The week I began outlining ideas for this book and tried to settle down to a reasonable writing schedule, I ran into all kinds of problems. Nothing wanted to work out.
On Monday I sat down on the recliner and dozed off. I didn’t go near my desk. On Tuesday I was still tired. I went to spend the day with my mom and sisters, and I yawned a lot.
On Wednesday it was time to get serious about my work. I needed the familiar discipline of sitting down and picking up a pen.
Yet I continued to struggle through my writing hours over the next days. A bit of a struggle is nothing new, of course. Some days, words troop obediently along and paragraphs roll out as if oiled. Other days, finding words seems a bit like pulling teeth. There’s a lot of groaning and yanking, but not much is happening.
But this didn’t seem like a normal writer’s issue, either. A sort of smothering, gloomy cloud had settled on me, and I couldn’t seem to make any headway. I spent a lot of time holding my pen, shifting around in my chair, and staring at the wood grain on my desk.
It occurred to me, as I wrestled over and over with my uncooperative thoughts, that I would really like to give up. It was tempting to throw up my hands, call my editor, and say I couldn’t do it. Only the memory of the contract I had signed prevented me from phoning.
On Saturday, in desperation, I called my friend in California who was working on the first book in this series. She listened to my sad tale and shared her own. On the days before her designated hours for working on her devotionals, she would feel the same way. “I have this feeling that I’m unable to do it. I get discouraged. I’ve begun to believe this is coming from Satan,” she continued. “Think about it. He doesn’t want us to write words to bring honor to God, and his power is very real. We’ll have to pray harder and pray more. God can help us do this.”
It was as if a light had suddenly flashed through the smothering cloud that was dragging me down. Somehow, I knew she was right, and with that knowledge came release from despair. I didn’t like to think about the powers of darkness hovering over my desk, but at least I knew they were no match for the power of God. He is faithful to that which he has promised, and he has promised to be near all those who call on his name in truth (Psalm 145:18).
He would hear me when I prayed, and I knew how to pray. I could work once more. It was never exactly easy, this writing, but that terrible weight of hopelessness did not come again.
There’s a reason life is often called a battlefield. The ongoing battle between good and evil reaches each one of us, and so do the consequences of our choices.
The powers of Satan can be overwhelming, and they are very real. His version warps everything God has designed to be good. Yet when we make a conscious decision to walk closer to God, when we desire above all else to live within his will and make every effort to do so, then Satan’s power is bound. God’s power in us can enable us to stand for what is good and right.
| Prayer | Reflection |
| Open my eyes, O God, and make me wise enough to see the snares the enemy of my soul spreads before me. Pick me up when I stumble, and help me to be willing to renounce all works that belong to Satan. | What is one thing I could do today to show that God’s power is the one that’s ruling my life? |