Author: <span>Christine Lindstrom</span>

Ephesians 6:12

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”

Sometimes it seems as though lockdown was when we were all sent to our corners, and now it’s time to come out swinging. We’re all revved up and bouncing on our toes and ready to let loose on any opponent that comes our way. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Watch out world, here we come. 

I wish that the lockdown had worked more like a time-out, where we all took some much-needed time to calm down and think about what we’ve done. As individuals, I’m sure there were many who did just that. But collectively, it seems like orders to stay at home worked more like a boxing ring corner than a time-out corner. 

I think social distancing has played a big role in this. When we aren’t spending time together in person, it’s so easy to reduce people to words on a screen. I confess that I am guilty of this lately. Friends of mine post things on Facebook that I disagree with, sometimes very strongly, and I reduce them to that opinion. Suddenly those people are the other side of an “us vs. them” divide in my head. When we are together in person, they are human beings who I care about, with fears and hopes and ups and downs, every bit as fragile and fallible and beautifully created in the image of God as I am. We can laugh and cry and pray together despite coming to different conclusions on some issues.Through the screen, I can be lured into forgetting their humanity and viewing them as caricatures. 

I am guilty – and I suspect that I am not alone.

Wired for Story

The world runs on stories, and this is by design. The Gospel is, after all, the greatest story ever told. Our hearts were meant to respond to stories so that we can enter into each other’s stories and ultimately into God’s redemptive story. It is why we love novels and movies. It is why children play imagination games. We are hard-wired for it. This is both a gift and a liability. 

Tremendous power and influence are at stake, depending on which stories we believe. So everyone from politicians and lobbyists to media outlets, from your pastor to your crazy uncle on Facebook – everyone has a story to tell and something to gain from you believing it. And every good story needs a villain. 

Have you ever read the children’s book The True Story of the 3 Little Pigs by A. Wolf? This clever picture book is the story of the Three Little Pigs from the perspective of the wolf, who is neither big nor bad according to his version of events. My daughter just read another story in which Little Red Riding Hood was actually on a mission to betray Snow White, and the grandmother she’s visiting is the evil queen. In this version, the wolf is the hero who has been sent to defeat their plot. It’s popular lately to re-imagine fairy tales, which typically have very black and white heroes and villains, in order to see both sides of the story. Perhaps the same technique could be applied to our real-life stories that involve nuanced human beings. 

Who is the Villain?

This verse from Ephesians has been familiar to me since childhood, when I went to Vacation Bible School with a knights and castles theme and learned about the armor of God. We learned each piece of the armor and spent craft time making a full suit out of cardboard and aluminum foil. I knew the verse so well that I missed the point entirely – until a few years ago when a wise pastor pointed it out in a sermon. 

It’s so simple, yet life-changingly profound – and it was right there at the beginning the whole time:
“Our struggle is not against flesh and blood…”  – so if it has flesh and blood it is NOT my enemy. 

That politician you can’t stand? Not your enemy.

The police officer who killed George Floyd? Not your enemy.

The protest group occupying Capitol Hill in Seattle? Not your enemy.

The researchers developing vaccines for covid-19? The people helping to fund that work? The people at the grocery store who refuse to wear masks? Immigrants and refugees? Active members of the KKK? 

NOT. YOUR. ENEMY. 

This also means that this armor of God that is described in Ephesians 6:14-18 is not intended for use against other human beings. Most of it is for defense anyway. But the word of God, which is described as the sword of the Spirit (v. 17), was never meant for us to use to attack people. If it has flesh and blood, it is not my enemy.

There is a real enemy operating on a whole other plane, and his purposes are well-served if he can get us distracted from the true struggle by leading us to believe a story in which other people – especially other Christians – are our enemies. If he can get us fighting each other about temporary things, he can carry on with his true purposes to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10) without much resistance. Jesus was clear on this: 

Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. (Matthew 10:28; see also Luke 12:4)

The next time you feel yourself being drawn into a battle, pause and consider the enemy. Does it have flesh and blood? If it does, then this is the wrong enemy and the wrong battle. This is the diversion. Ready your armor and be prepared to engage the true enemy.

Proverbs 25:28

“Like a city whose walls are broken through is a person who lacks self-control.”

Have you ever read any of the Pigeon books? Mo Willems’ popular children’s book series includes titles such as Don’t Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late and The Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog. The series is popular for a reason. They’re original and funny and so much fun to read aloud together. They’re all wonderful, but if we had to choose a favorite it would probably be Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus. 

The book starts with the bus driver addressing the reader. He needs to step away from his bus for a few minutes, would we mind keeping an eye on it? He is grateful for our help and offers only one specific instruction: Don’t let the Pigeon drive the bus. Turn the page, enter the Pigeon. He spends the whole book trying different tactics to convince us that he is trustworthy and we should let him drive the bus. We can all imagine, though, what would happen if we did. So we resist, no matter how hard it is, until the bus driver comes back.

We use this simple story when we are helping our kids learn to handle their feelings. When emotions run high and they are losing control, we remind them: 

Don’t let the feelings drive the bus. 

Even as adults, I think we all need this reminder sometimes. We surrender control and let our feelings steer our actions. Fear is one of the worst culprits when it comes to grabbing the wheel and taking over. Alternatively, we attempt to kick our emotions off the bus entirely, pretending they aren’t a part of us and we can leave them on the sidewalk when we drive away. This is actually another way of letting our feelings control us – that we spend tremendous focus and energy on acting as though they’re not there. When we try to kick the feelings to the curb, it is still our emotions that are dictating our actions. 

Feelings are a part of us and they have every right to be on the bus. We can and should interact with them, for they have much to teach us and a story to tell that we need to hear. But letting them drive the bus is asking for trouble, sort of like letting an excitable cartoon pigeon take a turn behind the wheel.

The Bible has plenty to say about self-control. I love this verse from Proverbs because the image of broken city walls fits in with my mental picture of an out-of-control bus being driven by an unqualified driver. Obviously the original text has nothing to do with buses, and more to do with weakened defenses, but I think they are both true. Our defenses are weakened due to the damage caused when we lack self-control. 

Self-control is a fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:23). It is something that the Spirit grows in us, which means that ultimately it should be the Holy Spirit who is driving the bus. 

I am an inexperienced driver when it comes to driving our RV. I’m working on learning, but I know my limits. On narrow or steep mountain roads, on windy days, and in city traffic, I need to let Staffan drive. It would be silly – if not dangerous – to keep the more experienced driver in the passenger seat while I struggle through a situation that I am not equipped to handle. 

In the same way, it is possible to invite the Holy Spirit into our lives (to get on the bus), but not to give him control (let him drive). He will patiently sit in the passenger seat if we ask him to, while the loud voices of our fears demand to drive. Life is seldom a wide, flat, straight highway that’s easy to drive on, but 2020 feels like a winding road beside a cliff, with no guardrail, on a blustery day, with a lot of traffic. We cannot make the mistake of getting our driver and passengers mixed up.

Fear will drive us off the cliff. The Holy Spirit is a calm, confident, experienced driver who knows the road well. 

So who’s driving the bus?

Moment of Beauty

If you haven’t heard the story of Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus, or if it’s been a while since you heard it, enjoy this read aloud version:

Ecclesiastes 7:10

“Do not say, ‘Why were the old days better than these?’ For it is not wise to ask such questions.”

One tradition that we have been able to maintain pretty well despite the pandemic is what our family calls “pizza picnic”. The name comes from the way the tradition started, back when we had an apartment with a normal-sized living room. On family movie night, we would make our own pizza and then move the coffee table and spread a blanket on the living room floor to eat pizza while watching a movie. In our RV, there isn’t floor space so it isn’t really a picnic anymore, and making our own pizza is a little more complicated in our little kitchen, so we’ve switched to frozen pizzas. But the name is the same and we enjoy this time together about once a week. 

Recently, many of the movies we’ve chosen to watch together have been childhood classic that Staffan and I loved as kids. My latest choice: Bedknobs and Broomsticks. As the opening credits rolled and the music began, I found myself a little teary-eyed as I hummed along. Scene followed scene, long-forgotten and yet still so familiar. I was surprised by how emotional I was while watching. Old memories mixed with the new ones forming: of my 3-year-old jumping up and down and laughing, his face covered with pizza sauce, the older two trying to learn the magic words that brought everything to life. It was a happy family moment that was also steeped in nostalgia. 

Nostalgia is a tricky thing. It is wonderful, but sometimes sad, to revisit treasured memories and to replay moments with loved ones, especially those who we no longer have with us. Even if we’re not flipping through old photos to seek it out, nostalgia can sneak up on us in a familiar scent or the notes of a song. 

It has been fun to watch these old movies and talk about life before the internet and cell phones and Instant Pots. In many ways, it seems like a simpler time. But in other ways, it seems much more complicated. That is because both are true. 

Most of the changes that come with time are neither good nor bad. They are simply different. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that they are often a healthy mix of good and bad, so that it is possible to see them either way, depending on which side you choose to look at. Cell phones are not always great for teenagers, but neither was sitting on the bench outside my middle school for an hour wondering if my mom got the “let it ring twice then hang up” signal I sent from the pay phone. 

Change seems to happen faster and faster, and 2020 will probably spark long-term changes that we haven’t even realized yet. I’ve read theories that shaking hands will disappear as a polite gesture of greeting. Some cities are brainstorming ways to re-imagine their methods of law enforcement. Churches have created online worship opportunities that they are likely to continue even after the crisis has passed and we return to corporate worship in person. If any or all of these things have you wringing your hands with anxiety, wondering “what’s happening in this world,” it’s time to pause. Ask yourself what fears are causing this reaction, and if it was truly better “before” or if it’s simply uncomfortable because it’s new and different. What is at the root of these fears? I’m not suggesting there is no cause for concern, but simply that it is very important that we check our gut reactions and unrecognized fears.

These fears can be used to divide and weaken us. We can’t avoid confronting them and wrestling with them. In this election year, politicians will work hard to convince us that it was better before and who we should blame for it being worse now. Churches will face conflict over whether or not online services should be continued and how this new trend affects things like baptism and communion in their particular theological traditions. 

We tend to see the past through tinted glasses. Our minds naturally filter out harsh details and painful moments. In most memories, negative emotions are diminished and positive amplified. This is as it should be. It’s beautiful to look back and focus on the good things, learning from the hard things without getting stuck in those negative feelings. It is healthy and necessary to filter the past this way. But it can also become dangerous if it leads us to try to return to that rosy, well-filtered time (which never really existed) rather than living in the present and planning for the future. 

Wisdom allows us to treasure our memories while also remembering that time only moves in one direction. We do not have to live in fear of change or fear of the future. And as long as we can maintain this perspective, we can watch old movies and enjoy nostalgia to our hearts’ content.

Luke 2:46

“After three days they found him (Jesus) in the temple courts, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions.” 

Did you ever have a teacher that discouraged students from asking questions? It seems antithetical to the profession of teaching, so I hope not. Chances are, though, there was someone who came to your mind. 

I had a math teacher in high school – let’s call him Mr. A. – who literally had each of his lessons scripted and he read them to us each day. It was hard to get his attention to ask a question, and doing so irritated him, presumably because the scripts were carefully timed to the length of a class period. When someone asked a question, though, he would return to that part of the script and re-read it. I’ll never forget the day I told him that I still didn’t understand and asked if he could explain it a different way. His face turned a strange shade of purple and a vein started bulging on his head. He called me impudent and demanded I show more respect. As typical teenagers, we found his reaction hilarious and I got my 15 minutes of high school fame for having caused it. Thank goodness my parents were good at math, though, or I’d have been completely lost.

Most of us know that asking questions is how we learn. As exhausting as they can be, we instinctively realize that the incessant questions of children, especially young children, are important for helping them understand the world around them. Yet something happens along the way, and for some reason the same behavior that causes a child to be labeled as bright and inquisitive causes an adult to be labeled as subversive, disloyal, or even dangerous.

This seems to be especially true in some subcultures, and sadly the Church is often among those that most discourage questions. While I see trends that give me hope that this might be shifting, there is still a significant portion of Christianity that seems to find questions threatening. Especially if they’re not the “right kind” of questions.

Friends, we have nothing to fear from questions. 

If we follow Jesus’ model, asking questions is both an effective way to learn and an effective way to teach. In Luke 2, when his parents find 12-year-old Jesus in the temple, he is listening and asking questions. If the Son of God had questions, it’s very reasonable that we have a few as well. Later on, Jesus also used well-timed and clever questions to help others understand truths on a deeper level than simply explaining them. Check out Luke 7:42 for one clear example among many.

Scripture is full of examples of prominent people who all questioned God in different ways, and none of them managed to topple God off his throne or shake the foundations of his kingdom. In fact, they were usually met with patience and, when appropriate, answers. Even when God refused to answer directly, he never condemned the question or the asker. 

If God isn’t afraid of questions then we shouldn’t be either. We’re not reflecting him well when we meet honest questions with pat, “scripted” answers or passive-aggressive judgment. Our intentions may be to defend God, but the result is often that we widen the gap between God and a child of his that he loves. We would do well to remember that Jesus encourages us to ask, seek, and knock (Matt 7:7). 

When we encounter hostility, whether related to our faith or our opinions on current issues, asking questions is a disarming way of learning about someone else’s position, making sure that person feels seen and heard, and planting gentle seeds of another way of thinking. 

Like the sharks in Finding Nemo, who had to learn that, “Fish are friends, not food,” we also need to learn that:

Moment of Beauty

I recently discovered this lovely poem by Rudyard Kipling that inspired some of these reflections about the value of questions. 

I Keep Six Honest Serving Men

I keep six honest serving-men
 (They taught me all I knew);
Their names are What and Why and When
  And How and Where and Who.
I send them over land and sea,
  I send them east and west;
But after they have worked for me,
  I give them all a rest.

I let them rest from nine till five,
  For I am busy then,
As well as breakfast, lunch, and tea,
  For they are hungry men.
But different folk have different views;
  I know a person small
She keeps ten million serving-men,
  Who get no rest at all!
She sends em abroad on her own affairs,
  From the second she opens her eyes
One million Hows, Two million Wheres,
  And seven million Whys!