I was FaceTiming my parents to confess something to them. The burden and shame of my mistake was keeping me up at night. My jaw was sore throughout the day from clenching it.
Seated on my bed, with my pup laying at my feet, the tears were pouring out of my eyes before I could get the words out. And the tears continued to fall as the conversation went along.
My identity of being good enough was broken in that call. The facade I upheld so nicely was finally smashed to pieces. And it didn’t feel good, at all. Yes, it felt good to get things out in the open.
“You can’t whitewash your sins and get by with it; you find mercy by admitting and leaving them.”
Proverbs 28:13 MSG
But there was no hope in sight. Grace and mercy abounded. Yet the end of the tunnel appeared as dark as ever.
Pretty sure my mom caught onto that because she made me pull my face out of my T-shirt and look at her on the phone. She asked me if I was listening to the devil and the lies he was telling me in that moment – that I would never be set free, that I would always have this shame to carry around, that I was nothing since my “good girl” act was done, that I was a disgrace, and so on and so on and so on.
His lies were loud. Not in the audible sense but in the impact it had when it reached my soul. It vibrated throughout my bones, seeming to chip off pieces as each word ricocheted throughout my being.
And in that moment, my mom started to speak Truth to me, asking me what I believed. Was God still King of my life despite the silly mistake I made? Could anything shake Him from His throne? Was He able to help me? Did He love me any less now?
As Truth was proclaimed, Satan’s bogus lies died down. And quieted.
And then I got mad.
How dare he make me feel so inferior. How dare he tell me my life had no value because I couldn’t live up to a label he himself pinned to my chest many years ago. How dare he sentence me to something when Christ has set me free. How dare he make me think I had to take care of things on my own because then, despite the shortcoming, it would look like I do have my stuff together. How dare he convince me that grace wasn’t an option in this case.
And in that moment, I wasn’t okay with just standing there, knowing God’s got me under His wing (Psalm 91) which is pretty awesome. But I wanted to punch Satan in the face. To go on the offensive instead of the defense. I wanted to use the sword of the Spirit (Eph. 6:17).
The MacArthur commentary describes the sword of the spirit as this: As the sword was the soldier’s only weapon, so God’s Word is the only needed weapon, infinitely powerful than any of Satan’s. The Greek term refers to a small weapon (6-18 inches long). It was used both defensively to fend off Satan’s attacks and offensively to help destroy the enemy’s strategies.
To withstand the attacks from the enemy, we shouldn’t always take a defensive posture. – (Priscilla Shirer, The Armor of God)
It’s not a broadsword. It’s a dagger. It’s up close and personal.
As I’ve been going through this season of fighting the lies with the truth, a statement has been brought to my mind.
Not the way slay means in today’s society. At all. Not even close.
Go slay. As in go kill.
This isn’t a matter of fighting for victory. We already have it in Christ. It’s all about fighting from victory.
This isn’t something I want to be scrolled past on social media. It’s something I want people, especially women, to really take to heart.
We don’t have to buy these lies or let them label us anymore. We don’t have to sit there and take it. We can fight back. Because we win. So Satan can leave.
And it’s by no means anything we do by our own power. Instead, it’s all about God’s Truth. And believing Him, in what He says and who He is.
So when you find Truth to fight a lie you’ve been hearing over and over, write it out on social media with #GoSlay.
Who knows, it could be the very Truth someone else needs to help them in their fight.