Do you hear them? They cut through the air. Do you see them? They fly so fast. They land with a dull thud on your wooden form. The part that has yet to be turned human. The pain draws your attention again and again away from the warmth of the living Spirit inside you and onto that stiff, cold puppet, that manipulated toy that used to be you. And those darts find their mark day after day. The lies. They have struck and you shudder.
But you are not without an answer.
So to the one drawn again and again to nasty habits—to that oh-so-delicious occupation of minimizing others’ difficulties and magnifying your own, to weighing your acquaintances on your scale of holiness, to believing your wisdom is beyond others. To those who do this or any unsavory habit, and then realize it and look around and see where they are, the mud again, the muck, the pigsty. “You pathetic failure!” the lies say. “You’ll never break these old habits.”
Answer with truth: Look up from this mud and past the pig farms and serfs’ cottages. Look over the rooftops of the tradesmen and beyond the stately edifices of the lords’ estates. See the palace beyond with its white spires and waving flags. Remember, you are a child of that King there. Get out of this pigsty and keep walking that way. He hasn’t disowned you because you’ve fallen into the mud again. Speak truth to those lies, “I am a child of God” (see Galatians 3:26). And although I now walk the streets where it’s easy to fall into mud puddles, one day I will live with the king in his castle.
To the one who is trying so hard to be good, to say the right thing at the right moment so that you won’t hurt others like they’ve hurt you. To the one who had parents who shamed them and is now determined not to repeat history. To the one trying to forgive her husband his costly errors that she herself can’t imagine ever doing. To the one wrapped up in worry about what she should choose or how she should spend her time. Hear the lie in your striving. “If you don’t get it right, you won’t be loved.”
Answer with truth: Step out from under that yoke. Look at that load, that mountain of bricks that you are trying to pull. Do you really think you’re strong enough? Have you forgotten your fellow yoke partner? You are pulling that load with the Son of God. In fact, he is pulling it all. You don’t have to. See! Your work quota will be met. Speak the truth to those lies, “I have already been made right and am loved even when I make mistakes” (see Jeremiah 31:3).
To the one who sees others in more prestigious jobs, who sees others as intelligent and beautiful, as more clever, as having nicer things and more trendy clothes, as younger with fewer pimples. Who sees others dining in nicer restaurants and buying new furniture and seeming to know so much about the world. To the one playing second fiddle, two steps behind, feeling inadequate at her job, who owns shabby things and has a simple mind, muddled and confused, who believes, “I have nothing and am no good!”
Answer with truth: Look here where God himself has placed you. See this pace at which you run. This is the speed God has set for you, not faster. Pay no attention to those passing you on the left and right. You aren’t running their race but yours. God has given you this work here. He has prepared it beforehand for you. It is his work, and no laborer of his is shabby or pathetic or worthless. Say it now, “I am his workmanship and the work I am doing is good” (see Ephesians 2:10).
To the one who wishes to be heard, craves to be known. Who never felt like her parents understood her and so is now seeking someone, anyone to say, “I get it.” Who opens her heart again and again to those who cannot understand and cannot answer her how she would like. Who hears it whispered in her ear after every failed relationship, “No one understands you. You’re not worth knowing.”
Answer with truth: Will you fault the other humans for not seeing into your heart? Will you cast them out of your life because they aren’t omniscient? They, like you, are a bumbling blind person, tripping and walking into walls in this dark cave. Do not push them away because they do not know the color of your eyes in this darkness nor the secret yearnings of your heart. Only one knows you like
that. Say his name aloud. “God sees and cares more than any human ever could” (see Psalm 139).
To the one who has been wronged, accused of doing the very thing she sees the accuser doing. To the Christian who wants to yell at the other churchgoers, “How can you say such critical, condemning things!” To the one listening to others speaking ill of each other. To the one tread on, stolen from, lied about, or misunderstood, who wants to interject and tell them how they are all wrong or to shout to the heavens, “No one is fixing this problem here! I have to do it!”
Answer with truth: Who is the doctor, and who is the patient? Do you know how to perform heart surgery? Do you even know the doctor’s diagnosis for the other patients? Do not go running down the hospital halls wielding a plastic scalpel or pushing your fellow brothers or sisters up against the walls. There is but one doctor who can cure us, and his work is slow and invisible. He knows every pain their weak hearts have caused, and he has ordered nature to ripple in effect with their ill choices. Fear not. He shall balance the scales of justice. But as for you, he has burned your record of errors in the eternal fire. So then, go humbly under his healing surgical knife as you remember, “God is the doctor and he is working on me too” (see 1 Peter 2:23).
To the one who feels unable to handle her children’s squabbles or her friends’ mood swings or her parents’ idiosyncrasies. Who feels like she’s drowning in tasks without enough hours in the day to complete everything. Who is afraid because her son must have four teeth pulled because of cavities or whose grandpa has been showing signs of dementia. Who doesn’t know what to do or how to do it. Who is believing, “I have to figure this out or else something will go terribly wrong!”
Answer with truth: Have you forgotten who is directing this play? Don’t you know that the author will resolve his own story? Are you the painter or the architect or the sculptor here? Who holds the world in the palm of his hands and tells the waves and winds when to rage? Who orchestrates the deeds of millions all across the planet? Who knows your troubles and how they will end? Who gives tasks and takes them away? If the answer is in your mind, let it be in your mouth also. “The Lord is my strength! He will take care of me” (see Psalm 28:7).
What use is it to say we believe in Jesus but we don’t believe what he says about us and himself? Answer the lies with truth, and those flaming darts will fall uselessly to the ground.
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