Dusting Off the Tools

A few years ago, I received what is quite possibly the coolest gift I've ever gotten, and most of you know about it, because I've posted a lot of pictures on Facebook of me using it.

One of the characters in one of my books knows the woods inside and out, from each berry that grows in its bushes to each tree that shades its forest floor. She wears knee-high moccasins (look familiar yet?), and she uses a recurve bow to provide herself with both protection and sustenance. She's who I always wanted to be. :)

So when I pulled my brand spankin' new recurve bow out of its package on Christmas 2017, I put it together immediately and went outside to practice. It was sooo cool! I felt just like the character I'd made up and written into the pages of my books. 

I loved that bow, and I was determined to get as good in reality as my imagination had made my book character. I practiced and practiced. For the first long while, I lost a good many arrows behind my target where they burrowed into the hill. After a while, I could hit the target fairly reliably, but they were still all over the place -- top, middle, sides, corners. With more practice, I narrowed the area to almost always hitting a tight ring around center target. I never could consistently always hit center target (and I'm not sure that kind of consistency is possible, although there are some archers who come awfully close). 

My favorite scene from Robin Hood (Disney's Story of Robin Hood, but not the cartoon version) is the archery tournament, where the fate of the prized golden arrow is hanging in the balance. The archer before Robin has just placed his arrow center target, and it looks like he's won -- there's no way Robin is going to pull off a victory now. So Robin tilts back the arrow, takes his stance, pulls his string, and lets it fly. 

And his arrow splits the original arrow right down the shaft. Center target. So. cool!

So one day, after practice, and more practice, and more practice, I finally shot a bull's eye: the center's center. Right in the middle. I was so excited! But I had two arrows left in my quiver, so I decided to empty the quiver before I retrieved my arrows, so I nocked one more, pulled back, let it go... and the tip of it slammed into the nock of the original bulls-eye arrow.

Since my arrows are made of carbon fiber and not wood... there was no splitting of the arrow, for which I was a teensy bit disappointed, but neither arrow was usable again, because the two had hewn together. The second arrow had wedged itself so forcefully into the nock of the first arrow that there was no separating them again.

It was a bullseye's bullseye! 

Here's the important thing, though, what I really want to get at: You know where my bow is right now? It's hanging unstrung on my wall. You know the last time I touched it? Sometime last spring. 

Could I split an arrow now? Or, more correctly, could I fuse two arrows together now?

Most certainly not. It's fairly likely I'd miss the entire target if I tried again today. Why? 

Because I'm out of practice. The muscles I use to pull my bow have weakened. Through the stress, busyness, ridiculous schedule of life -- I've let my skill get rusty.

Okay, so in Romans 12:3-8, Paul says: "For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. If a man's gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his faith. If it is serving, let him serve; if it is teaching, let him teach; if it is encouraging, let him encourage; if it is contributing to the needs of others, let him give generously; if it is leadership, let him govern diligently; if it is showing mercy, let him do it cheerfully."

What is a measure of faith? Can you whip a measuring cup out of your kitchen cupboard and pour in, you know, two cups of faith? Can your recipe call for only 1 1/2 cups of faith, and so you pour a 1/2 cup back?

Obviously, that's a little silly, but it illustrates a point: Faith is measurable. Faith grows with practice. Faith shrinks with disuse.

Hebrews 11:1 defines faith nicely for us: "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." As Paul asks in Romans 8:24: "Who hopes for what he already has?" 

So when a man came to see Jesus in Mark 9:22-24, he brings his demon-possessed son along so Jesus can heal him. The boy's father pleads with Jesus: "If you can do anything, take pity on us and help us." Jesus says: "'If You can?' Everything is possible for him who believes.' Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, 'I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!'"

That father had a measure of faith, and it seemed to have been a little depleted by his circumstances. The coolest thing ever, though, is that this is entirely fixable! And you know Who fixes it? From Whom does the boy's father ask help to overcome his unbelief -- to fill up his measuring cup with faith?

Jesus.

This is awesome. That means, y'all, that no matter how out of practice we get with using our faith, no matter how long we let our faith sit on the shelf and collect dust... the moment we ask for help to increase it -- Jesus helps us.

I've joked before that the only "real" weapon in our house is that unstrung recurve bow on the wall, and in the incredibly likely event that a murderer would ever enter our house, I'd have to ask him to wait a couple of minutes before he begins his rampage while I pull the bow off the wall and re-string it and grab a couple of arrows to nock. 

But that bow, even unstrung, even dust-covered... could still hold a threat. It still holds the potential to inflict harm on an enemy.

It is a tool of warfare, and that tool can be found in various stages of use or disuse.

Ephesians 6:16 says: "In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one." That shield is a tool of warfare, and in the armory, while it holds potential to be useful, it isn't until a soldier takes it out, straps it to his arm, and begins his fight that it holds the power to be effective.

What's your "measure of faith?" What's mine? Personal testimony: Romans 12:6 has been thematic for me this past year, as the Holy Spirit has begun to show me visions and pictures, and given me words for the church. "We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. If a man's gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his faith." 

When the Lord showed me some things last year, I was extremely hesitant to step out and do anything about it, for fear of being wrong. Here's something: Fear is the enemy of faith. When I recognized this, I decided I didn't want to let the enemy named Fear to win, so I dusted off that faith, took it off the shelf, asked the Holy Spirit for increase of faith, and He abundantly answered. 

He took away my supports.

Wait, what? Yeah, that's what faith is. It's being certain of what we do not see. So as the year went on and so many of the things I'd come to rely on as normal were taken away -- Covid came along, in case anyone forgot, there were a few dust-ups both nationally and internationally, so security felt unstable, to say the least, I quit my job so I could finish my masters, my dad was diagnosed with supposedly incurable cancer, and more --

But you know that "peace that passes all understanding" from Philippians 4:6? What's weird is this: This past year -- in the middle of the ridiculous amount of change in both my personal life and the big picture of world events -- I have never been more certain of the Holy Spirit's work in my life and through the gifts He's given me to serve others.

And it's not me who has taken down that tool off the shelf. The Holy Spirit came along, grabbed it off the shelf, wiped down the dust, and in answer to my shaky "Help my unbelief," he handed me my shield that brings me the peace that passes all understanding, that guards my heart and my mind in Christ Jesus.

The nations may rage furiously, and I am not unaffected, but I have peace. The storm may blow wildly, and I am not unaffected, but I have peace. The sickness may encroach quickly, and I may be affected, but I have peace.

"Lord, help me overcome my unbelief!"