The birds were chattering, flittering, and pecking about as I gazed out at my backyard on a peaceful summer morning. I sat on my patio absorbing the scene, amused by their squabbles, their tail flung mating dances, their wobbly bobbing gaits as they combed the grass for food. All of the sudden there was a flurry of feathers and the squawk of an enraged parrot as they all flew away to the tops of nearby trees.
A small grey tabby cat padded through my yard, confident, as though she’d taken this route many times before. I smiled at her predatory prowl and spoke quietly from my chair, not wanting to alarm my cute little visitor unduly, “hi, kitty.” She froze, looked over at where I was sitting, and then raced away like a deer who’s heard one too many tree branches snap in the woods.
I had done nothing menacing. I hadn’t moved suddenly or raised my voice. Still, with only a couple of softly spoken words, the cat realized that she wasn’t actually the biggest predator in this yard, and that was enough to send her flying for safer territory.
The Epiphany
Then it hit me: THIS is the kind of warfare we need to be waging in these days. To be so full of God’s presence that we cause the enemy to take off running at the mere realization that we’re there. To fully occupy, then overflow from our spaces by the Spirit of the Lord. To rest quietly and confidently in the arms of our Savior, who never fails to intimidate the enemy of our souls.
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