Hiding in Foxholes

When I look out upon the world I often can't help but see a barren landscape. Looking at the people I come across in my daily life I often see the a pain they can't shake, wounds that won't heal, and troubles that simply won't pass. I see it in the way they treat the people they don't know and then how they behave with those they do. In the defenses, the paranoia, and the through the facades they build I can see the scars of a life spent fighting off the vultures.

This is a part of life in what I call "no man's land" that I never have gotten use to. The pain that floats just beneath the surface is almost palpable. When I'm around a person with especially raw wounds the pain almost has that wretched scent of gangrene. It deteriorates the very nature of it's victim. It strips away the humanity and leaves nothing for its victim to replace their loss with. In the end they are more zombie like than anything else... barely alive and yet still going through the motions.

This is what the enemy does to people. It is a tormentor that knows no limits to what agony it can inflict upon it's victims. By delivering blows that the prey can't heal on their own the enemy makes wounded animals out of human beings. They know the pain is real, they can feel the suffering in their minds and bodies, yet the wounds can't be seen. This is the slow death the enemy offers to people.

Day after day I find my foxhole to duck into. Peeking over the filthy edge all I see is a broken world all around me. The dead and dieing walk all around me. Their numbed faces fake smiles as they pass one another. But the smell of infected wounds can't be hidden. And I should know, I have plenty of my own.

Setting in my foxhole I know I have a secret. Tucked under my shirt I have a cure for my own disease. From the pages of this weapon I find strength to endure. From these living words my wounds are healed. Setting in my foxhole I know I have something I can't hide.

Looking over the ledge of my foxhole I can see in the distance another head pop up over the ledge of a distant foxhole. Through the crowd of wounded souls I can spot another person just like me peeking out over this barren wasteland. And in an instant we both duck back down and out of sight.

I look over the ledge once again, this time in another direction. Again I see another person just like me peering out from yet another foxhole. And once more we make eye contact just before ducking back down and out of sight.

Day after day I have hid in my foxhole. I have watched wounded souls wander past without giving it much thought. I all honesty it just hurt to much to look at them. But now I realize I'm not alone. Looking out of my foxhole I can see the field around me is dotted with distant foxholes. Like gophers we peek out of our little comfort zones. Day after day I had hid in my foxhole... never noticing all of them.

I know I have a weapon, a tool, a cure... and suddenly I realize so do all of those other ones just like me... hid in their foxholes. So now all I can see is a world full of people just like me. Hiding in their foxholes they hold onto the living word as they duck down and out of sight. But why? Why do we hide in our foxholes?

Now when I look out upon this world I see a landscape dotted with foxholes. And all I can think of is what it would be like if we came up... over the top... into sight... word in hand... ready to fight.

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."

Joshua 1:9

Broken Arrow

"The J-hovah shall cause your enemies that rise up against you to be smitten before your face; they shall come out against you one way, and flee before you seven ways."

~ Deuteronomy 28:7

The Blessing of Obedience

I was once told by a very close friend that I'm a lot like a dog on a short leash, just tugging at the slack waiting for the M-ster to release H-s grip. At first that sounded rather nice. But the more I thought about it... well that was when the truth of the matter came to the surface. 

A hunting dog is eager to please the hunter. It wants more than anything to be able to let out that howl that signals his master to the object of his owner's fixation. Yet in this sense of duty there comes a time when even the best dog trees the wrong prey or corners an animal bigger and meaner than he alone can hold. While the dog wants to be obedient, even the best intentions can lead the dog astray. 

That is why I had to take a moment and think about what it really meant to be that hound tugging and jerking at my leash. Sure it was nice to think of myself as all those things that seem masculine and powerful... tenacity, bravery, fierce, bold, dedicated... It was another thing to have to think of myself as the less pleasant aspects of being that same animal... immature, over eager, rebellious, and at times... disobedient.

Once the dog's leash is dropped the hound takes up the hunt. Like a lightning bolt, the dog springs forth with his nose to the air and his muscles fueled by anticipation. That is what it often feels like when we set out to fulfill the commandments our G-d has laid out of us. We are so eager to fulfill our task... our mission... our job. 

Whenever and wherever the faithful set out to take to the field so as to please their master another beast rises up to meet them. The enemy of our G-d claims the soil, the land, and all that dwells upon it. It is only natural to them that they should defend it, and defend it mercilessly. But when we set out like the hound to the hunt we are often not even thinking about this. Instead we take off almost blind to the reality of what we are doing. We don't see the battle, we don't think about the war... we just want to complete our task.

In the field we meet them. Upon the field we are engaged in ways that we never expect. We are turned from the hounds of the hunt to the dogs of war. And in an instant we find ourselves surrounded. For the faithful this is a reality that is often overlooked by the young, the immature, the bold and brazen followers of a faith they have not yet fully come to understand. 

It is in this moment that we make decisions that will either win or lose the day. It is in the first moments of battle that we either decide to take up the role of conquers or simply hold the line. Once this moment has passed we can no longer decide to disengage or break off the chase. Once we have taken to the field there is no retreat. 

One decision seems to prevail more often than not. This is the decision to muscle our way through the fight. We take up our own shields and rely upon our own muscle. We don't realize that the enemy is a liar and hides from us the reality of what we are up against. When we advance upon our own might we are lured into a fight we alone can not win. By digging our own foxholes we often dig our own graves. 

We were never meant to fight alone. This decision is disobedient. It is a decision to chase after a scent that we were not sent out after. It is the lure that leads us astray. It is the best defense the enemy has.

"The J-hovah shall cause you to be smitten before your enemies; you shall go out one way against them, and flee seven ways before them; and shall be removed into all the kingdoms of the earth."

~ Deuteronomy 28:25

The Results of Disobedience 

Cut off, surrounded... 

In the Torah we are reminded that we do not fight against flesh and blood. We are told that we fight against the spirit of evil and the presence of darkness all around us. We are meant to be light onto the world. So when we attempt to take the L-ght out into the darkness it would seem natural that the darkness would flee before It. However when we go out unprepared or for our own glory we often find that the darkness is ready to fight back. 

But there is a way to find our way back to the L-ght without showing our backs to the enemy. There is a way off the battle field.

The immature dog will give a call that he has cornered his prey when he has not. The trained hunter will not respond till the dog has completed his job however. There is a difference in our tone when we are out doing the task G-d has given us and when we are simply pretending. Yet when the dog gives out a call for help, when the dog finally admits that he isn't able to fight the beast he has encountered, the M-ster always comes running. 

Once engaged the enemy will not relent. It is a merciless foe that knows our weaknesses and exploits them at every opportunity. The amazing part is just how long we are willing to fight these attacks all by ourselves before we are finally pushed to the point where we simply surrender. 

Some hunting dogs will give the call for help sooner than others. Some will come face to face with the meanest lion and still not back down. And tragically, some will never call for help.

All we have to do when we find ourselves here is fall down and surrender. Not to our enemy. Not the evil we have encountered. But to the Creat-r of life, the M-ster that sent us out to the field to work. We simply have to be prepared to admit when we are out matched and especially when we have gone off course. It is in these moments that G-d wants to teach us things we may never have learned without the fight... without the thrill of the hunt. After all, G-d pursues us far more eagerly as we pursue H-m. And He never wants us to be left upon the field alone and cut off. 

The greatest sense of obedience is the willingness to admit that we need H-m. We were always meant to need the warmth of the love our Abba bears for us. Even when the leash feels like it has been dropped, even when the thrill of the hunt has passed, we will always need H-s guidance... H-s mercy... H-s love.