"LADIES & GENTLEMEN...(gentlemen, gentlemen, gentlemen...)
WELCOME...(welcome, welcome, welcome...)
TO THE FIGHT (Fight, fight, fight...)
OF THE CENTURY!!!!!"
I took a boxing class my senior year of college (my 5th year at KSU.) It wasn't because I aspired to be in the ring, listening to the announcer's echo of my mad skills as I faced my opponent. Nor did I plan to learn how to properly punch people who annoyed me. I took the boxing class because I was a 5th year senior and it was an excellent alternative to any "real" class I might have to take... like biochemistry. Yeah, no thanks.
My boxing class was a ton of fun-- our teacher was terrifyingly awesome... She threatened us that if we used the skills from class to start any kind of fights outside of class, that we would flunk. She also said she WOULD find out because her husband was a cop. I don't know if she could legally do that, but I sure as heck wasn't going to find out.
You probably don't have to take a boxing class to know the number one rule of the class: Fight clean. We have all heard the phrase about "hitting below the belt." Yeah, that definitely wasn't allowed. But isn't it funny how when Satan fights with us, he doesn't follow that rule. He will hit wherever he can, usually where it hurts the most. He fights DIRTY.
Let me explain.
I was having a conversation with a dear friend and mentor of mine a couple day ago. She was telling me about the weekend she had-- it was literally a weekend from Hell. Satan was doing a number on her life. I chimed in with my own experience, and she reminded me that the more successful we become in glorifying God and sharing His message, the harder Satan is going to fight us.
Here's the kicker-- The Enemy isn't going to attack us in our strongest spots. I would say that it is pretty unlikely that Satan is going to show up in my grill when I am elbow deep in ministry at church, surrounded by other spiritual leaders. I am strong there. Close to God. Rather, he is going to attack my soft spots, my weak spots, probably when I am not looking.
Last week, Satan decided to try and attack my relationship with my husband. But Brandon and I came together in the name of Christ and plowed through it, which brought us closer than ever. So this morning, when I was feeling good, emotionally and spiritually, he tried a new tactic and The Enemy punched me in the gut when I was least expecting it.
So, I'm a woman. (Hopefully you were aware of that.) As a woman, I am conscious of my physical self-- I try to work out and eat healthy and monitor my weight. I hadn't stepped on the scale in several days (I do an accountability check about once a week-- don't worry, I'm not obsessed with the numbers) so decided this morning was a good time to check it out and make sure I wasn't way off.
I stepped on the scale first thing this morning, looked down... and smiled. I thought "Ok, that works." Not terrible. I will take it. I walk away, go to my bathroom, pull my hair into a pony tail. For some stupid reason (Satan?) I decide to go back in an weigh myself again, with a few less articles of clothing (I don't want to get graphic here, but I don't know many woman that like to get a "home weight" wearing a lot of clothes.)
|I could have worn this whole pack and|
it wouldn't have added 4 lbs to the scale...
I go back to the other room, step back on the scale literally 3 minutes later... and I am 4 pounds heavier.
I about flipped out. I stepped off... Stepped back on. The same number, 4 pounds more than the very first. Granted, I was not a physics superstar, but I am relatively certain that my pink elastic ponytail holder did not weigh four pounds.
I try a third time, and it says the same undesirable number AGAIN. Right when I am on the verge of grabbing that scale to chuck it out of the nearest second-story window while yelling words unsuitable for a Christian blog, I have this weird flash of a vision in my mind. I felt the devil on my back. I saw myself with the weight of Satan ON me, pulling, weighing me down.
I'm not sure if anyone knows what weight class Satan is in... but this morning in my bathroom, he weighed four pounds. I laughed at the realization and said, "Ok God... you fight this one for me."
Here's the best part: I went jean shopping today and fit into a size of jeans that I had never fit into during my adult life. AND when I got to the car, I saw a rainbow in the distance (which I take a sign from God... it's in the Bible.) I gave my day to God. He fought the battle for me. And made me a winner. Satan=KO (knocked out.)
Remember that Satan doesn't wait for the "perfect" or fair conditions to fight, with both of you in the ring, God on your side, hands wrapped, paying attention, warmed up, and gloves on. He doesn't wait in his corner for the bell to ring... He comes after us, at any given moment. Fortunately, God has our back. So sure, we might end up with a black eye or the wind knocked out of us from a shot below the belt by The Enemy, but as long as we ask God to help us fight our battles, we will ALWAYS win.
Oh, one more thing. You know how at the end of the day people naturally weigh more than they did in the morning? Well, I stepped back on the scale tonight, after drinking over 80 oz of water today and eating 3 meals and 2 snacks... and I weighed LESS than my four pound up number this morning.
Take that Satan. The gloves are coming off. I'm fighting back.
Cross, jab, hook, uppercut,
"Contend, O LORD, with those who contend with me; fight against those who fight against me. Take up shield and buckler; arise and come to my aid. Brandish spear and javelin against those who pursue me. Say to my soul, “I am your salvation.” --Psalm 35:1-3