A desert. A test.

You haven't heard from me in awhile. That's because I've been struggling. It's not as fun to check in when all is not well. And the last week or so, I've been wrestling with beliefs I've held and the one's I feel are being proffered to me in a sometimes-intense spiritual battle.

Before I left on this trip, I believe God told me that I would soon encounter a time of testing similar to Jesus' temptation in the desert. Previously God had been hammering home his love, acceptance, and providence every day in powerful morning encounters with the palpable presence of God. One day he told me this new way of thinking and believing would need to be tested. He laid out 3 major lines the Enemy would use to test my faith:

1. That productivity determines my worth.
2. That God will not care for my heart.
3. That I'll be able to make my own way in life and provide for my own needs.

Ironically the battle began... in the desert. After leaving Las Vegas, I felt like we had acquired another passenger, a spiritual monkey on my back, telling me with unusual ferocity that I should live for my own desires. It told me that I deserve to have my needs and wants met and that if they went unmet, I had every right to carry resentment against God. It warned that God would not care for my heart and that I would end up disappointed and disillusioned if I didn't take matters into my own hands.

In San Fransisco a tremendous apathy took hold of me. For several days I stayed home and watched TV. I didn't go explore the city or the ocean. I didn't try to make appointments. People didn't seem that interested in our ministry and I felt too tired to try. In a sense, I was okay with taking a few days to rest. But in another sense, I rested poorly: not with intentionality but with impulsiveness. Underneath was a gnawing guilt: I was not productive. I had wasted my time. I imagined God getting impatient with me and passing His Spirit on to a more productive person.

Last night in Olympia I had a dream. In my dream, I lived in a great empty mansion. In the upstairs master suite, a sharp-looking old man sat in a chair, ruling over the house. He turned and looked at me critically and said things I knew to be untrue, unbiblical: "God won't care for you. You'll never raise your support. Who do you think you are going on this trip? What did you expect anyway?" I knew I had only to tell him to leave. It was my house after all. But instead, I kept silent out of fear and contemplated ways to outsmart and subvert him. Before long, he had invited all his friends to the house who crowded around me, telling me lies. If you've ever read, "Hinds Feet in High Places", there's a scene in that book that perfectly illustrates that scenario.

This morning, I closed my eyes and the scene came rushing back. This time I told the old man to get out of my house, to get out my mind. (Maybe that seems schizophrenic... I call it spiritual warfare.) This time, a blinding white light I knew to be Jesus consumed the house, the man, everything. He seemed to say to me in essence, "Your enemy is strong but I am so much stronger. You have only to call on me."

That was was it. There have been other encounters... low blows and cheater tactics... and every time, it has been important for me to consciously reject the messages being offered to me as well as to reject the one bringing the message. It has been helpful to reach out to a few close friends for prayer. Ultimately, I believe that through testing, those beliefs... that Jesus truly loves me and will care for me... will be much more firmly-rooted in deep in my worldview. But I don't believe the testing is over.  Not yet.