60. Strength

Sleep is impossible.

All I keep thinking about is what I’m going to do. What I need to say to Marsh when I go see him tomorrow. What I should tell Kelsey. If I should say anything to anybody.

Round and around it goes.

I toss and turn, then toss and turn a little more.

Then it finally dawns on me. I mean—I keep forgetting.

Just pray.

So I do that.

But as the words come out, they don’t make sense.

How could God let stuff like this happen? How could He allow someone like Kelsey to be in danger?

What about Jocelyn and Lily and all the others?

I know that bad things happen to good people, even people who believe.

Then I remember Jocelyn’s words.

Ephesians six. Ten through twenty.

I climb out of bed and turn on the light.

I’d forgotten about that. I didn’t forget about seeing Jocelyn, but I had forgotten about this.

I read the verses. They’re not just a nice little story about Moses or Peter or Jesus. I look back at the beginning of Ephesians and see that it’s a letter written by the apostle Paul—from prison.

He talks about getting ready for battle. About fighting a war.

About putting on God’s armor to stand against the Devil.

One verse that reminds me of Iris.

“For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places.”

The unseen world, the dark world, the evil spirits.

But I can see into that world and see those spirits.

I don’t quite get things like the belt of truth and the body armor of God’s righteousness. It sounds nice, but I just don’t get it.

But then I read this.

“Pray in the Spirit at all times and on every occasion. Stay alert and be persistent in your prayers for all believers everywhere.”

I think about it.

At all times.

On every occasion.

And the apostle Paul can talk—he’s in chains and still preaching as “God’s ambassador.”

“So pray that I will keep on speaking boldly for him, as I should.”

Shouldn’t he be praying for release?

I guess that’s faith. That’s the real deal.

What I have is kindergarten-level belief.

It’d be cool to have that kind of strength.

So that’s what I ask God for. Not to be released from this prison. But for strength like the writer of those words.

Strength to know what to do.

Strength to one day speak boldly and to know what I need to say.