, exhaustion comes only too readily when you decide to fight against sin and against impurity, weakening your desire to wield the truth in fearlessness and in power. Your defense mechanism slows. And you begin to doubt. But the doubt only wearies a soldier further -- eroding reason, attacking any resolve to stand firm in truth. Questions berate the protective armor you have already begun to remove: "Why am I fighting again?" "Why am I putting my neck on this guillotine?" "For what?" "Truth? Do I even know that I'm fighting for truth?" "Compromise? What's wrong with compromise?" "Can compromise really hurt me any worse than this?" "Virtue? What's virtue got to do with anything?" "How is purity any part of this?" "Is this fight even necessary?" "Is this battle even real?" .....Exhaustion. Doubt. Questions. Compromise. Circumstances become unclear as you grope for reality. Exhaustion becomes heavier, darker -- foreshadowing the coming of a choice.

Too often weariness and tiredness dictate the end of a struggle. The fight no longer pivots on the reason behind the war, the wrong or the right; rather, the fight becomes centered on strength, or the lack of it. Feelings -- weak, susceptible to deception -- dilute perspective. Relying on feelings intoxicates reason and judgment. Misplaced feelings tear apart the purpose behind the war for beauty, shattering it to reflect whatever the feelings desire to see: inevitable failure, hopelessness, uselessness, compromise. Feelings will mirror weakness, weariness, exhaustion, confusion, folly. "You are tired; quit while you still live." "This battle is trapping you, confusing you; make an escape." "You are losing; offer compromise." "You are alone; surrender." "You are fighting for the wrong side; give up." Feelings remain confined by circumstances. Misplace them and they will lead to foolishness -- decisions based on neither reason nor perspective. Follow them and they will offer a burning platform, standing a midst the flames of flawed instinct and imperfect human-judgment. And yet from this platform, instinct insists that all is well: removing the heavy armor feels better, lighter; laying down the weapons feels calming, peaceful; compromise feels safe. Surrender feels almost joyful. In fact, it almost feels right.

But what is so wrong about surrendering to exhaustion, to even feelings themselves? They are created by God, right? Instilled with a purpose, yes? Yes, yes they are. But like all things in this broken world, feelings are diseased. Disassociate them from the perfection of their Creator and they are diseased further still. Separate feelings from their divine intention, and they will experience a death of goodness altogether. When emotions compel reason instead of being reigned in by reason, the balance of the human heart is upset, perspective is lost, and the mind can no longer see things for what they truly are. How can it when feelings have distorted rationale and thrown the soul into anarchy? Through the eyes of emotions, exhaustion becomes failure; truth becomes subjective; compromise becomes good; and the whispers of the enemy no longer seem like weapons intended for destruction -- they feel sweet. They feel like answers to the doubts, healing to the wounds. "No, this battle does not need to be fought. There is no battle." "No, nothing here is at stake." "Life wasn't meant to be a war. Doesn't fighting feel wrong?" "Life is so much better apart from fighting." "Purity? What? Who has the right to tell you what is pure for you and what is impure? Only you can feel what is wrong or right for you." On the platform of misplaced feelings, fighting seems useless. Purity -- worthless.

The danger of exhaustion is not in exhaustion itself but in its rapid development into apathy. Likewise, the sin does not reside in growing weary, but in permitting that weariness to conquer us. Why is that a sin? What ability do we have to conquer our own exhaustion and to remain steadfast against the enemy? Think: Who has been standing by your side from the moment you determined to begin this battle? Who blessed you with truths as weapons, with faith and salvation as armor? You feel alone. But are you, really? Or have you neglected your greatest Weapon, your greatest Hope of all? This is the question that exhaustion reveals. And this is the choice that arises the very second weakness steps on to the battlefield: Will you surrender to weakness, or will you seek Christ's strength? Will you fear failure and compromise, or beg for God's renewal? Will you remove the heavy armor, or ask God to fight for you? Will you fall to your own limitations? Will you pretend that you don't need help, or will you admit that you need a Saviour? The answers to these questions determine the outcome of the battle. Not your imperfections. Not your fear. Not your feelings. Not your weakness. Not your exhaustion.

Purity cannot be won through imperfection. Beauty cannot be seen through the eyes of misplaced feelings. And victory cannot be achieved without weapons and armor. Compromise the values at stake -- integrity, honesty, and purity -- and you will lose. Ignore the truth and you will stumble. Rely on your own judgment and you will fall. You will fall to exhaustion and you will quit the fight for righteousness. And as you surrender to the temptations of men, you will break your own heart. You will break God's heart.....He is waiting to save you. He is wanting to redeem you. He passionate for your purity. He is enthralled by your beauty. You are His desire. He loves you. So don't surrender your purity when He is ready to fight for you. Don't be afraid to fall when He is eager to carry you. But above all, don't walk on to this battlefield alone when your heart cries out for a Saviour.

"Come to Me all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." - Matthew 11:28

The Game

As I've fought the battles of this week, my mind has wandered down memory lane, reminiscing some of my previous fights for purity, for integrity. The pain of these past struggles has become more acute as I watch girls surrender in the same fights, exchanging the rules of integrity for the nonchalance of games. To some, life is just a game; insincerity raises the value; innocent hearts supply the currency; and avoiding exposure stands as the only rule. Yes, I am only too familiar with this setting: I've played the game and the beginning looks a little like this...

He's cute. He pays you a compliment. You're flattered. You want another one. But there's just something a little too atrocious about saying 'thank you' and leaving the rest up to the guy. No, that's much too simple. So you add just a touch more flirtation to your response -- something to give a little edge to the situation and offer a little encouragement. And it doesn't stop there. The next move requires a fishing line and plenty of hooks with seduction as bait. You like the way this guy talks to you, the way he makes you feel, so you'll want to keep him around with little regard to what it'll take to reel him in. Your flirtation earns additional flattery; and your returning flattery earns an element of seriousness from the cute guy. Of course, you brush off this seriousness and sincerity as useless and inconvenient. You're not after sincerity; your game would shatter as soon as sincerity began to play a role. However, the guy's seriousness doesn't fade -- he begins his own fishing, searching, wondering if you could be the girl of his dreams. He plays the fiddle and you dance to whatever tune he makes, drawing him in as you subtly suggest that you will play whatever hand he can deal you. Your performance improves with each song. The guy's impressed. His approval flatters you. And the game continues on a little while longer...

But only a little while: His approval transitions into action. He's being real. He's being sincere. And you freak. The game begins to collapse as the guys steps forward, attempting a victory over your heart, reaching for something deeper than flirtation and a merry dance. But there's a problem: there were never any suits of hearts in this deck -- at least not for you. His advancements in sincerity demand a progression in yours -- something you were never willing to give. It's a new tune, one you won't dance to. It's a game turned real. You fold. Things were never supposed to get so out-of-hand.

We've all been guilty of performing these scenes. And I'll be the first to admit that it's an act I've had plenty of experience in. That's why I recognize it in the lives of others so swiftly; believe me, I have all the lines memorized. Please do not mistake my ready admittance for pride. No, discussing my past rebellions pains me. It angers me. What right do I have to treat love, life, and people so flippantly? What exception do I possess that exempts me from God's standards of integrity? None. None whatsoever. I am guilty of toying with hearts, created and cherished by God. I am guilty of vandalism. I am guilty of tempting others into my games, leading hearts away from their Creator. I am guilty of theft. When I fold, when I disappear as the game comes to an end, I leave others crushed, hurt, and bleeding.

Life is anything but a game. Boys' hearts are so much more than a toy. They themselves are worth more than what your silly flirtation demeans them to be. Consider the earlier post, "Your Self-Worth"; what right do you have to play with something that God created, died for, and loves so dearly? Consider another one: "The Importance of Being Real"; what right do you have to cheapen your own ability of love and influence by playing games? None. None whatsoever. Life is not a game. This battle for purity is anything but surreal. Hearts are at stake. Your integrity, your character, and your own purity demand that you rise to their standards. Your Creator, your God demands that you hold yourself accountable as a princess and as a warrioress. The battle for your bodies, hearts, and minds will not cease as you play petty games. Pretending will not offer an escape from reality. And folding from one round only to enter into another will not save you from the consequences of toying with God and His creations. He will protect what He has made; He will fortify what He loves; He will honor His promise of vengeance. Do not set your sword against God or your stakes against His. To you, life may be a game, but to Him, life is a matter of love -- and love is a matter worthy of either life or death.

Remember that you are not bound to the circumstances or the games you create. Break the rules. Let yourself be caught; do not be afraid of exposure. Stick to your guns, hold fast to integrity, cling to honesty and purity, and know that Jesus will come to your rescue. He cherishes your heart. He will stop at nothing to protect it, even from yourself, even from your silly games. So, gear up for battle with confidence, but with reverence. The fight is real and your very life is at stake.