He said it to me, just outside the bathroom door. Just after boys left for school.
“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
My husband, standing there weary, after a half a night’s sleep. He’d been up for hours. Walking. Praying. Reading. And then this. This promise.
It’s not your promise. I hear the voice still. Hermeneutics class, three years ago. But what if God whispers to your husband in the dark? Whispers into his restless night, and it’s the thing he’s most desperate to hear. The thing I need, too. And I ask it out loud. Can that be for us, too?
“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” And all day long, I keep it close and say it often.
Good thing, too. Given one teenage boy in particular who comes home primed for a fight, as soon as school’s ended. No reason, or a hundred reasons, more like. Music loud. Silence deafening. Firmly planted, refusing to budge.
We just want to help. We think it and say it. But every solution leads to a thousand excuses. And it’s stalemate before we make our first move. Be Still. And what else can we do?
He’ll do the fighting. I keep reminding myself. Wondering, how long? Will we know when it’s over? Will we know when to stop being still?
Last night we talked while we lay in bed. Talked about boys, and the Exodus story. Talked about Him fighting, and us being still. It’s a relief, and a mystery, but if He said it, we’ll take it. What else can we do?
Kyle reads it again. How the people of God marched out boldly, but looked back afraid. Courage one minute. Terror the next. Like us.
Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today.
The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still. (Exodus 14:13-14)
We settle in, wrapped in a promise. Stillness and rest. Him fighting, and us sleeping.