IT IS A BATTLE
A young pilot in the RAF.(Royal
Air Force, England).wrote
just before he went down in 1940."The
universe is so vast and so ageless that the life of one man can only be
justified by the measure of his sacrifice".
Will you fight for her? That's
the question Emmanuel
asked me many years ago, right before our tenth anniversary, right at the
time I was wondering what had happened to the woman I married.
You're on the fence, John,
he said.(how
God talks to us). Get in or get out.
I knew what he was saying—stop being a nice guy and act like a warrior.
Play the man. I brought flowers, took her to dinner and began to move back
toward her in my heart. But I knew there was more. That night, before we
went to bed, I prayed for Stasi in a way I'd never prayed for her before.
Out loud, before all
the heavenly hosts, I stepped between her and the forces of darkness
that had been coming against her:.2Corinthians
10:4,5; Ephesians 6:12. Honestly,
I didn't really know what I was doing, only that I needed to take on the
dragon. All hell broke loose. Everything we've learned about spiritual
warfare.(2Corinthians
10:3,4).began
that night. And you know what happened? Stasi got free. The tower of her
depression
gave way as I began to truly fight for her.
And it's not just once, but
again and again over time. That's where the myth really stumps us.
Some men are willing to go in once, twice, even three times. But a warrior
is in this for good. Oswald Chambers notes."God
spilt the life of his son that the world might be saved":.John
3:16,17. Are we prepared to spill out our lives?".John
15:13.
A man named Daniel is in
the midst of a very hard, very unpromising battle for his wife. It's been
years now without much progress and without much hope. Sitting in a restaurant
the other night, tears in his eyes, this is what he said to me, "I'm not
going anywhere. This is my place in the battle. This is the hill that I
will die on". He has reached a point that we all must come to, sooner or
later, when it's no longer about winning or losing. His wife may respond
and she may not. That's really no longer the issue. Why?
The question is simply this: What kind of man do you want to be? Maximus?
Wallace? Or Judah?
As I write this chapter,
Stasi and I have just returned from a friend's wedding. It was the best
wedding ceremony either of us have ever been to; a wonderful, romantic,
holy
affair. The groom was young and strong and valiant. The bride was seductively
beautiful, which is what made it so excruciating
for me. Oh to start over again, to do it all over the right way, marry
as a young man knowing what I know now. I could have loved Stasi so much
better; she could have loved me so much better as well. We've learned every
lesson the hard way over our eighteen years. Any wisdom contained in these
pages was paid for ... dearly. On top of that Stasi and I were in a difficult
place over the weekend; that was the campfire. Satan
saw his opportunity and turned it into a bonfire without even one word
between us. By the time we got to the reception, I didn't want to dance
with her. I didn't even want to be in the same room. All the hurt and disappointment
of the years—hers and mine—seemed to be the only thing that was ever true
about our marriage.
It wasn't until later that
I heard Stasis side of the script, but here is how the two fit together.
Stasi: He's disappointed in me. No wonder why. Look at all these beautiful
women. I feel fat and ugly. Me: I'm so tired of battling for our marriage.
How I wish we could start over. It wouldn't be that hard, you know. There
are other options. Look at all these beautiful women. On and on it came,
like a wave overwhelming the shore. Sitting at the table with a group of
our friends, I felt I was going to suffocate; I had to get out of there,
get some fresh air. Truth be told, when I left the reception I had no intention
of going back. Either I'd wind up in a bar somewhere or back in our room
watching TV. Thankfully, I found a small library off to the side of the
reception hall; alone in that sanctuary I wrestled with all I was feeling
for what seemed like an hour.(It
was probably twenty minutes).
I grabbed a book but could not read; I tried to pray but did not want to.
Finally, some words began to arise from my heart: Emmanuel, come and rescue
me. I know what's going on, I know this is assault. But right now it all
feels so true. Emmanuel, deliver me. Get me out from under this waterfall.
Speak to me; rescue my heart before I do something stupid. Deliver
me, Lord.
Slowly, almost
imperceptibly,
the wave began to lift. My thoughts and emotions quieted down to a more
normal size. Clarity was returning. The campfire was just a campfire again.
Emmanuel, you know the pain and disappointment in my heart. What would
you have me do? The bar was no longer an option, but I was still planning
to just go straight to my room for the rest of the night. I want you to
go back in there and ask your wife to dance. I knew he was right; I knew
that somewhere down deep inside that's what my true heart would want to
do. But the desire still seemed so far away. I lingered for five more minutes,
hoping he had another option for me. He remained silent, but the assault
was over and the bonfire was only embers. Once more I knew the man I wanted
to be. I went back to the reception and asked Stasi to dance. For the next
two hours we had one of the best evenings we've had in a long time. We
nearly lost to the Evil One. Instead, it will go down as a memory we'll
share with our friends for a long, long time.
CLOSE
Stasi has given me a number
of wonderful presents over the years, but last Christmas was unforgettable.
We'd finished with the feeding frenzy the boys call unwrapping presents.
Stasi slipped out of the room with the words "Close your eyes ... I have
a surprise for you". After a good deal of rustling and whispers, she told
me I could look. Before me was a long rectangular box on the family room
floor. "Open it" she said. I removed the bow and lifted the lid. Inside
was a full-size claymore, a Scottish broadsword exactly like the one used
by William Wallace. I had been looking for one for several months, but
Stasi did not know that. It was not on my Christmas list. She had done
this out of the vision of her own heart, as a way of thanking me for fighting
for her.
Here is what her note read:
"Because you are a Braveheart,
fighting for the hearts of so many people . . . and especially for mine.
Thanks to you I know a freedom I never thought was possible. Merry Christmas."
From the book Wild
at Heart, by John Eldredge, Thomas
Nelson Publishers
Available from Christian
Book Stores
