When the fight comes to you (and you don't feel like fighting)
I've never felt like David. Everyone has always compared me to the little runt who took down Goliath, from colicky baby to argumentative teenager hell bent on seeing justice done, at home and around me. Every Friday night for some eighteen years it was beaten into me, with my father standing over me pronouncing his mission for me... "May you be like David."
I've never felt like David. I don't even have his name, but instead my first name is the same as his dearest beloved. Jonathan, "whom I have loved." I've never felt like a warrior, holding up Goliath's dripping head and roaring a battle cry.
Somebody told me last night that they see me becoming kinder, gentler. Not the warrior I used to be. Why'd he think that was just now me? That I was on a quest for self improvement and the jewels I stumbled on in the cave were labeled "being nice to people?"
And the honest answer? Because most of my life he's seen me fighting. Me, not a warrior, not a David, fighting. Because the war has always been on my doorstep. No matter how many battles, no matter how many Goliaths hang mounted on my wall, the fight keeps coming back to me.
At least that's the way it felt.
But now it's peace, and I haven't lifted a sword or my words in quite a while and I've been wondering where all the bad guys went. Why am I thriving, and when did I win this war?
It hit me halfway down the road in the dark this morning that it's because I stopped inviting the enemy to dinner. I stopped asking if I could stop by and see them, I stopped letting them tell me that who I am is revolting and heinous. I stopped letting them come back to fight. That's when the peace came.
When survival was more important than conforming to the mandates of a broken mindset that says that if someone is older than you, holier than you, or gave birth to you that there is a duty to listen to them, no matter how toxic or disastrous or mentally decayed, the battle disappeared. I realized that those who saw the warrior in me were part of the fight that was bringing me to my knees.
Honestly, David was the same way. He didn't want to be a warrior, he wanted to be a shepherd. But when called to stand up and fight, he didn't just kill Goliath. He kept allowing the pitfalls, battles, and struggles to sneak up on him. They looked like his own children, a woman bathing on the roof, and his favorite general. He didn't want to be David the fighter, but he let the war move in with him.
So here's the bottom line: is your battle inescapable? Whatever it is, does it seem you keep getting beaten down and no matter where you run it follows?
Stop allowing it in your life. Don't run, disengage, and make the world know that you are not here to fight, you're on this earth to grow. Nothing will defeat them more astoundingly.
Imagine it. Growing, thriving, blooming. No more fights. It can happen, if you stop inviting them back.
I've never felt like David. I don't even have his name, but instead my first name is the same as his dearest beloved. Jonathan, "whom I have loved." I've never felt like a warrior, holding up Goliath's dripping head and roaring a battle cry.
Somebody told me last night that they see me becoming kinder, gentler. Not the warrior I used to be. Why'd he think that was just now me? That I was on a quest for self improvement and the jewels I stumbled on in the cave were labeled "being nice to people?"
And the honest answer? Because most of my life he's seen me fighting. Me, not a warrior, not a David, fighting. Because the war has always been on my doorstep. No matter how many battles, no matter how many Goliaths hang mounted on my wall, the fight keeps coming back to me.
At least that's the way it felt.
But now it's peace, and I haven't lifted a sword or my words in quite a while and I've been wondering where all the bad guys went. Why am I thriving, and when did I win this war?
It hit me halfway down the road in the dark this morning that it's because I stopped inviting the enemy to dinner. I stopped asking if I could stop by and see them, I stopped letting them tell me that who I am is revolting and heinous. I stopped letting them come back to fight. That's when the peace came.
When survival was more important than conforming to the mandates of a broken mindset that says that if someone is older than you, holier than you, or gave birth to you that there is a duty to listen to them, no matter how toxic or disastrous or mentally decayed, the battle disappeared. I realized that those who saw the warrior in me were part of the fight that was bringing me to my knees.
Honestly, David was the same way. He didn't want to be a warrior, he wanted to be a shepherd. But when called to stand up and fight, he didn't just kill Goliath. He kept allowing the pitfalls, battles, and struggles to sneak up on him. They looked like his own children, a woman bathing on the roof, and his favorite general. He didn't want to be David the fighter, but he let the war move in with him.
So here's the bottom line: is your battle inescapable? Whatever it is, does it seem you keep getting beaten down and no matter where you run it follows?
Stop allowing it in your life. Don't run, disengage, and make the world know that you are not here to fight, you're on this earth to grow. Nothing will defeat them more astoundingly.
Imagine it. Growing, thriving, blooming. No more fights. It can happen, if you stop inviting them back.
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