Leather and Swords
Everyone loves a good fight. I love a good Bruce Willis movie with a
lame plot and lots of guns. Watching women in unrealistic clothing kick
the ever-living stuffing out of anyone and anything, is always a Friday
night favorite. It's practically its own genre.
But for some reason, we women dislike our weapons in the real world. Because our real weapons are not of our choice, but are given to us. These weapons look like computers or laundry baskets or books or test tubes or baby diapers, or reed knives, or highlighters, or nail polish, or account books, or manuscripts, etc. For some reason we think it doesn't count if it doesn't include non-civilian-grade semi-automatics, leather jump suits, and/or capes. Reality needs to keep up with Hollywood.
Women today don't get to fight evil with salon done hair, manicured nails and the periodical close up. We do it from our living rooms, over coffee, in the car, in the classroom, at work or at other equally mundane and unglamorous locations, without a camera crew or a snack bar.
We must fight evil while trying to pay off school loans, come up with money for rent, doctor bills, and over charges on our cellular phones. We fight it when sleep deprived from all night studying, early rising children, insomnia, or personal drama. Crime is battled as we try to graduate, potty train a 2-year-old, take care of an aging relative, or provide for a family.
I know, you think I am lame and you are done reading this now.
But where else do we fight villains such as Negativity? Such destroyers as Depression and Despair? Distrust, Defeat, Irritability, and other equally debilitating foes? Where else can we practice our ninja skills, but on the daily grind that is often formidable? I have had my battles with depression and thoughts of failure recently. It is ugly and these villains want me dead. Just like any hero story, for a while, it looks like evil will triumph, but then we make a great come back.
If I had my weapon of choice, I would carry a pair of 9mm handguns with holsters on my thighs and an amazing quick draw. But... I was given a rather battered and worn two-handed claymore. It is eighteen century, I believe. This broadsword is still useable, but embarrassing and heavy. It weights about six pounds.
I happen to have weak arms. Aching and lameness is all, but it an annoying restriction at times. So instead of sweet thigh riding firearms, I am lugging a four and a half foot long broadsword. Slightly oxymoronic in my mind, but God has a good sense of humor.
So I have a sword. Now what? I need a superhero costume!!!!
Hmmm no. Because I need my sword at random times. Like when I am falling asleep and Despair tries to beat me up. Or when Fear tries to get into my dreams. When Longing comes at me at work and knocks me down. I need my sword when I am out with a friend and she tells me terrible news in her life. I need my sword when a someone confides in me and I need to respond carefully. I need my sword when I get a low grade on my homework (Look out at those times, it's not pretty).
I need my sword when the mirror tells me I am fat, lumpy, dimply, pimply and unattractive. I need my sword when my sister says she "hates her horrible life". When I'm PMSing, arms aching and I realize the coffee maker broke. I need my sword when I am dealing with people I consider inadequate or moronic. I need my sword when a friend is sick. I need my sword when my strength is gone and my heart is at risk. I always need my sword. And I cannot wear leather all the time.
Yes. You have probably guessed that the sword is Prayer. It is that shrub of protection we throw at people. It is us seeing Hopelessness clawing at a friend and whipping out our swords of Faith and slicing it to pieces so small they cannot be seen with a magnifying glass.
But sadly... our swords get rusty sitting on our hips. Oh, those curvy hips we carve to perfection using Krispy Kremes, so that they work in those leather jello molds we call pants.
Sad that we define hero work as guts and glory and blood, while looking fabulous and only slightly tousled. Because there is so much fighting to be done for glory. No fame, no guns, no capes, no guts, and no leather. Just putting in time for another's glory. I am trying to keep my sword clean and ready, but it takes practice and I am awfully clumsy.
I heard Beth Moore speak once. She told her close Bible study ladies about an issue in her life and she said she could hear it, the swords slicing the air as those trained warriors, probably in mommy shoes and pleated pants, began to battled for her cause. You want power ladies? That is power. Lets start to use that power.
I Samuel 25:13 David said to them, “Put on your swords!” So they put on their swords. (paraphrased).
But for some reason, we women dislike our weapons in the real world. Because our real weapons are not of our choice, but are given to us. These weapons look like computers or laundry baskets or books or test tubes or baby diapers, or reed knives, or highlighters, or nail polish, or account books, or manuscripts, etc. For some reason we think it doesn't count if it doesn't include non-civilian-grade semi-automatics, leather jump suits, and/or capes. Reality needs to keep up with Hollywood.
Women today don't get to fight evil with salon done hair, manicured nails and the periodical close up. We do it from our living rooms, over coffee, in the car, in the classroom, at work or at other equally mundane and unglamorous locations, without a camera crew or a snack bar.
We must fight evil while trying to pay off school loans, come up with money for rent, doctor bills, and over charges on our cellular phones. We fight it when sleep deprived from all night studying, early rising children, insomnia, or personal drama. Crime is battled as we try to graduate, potty train a 2-year-old, take care of an aging relative, or provide for a family.
I know, you think I am lame and you are done reading this now.
But where else do we fight villains such as Negativity? Such destroyers as Depression and Despair? Distrust, Defeat, Irritability, and other equally debilitating foes? Where else can we practice our ninja skills, but on the daily grind that is often formidable? I have had my battles with depression and thoughts of failure recently. It is ugly and these villains want me dead. Just like any hero story, for a while, it looks like evil will triumph, but then we make a great come back.
If I had my weapon of choice, I would carry a pair of 9mm handguns with holsters on my thighs and an amazing quick draw. But... I was given a rather battered and worn two-handed claymore. It is eighteen century, I believe. This broadsword is still useable, but embarrassing and heavy. It weights about six pounds.
I happen to have weak arms. Aching and lameness is all, but it an annoying restriction at times. So instead of sweet thigh riding firearms, I am lugging a four and a half foot long broadsword. Slightly oxymoronic in my mind, but God has a good sense of humor.
So I have a sword. Now what? I need a superhero costume!!!!
Hmmm no. Because I need my sword at random times. Like when I am falling asleep and Despair tries to beat me up. Or when Fear tries to get into my dreams. When Longing comes at me at work and knocks me down. I need my sword when I am out with a friend and she tells me terrible news in her life. I need my sword when a someone confides in me and I need to respond carefully. I need my sword when I get a low grade on my homework (Look out at those times, it's not pretty).
I need my sword when the mirror tells me I am fat, lumpy, dimply, pimply and unattractive. I need my sword when my sister says she "hates her horrible life". When I'm PMSing, arms aching and I realize the coffee maker broke. I need my sword when I am dealing with people I consider inadequate or moronic. I need my sword when a friend is sick. I need my sword when my strength is gone and my heart is at risk. I always need my sword. And I cannot wear leather all the time.
Yes. You have probably guessed that the sword is Prayer. It is that shrub of protection we throw at people. It is us seeing Hopelessness clawing at a friend and whipping out our swords of Faith and slicing it to pieces so small they cannot be seen with a magnifying glass.
But sadly... our swords get rusty sitting on our hips. Oh, those curvy hips we carve to perfection using Krispy Kremes, so that they work in those leather jello molds we call pants.
Sad that we define hero work as guts and glory and blood, while looking fabulous and only slightly tousled. Because there is so much fighting to be done for glory. No fame, no guns, no capes, no guts, and no leather. Just putting in time for another's glory. I am trying to keep my sword clean and ready, but it takes practice and I am awfully clumsy.
I heard Beth Moore speak once. She told her close Bible study ladies about an issue in her life and she said she could hear it, the swords slicing the air as those trained warriors, probably in mommy shoes and pleated pants, began to battled for her cause. You want power ladies? That is power. Lets start to use that power.
I Samuel 25:13 David said to them, “Put on your swords!” So they put on their swords. (paraphrased).
2/2011
Comments
Post a Comment