The Present War

By David Hobbs

9/19/2010

The war rages all around us. But how many Christians have eyes to see and understand the battles we find ourselves in? The closer I get to Jesus, the more intense the warfare becomes. I am reminded of Scriptures like Psalm 50:3—“Our God comes and will not be silent; a fire devours before him, and around him a tempest rages.” Being close to Jesus (or desiring to be close as in my case) is not easy. Consider Mt. 8:23—“Then [Jesus] got into the boat and his disciples followed him. 24 Without warning, a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat…. ‘Lord, save us! We’re going to drown.’”

Our church had been planning a prophetic worship conference for a year. We had been praying into it, and anticipating in faith that it would take us to a higher spiritual level. We didn’t have the money readily at hand to bring in the 5 prophetic worshippers/singers/musicians we wanted. Along with others, I participated in a dinner theatre and many other ways to raise money. We prayed, went on 3 day fasts, and invited people to come.

Now at last the week was here. It was a tough week, as it always is approaching a high spiritual time. I was doing a painting job with many difficult aspects to it. The temperatures were around 100 degrees. I had a deadline. It was hard getting the help I needed. It was very stressful time. I dropped off my former foster son “Jake” Thursday morning to work on the job while I took the hour drive to Sacramento to pray in the Capital as usual. The prayer time was totally dry. I had nothing to contribute, couldn’t focus, and kept falling asleep.

Upon my return to the job site I found Jake sprawled out on the front porch. He said he’d fallen off the top on an 8 ft. stepladder and hurt his back. Jake was always taking chances, and many times had come sliding off of roofs or had other spectacular experiences, always seeming to escape serious consequences.

Everywhere I looked there were brushes, rollers, and buckets of paint drying out in the sweltering sun. My other son Dan had been supposed to drop off an airless at the job which I needed to paint a deck and some doors. But it wasn’t there. I called Dan. He was across town ½ hour away but agreed to bring the airless to me. But as he was on his way, Jake suddenly informed me that in his fall he had spilled the paint and there was none left. The paint store was in Dan’s direction but now it was too late to get him to pick up more on his way over. I would have to not only take Jake home, but now make the trip across town myself to get more paint, and then try to finish the job without Jake’s help.

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I lost it completely and started yelling at Jake, who started yelling back at me. I truly “cracked.” I was in a rage so intense that it lasted the rest of the day (Thurs).

Friday came and I was still unsettled. Though I had blown it, God was still faithful. Out of nowhere, He sent two people, including Dan (who was working on his own job), to help me finish my job. But it was as if my spiritual being was turned inside out. The rage and angst had left me exhausted, the heat had left me dehydrated, and the conference started that evening.

I went, but I was so out of sorts I could hardly enter in. I did the best I could by faith, but my innards were still a jumbled mass.

The next session was Sat. morning. I had gotten as much sleep as I could, but I was still exhausted and still dehydrated. I was also being attacked in my mind, both for my own failings and the conference itself was being disparaged. I couldn’t seem to get my spiritual legs under me. I was off balance and unable to function, like a fighter reeling against the ropes. There were workshops that afternoon, but I stayed home and slept, hoping to regain my strength.

Saturday night was another battle. I went through the motions but just couldn’t “get into gear.”

Sunday morning I was still exhausted, both physically but increasingly spiritually. My wife went off to the Sunday morning session while I stayed home to sleep, thereby missing what people agreed later was the best meeting of the conference. Sunday afternoon I napped some more--there seemed to be no way to catch up on my sleep deficit. Now there was only one meeting left; it was all going by me like a train going by the station. I was used to experiencing spiritual warfare leading up to an event. But it had been my experience that once the event started, the warfare ceased and the Lord took over. Now for the first time the warfare was lasting right through the whole conference.

When the last meeting started Sunday night, I was so overwhelmed I was unable to speak or sing and too tired to stand. There were only two things I could do—I could tap my feet along to the music and raise my hands. So the meeting chugged along with me lost in the crowd, tapping my feet and raising my hands in mute appeal to heaven. But that was enough!
As the worship progressed I began to be able to make some sounds; then I could sing along; finally I could stand. By the end of the meeting I was totally restored to normal, like the whole thing had never happened!

So where did that leave me? I had missed virtually the entire conference, but come out on top at the end. It seemed to be kind of a spiritual draw, though the Bible does put importance on the end of a matter more than the beginning or middle (“he that endures to the end shall be saved.”)

All I know for sure is that the warfare is intense, which means we’re getting close to Jesus! It’s no time to back down or give up. He who is in us is greater than he who is in the world. Praise the Lord!