Sunday Devotion- It's all about how we choose, by John Aubrey Anderson

"Enemy-occupied territory—that’s what this world is."
C. S. Lewis

I want to ask you a question, but before I do, I need to tell you a story.

Take a moment and imagine yourself as a Marine lieutenant stationed in Southeast Asia. It’s 1968, and the war is cresting. For the men around you, Viet Nam is four things: red dirt, rank sweat, dense jungle, and a dangerous enemy. For you, it’s those four things and one more—it’s a choice. You volunteered for this duty because you believe wholeheartedly in what you’re fighting for. You’re a warrior.

This particular late afternoon finds your recon patrol deep in enemy infested territory. As night settles, you and your men dig in on the crown of a small hill. Midnight comes; sleep doesn’t.

You hear a man-made sound and look out of your small pit to check the area . . . shadows are stirring at the foot of the hill. Even as you watch, the shadows become men—enemy soldiers crawling up the slope. When they’re halfway to your position, the soldiers rise to their feet and begin sprinting in your direction, yelling as they come. It’s sapper unit—a suicide squad with grenades tied to their bodies.

A dozen automatic weapons open fire around you, drowning out the screams of the attackers. As the sappers draw near, they begin blowing themselves up in an effort to kill you and your men.

One of the enemy makes it all the way to the top of the hill. He’s headed straight for you—running full tilt—yelling words you can’t hear. You turn your 12-guage shotgun on him and fire pointblank—the man’s momentum carries him into the hole with you. Before you can recover, the bundle of explosives strapped to his chest detonates and hurls you both into the air.

Now. My question is: If you’re a warrior who has trained himself to focus his life on being effective and you’ve just been blown into the air by a satchel full of high explosives, what is your first thought?

Personally, I like the reaction of Lt. Clebe McClary, USMC, the leader of that thirteen-man recon patrol. He would later say, “As I was flying though the air, all I could think of was, ‘Man, where’s my shotgun!?’” McClary was still in the air when he realized he didn’t have his shotgun because his left arm had been blown off.

Well-armed soldiers followed the sappers, and a major fire-fight erupted on the hill. When the young lieutenant and his men ran out of ammunition, they fought hand-to-hand against a force that out-numbered them ten to one. For Lt. Clebe McClary, the cost of that engagement was an arm and an eye and more than thirty painful follow-on surgeries.

Professor Lewis was right . . . you and I live behind enemy lines in the midst of a global war. It is our responsibility—every minute of our earthly lives—to thwart the purposes of the enemy, and Clebe McClary’s response to that midnight attack epitomizes what I want in my spiritual life. Regardless of the nature and magnitude of any offered distractions, I want to be tunnel-visioned on making myself more effective for the cause of Christ.

Given the scope of the conflict, should our enemy’s power be cause for trepidation? Not hardly. Dedicated followers of Christ have boots and breastplates, shields and swords. Because you and I write Christian fiction, we have an additional weapon that is specific to us . . . an instrument of war as effective as any modern firearm. You and I have our words.

You and I, fellow writers, have been given an immeasurable gift. We are a small and special remnant of a chosen race, a people for God’s own possession. He has carefully selected us—set us aside—to be His marksmen, and He has assigned to us our target—the hearts of men . . . in some cases to heal, in others to slay them to themselves.

So . . . keeping in mind that we are in a war and that we are gifted with a weapon that has the potential to make a monumental difference, consider the following statement: "For the eyes of the Lord move to and fro throughout the earth that He may strongly support those whose heart is completely His." (NASB)

Well, there it is: Our effectiveness won’t hinge on our talent, our skill, or who we know—it will be determined by that to which we give our hearts.

You and I need to live our lives in a way that arrests God’s gaze; we need to weld our hearts to Him—seamlessly. If our hearts are completely His—if He strongly supports us—the things of the world, the flesh, and the devil cannot turn us from what He would have us accomplish. If God owns our hearts, the impact of our writing will be measured on the meters of eternity.

I’m not a prophet, but if you’re a Christian, I can tell you this with utmost confidence: You do not want to take anything off this battlefield—nothing. On that bright day when you stand before the Bema to hear Jesus’s assessment of your life’s choices, you will want to be able to look back on an earthly existence that left you utterly depleted . . . emptied of all potential for His grand cause . . . a dry husk.
Choose well.

In closing . . . if it happens that you’re not a Christian, and you’re at a point in your life where you’re open to exploring the claims of Christ, I’d be honored to visit with you.

John Aubrey Anderson is the author of THE BLACK OR WHITE CHRONICLES—comprised of Abiding Darkness, Wedgewood Grey and And If I Die. He lives in Texas with his wife. www.johnaubreyanderson.com.