I’ve been battling a rather agonizing health challenge over the past week. Never have I experienced such intense physical pain (this includes bearing two children without the use of an epidural either time). There is a nerve that was being crushed by the discs in my spine, causing a burning sensation to flow all throughout my shoulder blade and bicep area. It also felt as if someone was simultaneously twisting my pectoral muscle whilst repeatedly driving a nail into my funny bone—and, no, it wasn’t funny. Meanwhile, my forearm was burning and my hands—the hands I use to make a living, to love on my family, and to encourage others through my written words—were completely numb. The only temporary relief I could find was to lift my arm up over my head, which I did for two days straight, pacing like a caged animal and crying until my eyes went dry.
The pain would surge, intensifying and subsiding like ocean waves. During the most intense times, I couldn’t do much more than just cry out, “Oh, God…Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!” I wasn’t doing this in a disrespectful way. I really was calling upon the Greatest Power I know for help. As the wave would begin to subside, I would whisper more cognizant prayers for healing and for the strength to endure until that healing was made manifest. I was sure to thank God for all He was doing on my behalf, and I prayed for the needs of others whom I knew were also suffering from various types of pain.
At times, my arm would grow weary and my husband and my son would come and help me hold it up. As I pressed my face into their bodies and cried, submitting to their assistance, it made me think of how Moses had to keep his staff raised as Joshua led the Israelites in battle against the Amalekites. As long as Moses’ hand was raised, the Israelites were victorious. But when he would grow weary and lower his hand, the Amalekites would start winning. So Aaron and Hur placed a rock beneath Moses to rest upon and they stood by and helped him keep his hands raised until the victory was won. After which, Moses built an altar and named it “The Lord is my Banner.” (Exodus 17:8-16).
There were so many things about this story that spoke to me. Number one, like Moses, I had to keep my hand raised for a really, really long time as I waited on Him to deliver me a victory. So, as long as I was going to have my hand raised anyway, I decided to make it less about the pain and more about praising God. Regardless of what was going on in the natural, I had to mentally surrender my situation to the Lord and praise Him through the tough spots, knowing He would come through for me—and He did. He gently carried me through the pain, and He provided me with the strength I needed to persevere from one moment to the next.
Secondly, I clearly saw that God never expects us to do battle alone. As hard as it may feel to ask for help, I know I didn’t have the strength to make it through all this by myself. I am so appreciative of my family and friends who have provided me with the most incredible physical, emotional, and spiritual support a person could ask for. The people God has placed in my life all rallied together to help me pull down the victory from high, Heavenly places—even when the pain caused me to behave like less of the beautiful, kind person I’m meant to be.
Then, there was the rock that Moses rested on. His friends brought it with them. My rock and my Salvation is Jesus Christ, and all who were involved in helping me through this crisis brought that Rock with them for me to rest on. They reminded me of His power, His ability, and His love for me. They encouraged me with His words. And what I know about that Rock is that He endured so much more agony than I could ever imagine as He hung on the Cross over 2,000 years ago. And it’s because of all that He endured that my healing has already been accomplished.
Finally, as verse 14 says, God “utterly blots out the remembrance of Amalek from under the heavens.” To me, that says, He not only gives us victory in this battle, but He tells us that this enemy shall never rise-up against us again. Now I am claiming that promise, building an altar, and planting my banner of victory into the ground by writing this blog. Writing this has taken me three-times as long as it would have before because the numbness in my fingers that is still being worked out. But the devil is a liar. He tried to make me think He could take something from me that God has given me to use for His purposes. But he forgot one very important factor…my God is bigger than anything he can throw at me. This altar is here to help us remember Jehovah Nissi is our banner…our flag, staked in the ground, reminding future generations AND reminding our foes that this battle has already been won and that the enemy has been completely obliterated.
I’m still going to do what God has given me the strength and ability and calling to do and I pray you are blessed and encouraged in some way because of it. None of the battles God allows us to endure are set before us to destroy us. That may be Satan’s plan, but for God, our battles are meant to be part of our growing process. They intended to make us stronger and to be an encouragement to those who may be facing a similar battle of their own. So don’t let the devil make you feel weak or ineffective. Go on and push past whatever he’s trying to use to make you feel defeated and let God turn it around and use it for His purposes! Declare victory right now over your enemies, drive that stake in the ground, and call upon Jehovah Nissi to utterly blot out your enemy forever!
220 Gal 