In the Saddle With Us

Perhaps not unsurprisingly, I was fairly low on the social totem pole throughout my middle and high school years. It's not an uncommon thing; those years are awkward years for most, and wherever people end up in the dog-eat-dog climate is often a result of how aggressive they are. Shy flower that I was, aggressiveness was not high up on my priority list. I hated it when people noticed me.

My kids are just now getting into these years, and I'm keeping an anxious eye on them, knowing they'll be all right, but still, realizing they'll probably take quite a few knocks along the way. Maybe social patterns have changed a little, but some of the essentials are still the same.

When I was in 9th grade and my older brother was in 12th, we carpooled with another boy in my brother's class who lived near us, and I spent a good deal of time eavesdropping on conversations between my brother and his friend while I pretended not to exist in the backseat. One day, though, our carpool friend turned around to face me. "Want to know what your brother did today?" 

Uh... okay. I nodded. Our friend looked positively gleeful. He told a story about how my brother had stuck up for me that day. "And it was awesome!" he declared. He dove into the tale with relish. Another boy in their class had been systematically poking fun at some of the younger high school kids at lunch, and the bully had spied me where I was eating and lit into me (this was all out of my hearing; I knew nothing about any of it). As the boy had harangued me to all his friends, my brother's carpool friend didn't spare details of the names he'd called me. 

So I began to wilt. Already struggling with lack of confidence, the fact that a senior boy was calling me those things did a number on whatever shreds of self-esteem I was barely managing to cling to. Already hovering inside my shell, I backed in even further.

"'But then,' carpool friend went on, 'your brother walked over, grabbed him by the collar, and pushed him back against the locker, and he said, 'Don't you ever talk that way about my sister again!'" 

I could see my brother's profile from the backseat, as he paid attention to traffic, and I could tell he looked a little satisfied with himself (which makes me laugh now). Our carpool friend looked half-awed (because stuff like that just didn't happen at our little Christian school), and I found out something incredibly important that day: I had an advocate. I had someone stand up for me -- completely and absolutely undeservedly. I didn't ask for my brother's help, but he was there, nevertheless, to step up to the enemy and to tell him to back. off.

My brother stood up for me for the simple fact that I was his sister, and as his sister, I belonged to him (in the way that sisters belong to brothers and vice-versa). Remember the saying: "Blood is thicker than water"? It was true in this case. Sibling rivalry was definitely a thing in our family; my brother and I had had our share of tussles and shouting matches and glares and hissy fits, but when the outside enemy came for the inside family unit, my brother stepped in and stood up for me. I've never forgotten it.

Romans 8:31-34 says: "If God is for us, who can be against us? He Who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all -- how will He not also, along with Him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God Who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Jesus, Who died -- more than that, Who was raised to life -- is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us."

We get a picture of the heavenly courtroom from Daniel 7, where "One like a Son of Man, coming with the clouds of heaven, approached the Ancient of Days and was led into His presence." He's seated at the right hand of God, and He's the One Who holds up His hand when the Devil, the Prosecutor, hurls his accusations at us: "Objection, Your Honor," He says, "I've already served the sentence for the accused."

There's just no comeback from that. There's nothing the devil can say except to writhe in his own helplessness. We are free, through Jesus, because He loved us so much. Paul says: "No, in all these things [the things he means are mentioned in 8:35: "Trouble, hardship, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger, sword"], we are more than conquerors through Him Who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 8:37-39).

Okay, when I think of "conquerors," I think of knights and medieval jousts. I don't know why. I suppose metal-plated armor and horses and spears just brings with it a form of victory and conquest that matches up with my idea of a conquering hero. 

I remember when my husband and I visited London in the late summer of 2006, and we got a chance to see an actual jousting tournament set up just outside the walls of the Tower of London. It was the coolest thing ever, 'cause the riders were donned in metallic medieval armor, and they even had "nobility" sitting in the stands dressed up in Renaissance garb. My little history-loving heart was going pitty-pat. :)

I was almost as excited as the little five-year-old boy who sat next to me who turned to his parent and said, "I want to try it!"

Which comment took me back to another "jousting" tournament I'd seen years earlier -- this one without any hint of medieval play, and "jousting" consisted of a rider galloping on a horse at high speeds down a track and spearing a tiny ring dangling at the end of a string. And one young rider, so young that his legs were split horizontally on the saddle, rode proudly in that joust with his dad in the same saddle right behind him, holding him firmly in place, gripping the spear above them both, and guiding the spear into the ring with precision and skill.

When the ring clattered down the spear's shaft, the boy crowed gleefully in his saddle. He'd done it! He'd completed the challenge... because his dad had been in that saddle with him and held the spear for him.

That's what Jesus does for us, isn't it? He rides into battle with us, he holds our weapons for us, and nothing the enemy can throw our way will separate Him from us, neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation!

He's chosen us! He's chosen us to carry us through the battle, because He loves us so. much!

Here's another battle, a final battle described in Revelation 17. It's one of the last great battles before Jesus makes all things new, and here comes the Conqueror. John describes it: "[The enemy] will make war against the Lamb, but the Lamb will overcome them, because He is Lord of lords and King of kings -- and with Him will be His called, chosen, and faithful followers" (Revelation 17:14).

We don't have to fight that final battle ourselves; Jesus is right there with us, His arms securely around us, holding our weapons, fighting our fight, plunging the weapon to center target, Lord of lords, King of kings...

We aren't just conquerors, trotting along on the backs of our horses, hoping we get the spear through the ring. We're more than conquerors, because we've got the King of kings in the saddle with us! His skill is never-ending, His love is unfathomable, and through Him, we are victorious! He's our Advocate, our Counselor! He pushes the enemy against the wall, and He tells him to back. off. 

We are His. We are chosen, and He fights for us!