300 of this, 300 of that...
Technology is helpful. Once you know how to turn the stuff on. So mornings are usually started with a cup of the Elixir of Knowledge and the laptop.
One button pushed, a couple of clicks and, voila, my byte from the Word appears on the screen. Daily nourishment for the soul with minimal output on my part. Gotta love it.
So yesterday I read the story of Gideon. He started with about 32,000 guys. Still outnumbered about a hundred to one, but hey, the guy and his boys showed up to play.
Then it went down to 10,000 guys. Then it went down to the water where only 300 kept their eyes up, looking for the enemy, while the rest faceplanted and slurped.
The Elixir immediately brings up the other 300. Leonidas and the 300 Spartans.
Pretty much the same situation. Buncha bad guys. A BIG buncha bad guys - like the "grains of sands on the beach" number of bad guys.
Midianites and Amalekites for Gideon. Persians for Leonidas. Po"taa"toe. Po"tah"toe.
Both 300s were brave. Very brave. But the tactics were quite different.
Both leaders used geography to their advantage. Leonidas held the narrow Hot Gates at the pass of Thermopylae. Gideon ringed the ridges around the sleeping army in the valley.
But one 300 went in their own strength, the other in His Strength. One was a glorious defeat with the 300 dead and the Persian advance delayed. The other, a glorious victory with 300 alive, completely routing the Joint Armies and driving 'em from the land.
"I think I'll go with Gideon for 300, Alex."
Another cup of the Elixir causes introspection of personal battles fought against unseen adversaries, most of my own making.
I have a tendency to be about 2/3 Spartan and 1/3 Gideonite. I let Him lead, following in faith...and then I break ranks and charge, tired of waiting, needing to do something. Needing to be in charge.
A man of action...not a man of smarts.
Kinda like the guy walking down a blistering, dusty road at noon, carrying a huge backpack and duffle bag and sweating profusely.
This old guy pulls up in a nice pickup and offers him a ride. The guy says "thanks" and climbs into the back, sitting down on the wheel well, his pack still on his back, the duffel across his lap.
"Hey, son," smiled the old timer, "why dontcha ride up in the cab wit' me? Got da air-conditionin' on."
"Oh, sir," said the sweating man, "you've been nice enough to give me a ride. I can't let you carry my gear, too."
Yeah. The sweaty guy is my doppelganger. I have looked just like him. And on more than one occasion.
I think that's why He had Gideon and the boys hold a trumpet in one hand and a torch in the other. Couldn't get to their swords and screw things up...couldn't take things into their own hands.
Sometimes the fight isn't mine. It's His. And He can easily handle it without my help. He only requires two things on my part - Trust and Obey.
Those are really the only two things He asks of me in a fight...that I grab ahold of Trust with a lockjaw grip and then reach out and lockdown on Obey. If I concentrate on that, I can't screw things up...just like my ancient ridge-running brothers, their hands obediently full of what was needed.
Well, I better get movin'. There's things to do, places to go.
Battles to win.
OK...got my jar and torch. Now...where did I put that trumpet?