The Spirit Speaks

It’s hot. humid. The bright light of anticipation leading up to the longest day of the year has come and gone and minute by minute, the length of each new day descends. Summer is growing short.

Mine thus far has been just…eh. The routine less demanding, but I’m still in charge of ensuring the Life of Dougan is mostly fun, mostly fulfilling, mostly fraught-free. It’s what I do. As of yet, I’ve had no dreamy getaway, no weekly happy hours, not even a family vacation.

Just…eh.

To mix it up, I took my eldest on a college tour. Truth is, he was given a ticket to a concert in Austin and tried to convince me he could drive the 12 hours down,12 hours back, attend the show, and be home in under 30. I’d barely notice he was gone. Riiight. Since facilitating a mostly fulfilling life is in my job description, I suggested I join him. Pay for the gas even. Pal up. As long as we visited a college or two en route.   #classicmom-sneak

It was fun. Enlightening. Provided opportunity for thoughtful conversation. But in all my giddy delight, I took a wrong turn and ended up in the heart of downtown Ft. Worth at 5:30 on a Thursday night. Such a lovely time to visit, too. Block after sultry block of construction zones and brake lights took the wind right out of our conversation sails. I tried hard not to self-loathe while my seventeener took a snooze.

Around Guthrie Oklahoma, it was his turn to drive. Somehow I had managed to not hear news for 3 days, so it was hard to piece together the tragic events leaving many on social media heartbroken and confused. Before I could pull up video, I received a text asking if we had made it through Dallas okay. Why, I wondered? Well, we all know why by now.

But let me back up a few hundred miles.

My youngest son tried out for club soccer while I was away and made the team. Hooray. The coach called me, on the road, to say I needed to get him in for a jersey fitting before closing time. I’m good, but not teleport good. So I called the hubs. The call, for a pattern of reasons, did not go well. So in the middle of belting out Bon Jovi’s It’s My Life, (true story) I took a call, then made a call, that changed the course of my traveling mood. Such a good song, too.

Really bad thoughts replaced my singalong to the setting sun. Almost instantaneously. Maybe it was the lost hour sitting in traffic catching up with me, or the relentless humidity wearing me down, or the underlying discontent with this particular summer. I don’t know, but fury came with a vengeance.

It was a disproportionate response. I couldn’t seem to calm the rising tide, so I just let it bubble up and spill throughout my mind, leading me down a darkened road.

I knew to heed the warning signs:

Danger ahead. Disruption certain. Break downs rampant.

I proceeded anyway.

We did not go through Dallas that night, but we went through Dallas alright.

About the time of sniper’s spree, the shots were firing all through me. The spiritual forces of darkness prevailed on me while I rolled down the highway sputtering rage. I allowed my thoughts free reign and they betrayed my feckless heart; my utter lack of self control when squeezed from every side.

My recklessness went unreported, but it was grievous nonetheless.

Back at home I watched the news, ached for our torn nation. It wasn’t until I sat quieted in church that it dawned on me…my outburst of anger came roughly the same time evil unleashed itself on Dallas.

Oh the lost art of being quiet.

In quietness we hear the voice that’s always speaking clarity into these treacherous times. It’s just that it undoubtedly speaks first of all to us, and our own hidden heart. It shines a light on blind spots, breathes life into the death traps, gives grace to grief we’ve grown accustomed to.

But sometimes we would rather bump along, taking what the darkness throws our way, than risk exposure in the quiet light . That was me on Thursday night.

On Sunday I was finally still, and heard the Spirit say to me…

All is not as it appears; there is an unseen war that rages on and there are better weapons to take up.  Lay down the petty (used on most offenses), take up the faith-shield (fashioned for the blindsides). 

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the powers of this dark world and the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Ephesians 6:12

In light of all the tragic darkness that’s unveiling almost daily, this ho-hum summer is a respite. The world and all our smaller spheres need warriors ready – not worn down, stressed-out, easily offended mercenaries.

Take courage. Nothing is just…eh.