Victories

                 The king rejoices in your strength, Lord. How great is his joy in the victories you give! (Psalm 21:1)

                The first thing that comes to mind as I read Psalm 21 is that God doesn’t give me victories. He doesn’t display His strength to me or on my behalf. Oh, of course, there was Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. Yes, that counts, but you know what I mean. Ultimate victory doesn’t change the lack of present victory. It doesn’t make me feel victorious, at least not yet. I suspect there are at least times when you feel the same way.

                But, I’ll admit that I tend to have dramatic expectations of victory. I want the explosion of the shark or the Death Star. I want my enemies destroyed or humiliated. I want walk down the aisle between respectful followers, ascend the platform, and have everyone cheer (especially Chewbacca!) Or, given my preference for being invisible, I want to hear people to whisper, “Who was that masked man?” Yes, I know, I’m mixing shows, but that’s why I say, “dramatic expectations.”

                Invisible victories. Do you know how hard it is to be invisible? Of course, you can withdraw into your lair and never emerge. That makes you invisible but denies you the victories. You can skulk about after dark. That might work better. But, of course, we aren’t really invisible and eventually, someone finds out. But imagine if you were invisible. If someone saw litter rising from the road and disappearing (into a bag that is conveniently also invisible), they’d catch on. What if, instead, you were able to get someone else to pick up the litter, possibly without their even realizing they were being trained? Wouldn’t that be a victory? And, apropos of this verse, wouldn’t it be a victory for the person taught to help? Let me put it another way. If you child or grandchild finally starts cleaning up his/her room on his/her own, haven’t you won a victory?

                I once did a talk about collections (sword and letter opener) and life. I noted that there aren’t many opportunities to use swords, they cost a lot, and they take up a lot of room. A hundred letter openers fit in a space where one decent sword could be displayed, with room to spare.  Victories are the same way. We want the sword, but a hundred letter openers is actually the more impressive collection. We may be impressed with the one big victory, but if it’s alone, it’s not a collection. The smaller victories we might not even notice are far more impressive, if we stop to consider them. And God gives both kinds.

                Let me end by quoting Abraham Lincoln – not Scripture, but wise:

“The best way to destroy an enemy is to make him a friend.”