This Battle Belongs to the Lord
When young David faced Goliath in that valley, he was up against a trained killer that wanted nothing less than to kill and dismember the pretty-boy coming at him with sticks and stones. It was a mismatch if there ever was one. Rocky Balboa vs. Steve Urkel. But David knew something his supersized opponent didn’t . . . the battle was not his, not Goliath’s, not the Israelites’, not the Philistines’. The battle was the Lord’s.
I’m finding out that cancer is a battle. And one I can’t win on my own. I keep thinking that there is this thing inside me and it wants to kill me. I look ahead at the next year full of radiation and chemotherapy and sugery and an ileostomy bag and weeks and weeks of recovery time and I feel overwhelmed. I see Goliath in all his grotesque glory hovering over me with his tree-sized sword and SUV-sized shield laughing at me, taunting me. And then the fatigue and weariness hit. Physically, mentally, emotionally, and yes, even spiritually. My knees waver and knock and I begin to lower my slingshot and cower in fear. I even notice the vultures carving circles in the sky above me . . .
Hold on there, don’t condemn me just yet. The best is yet to come.
. . . and then I hear them, the voices. Hundreds, heck, I don’t know, maybe thousands of people praying and encouraging and urging me onward. Cheering me forward. Strengthening me. And there is one voice that rises above them all, a deep, thunderous yet soothing voice that caresses my soul and lifts my spirit from the miry clay, as the psalmist put it. It’s the voice of my Lord, my Savior, my Friend, my Daddy, assuring me that He is with me, right beside me, holding my hand.
And suddenly the giant doesn’t look so big anymore. In comparison to my Dad, he’s just an ant and I can proudly and confidently say, “My Dad will beat you silly.” Because then I realize–and oh the joy of the realization–that this battle is not mine at all . . . this battle belongs to the Lord (1 Samuel 17:47)!