Fighting... but not alone

     It is 1:00 in the morning, and my daughter and I wage war.  She lies in her hospital bed, impossibly beautiful and serene, while hooked up to all kinds of wires and machines that aid her in her fight, while her mama fights fear with faith, despair with God's promises.  His Word becomes to me a supernatural weapon of power and strength and solace that at various moments in our battle comes alive, piercing the darkness with Truth.  And so we fight.
     But we do not fight alone.
     For we fight with an army beside us, behind us, before us.  Even at this moment, the army of the body of Christ fights with us and for us.  Praying when we have no words or strength left.  Praying for my daughter's battle against bleeding and swelling in the brain.  Praying for our peace.  Praying for God's supernatural healing.  Praying for His peace, His enabling, His will, His love, His Light in our darkness.  And we feel their prayers.  Almost palpable, we feel their precious prayers, many through tears, filling us with His presence and perseverance and patience in this long, hard struggle.  We feel the prayers of my daughter's high school friends, so young, so uncertain, and yet so fervent in the only way they know to fight for their friend.  And the prayers of our dear friends and family and family of faith--O how they fill us with determination when we are desperate and with faith when fear assaults.  They are our Aaron and Hur, holding up our arms so that we can continue to wage this war.
     Thank You thank You thank You, Father, for this body of Christ.  Never before have I so experienced the incredible gift and power and love of Your body of believers who just seem to overflow with Your grace in our hour of greatest need.
     But most of all, as I look out the window in our darkened room and see the glowing moon, I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the Lion of Judah fights for us in this room.  I have felt His presence and power in this tiny cubicle of flashing lights and beeping sounds of monitors.  He is here right now, undergirding, filling, fighting, calming, loving, breathing His Life and Light and Love.  No, in the darkness of this night, my daughter and I, we are not alone, for He is with us and for us and around us and in us.
      O how I thank Him.  O how I love Him.  For He knows what it is to fight against death and despair, against fear and pain.  He fought it at the cross and won.  And so, too, one day we all will win.  We may lose a war or two along the way, but our ultimate victory is assured.  And so we fight on.
     We do not know how or when our war will end.  The way ahead is long and hard and uncertain.  But we do not fight alone.  With the prayers and love of the body of Christ, with the powerful presence of our Savior, the Lion of Judah, we will continue to wage war, and, by the grace of God, we will not give up or give in.  Fighting fear with faith.  Fighting worry with the Word.  Fighting swelling and brain injury with supernatural prayer and belief.
    And even as we wage our war, we pray for and with our friends who fight their own battles--whether against disease or doubt or despair.  For my daughter's dear friends hurt in the same car accident--O Father, help and heal them and use this all for glory in their lives and in the lives of a watching world.  For friends battling cancer or struggling with addictions or mental illness--Lord, we don't know all that others are facing, but You do, and You are with them.  Be their mighty Lion of Judah. Be the Light in their darkness.  Be their All in All and fight for them.
     The last 30 hours have been a blur of battle for us.  But in the midst of it all, God has flooded my heart with His Word from the gospel of John.  When fear overwhelms us, He is our Peace.  He is our Living Water.  He is our Good Shepherd.  He is our Light.  He is our Bread of Life.  He is our Door.  He is our Resurrection and the Life.
      Last night, in the darkness, as my husband and I stood by our daughter's bed, I almost desperately tried to talk to her, encourage her, pray for her, and my dear husband quietly reminded me: "The Lord is keeping her company. She is not alone."  And suddenly I remembered, "The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it." (John 1:5)  "Jesus, " I silently prayed, "thank You for keeping her company.  Be her Light in her darkness."
     And He was... and He is.  And He is mine as well.  In this darkness, His Light shines and shines.
     And so my daughter and I, on this quiet dark night, we fight on.  But not alone.  Never alone.  Thank You Jesus.  I think I can hear You roar.
     To God, our Savior, our Lion of Judah, be all the glory.