“O Lord, how long will you look on? Rescue my life from their ravages, my precious life from these lions.” Psalm 35:17 (NIV)
My husband recently reminded me of a community event sponsored by our church in Illinois. The Children’s Ministry staff had brought in some real, wild animals, including a lion, whose cage was set up in the church’s front lobby. A huge crowd of wide-eyed parents with curious children stood only feet away from the huge beast pacing in its cage. We were all mesmerized at the majestic power of this animal when, with no warning, the beast suddenly opened its mouth and roared.
Have you ever heard a lion roar? I am not talking about watching a National Geographic special in which your remote can control the volume as you comfortably listen in the safety of your home. The only real lion I ever saw in Congo was the pitiful bag of bones that paced in its cage, penned up in Mobutu Sese Seko’s (the former dictator of the DRC) personal zoo. I always felt sorry for the thing as we passed it on the way to school everyday. I never heard it roar. Perhaps it was too weak from hunger to do so.
The night of the event at our church was my first experience of hearing the earth-shattering roar of a lion. It was terrifying. I stood paralyzed in my fright and grabbed for my children. I questioned whether that flimsy cage could truly contain the beast if it wanted to break out. I, for one, did not want to be anywhere near if it decided to try to escape.
Have you heard the roar of the lion–the lion that prowls around seeking “whom he may devour?” (I Peter 5:8) I bet you have. Perhaps the lion’s roar was disguised in the phone call you weren’t expecting that shattered your world. Perhaps it came in the form of betrayal from a spouse or family member. Maybe you felt the breath of the lion on your neck in the words of a good-bye you were forced to say before you wanted to say it. Maybe it was when your supervisor told you not to come back to work tomorrow. I believe we have all heard the lion’s roar, though perhaps we have not realized it for what it was.
Today I heard the roar of the lion. I was instantly terrified, as paralyzed with fright as I had been when I heard the lion’s roar at my church. What do we do when we hear the lion’s roar? We have to remember what Scripture tells us who Jesus is in those moments. Listen to what was revealed to the apostle John in Revelation 5 :
“Do not weep! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed…”
My dear one, Jesus Christ, the Lion of Judah, will silence Satan’s roar in our ears through the power of our praise.
The name of the LORD is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe. (Psalm 18:10)
Beneath us are the everlasting arms that will never let us go. When the roar of the enemy of our souls comes to paralyze us, we must remember that our God has never left His throne. Nothing that is happening to us, however terrifying it may be, has not passed by Him first. If He has allowed the lion’s roar, it is always for His own great glory! Even though circumstances may be horrendous, we will find Him faithful through the trial. He is loving and faithful in all His ways.
Do we hear the lion in our ear? Let’s run to Jesus. He will save our precious lives from the lion’s jaws.
wDear Shawn,
I apologize (repent in sackcloth and ashes . . . don’t laugh at me) over having been so slow to read and respond to your blog entries. I started at the very beginning today and just finished reading through all of them. It took two pots of coffee. Your words have brought peace and rest to my troubled soul. Shawn, I’ve known you for almost 8 years now, but I feel like I have known you forever. You have a gift when it comes to expressing yourself through the written and spoken word. Your writing style is reminiscent of the old saints, like Amy Carmichael, deep and abiding, beautiful and poetic, yet relevant and practical for today. While reading your words, I had a memory return to mind of when I was a young girl growing up in the mountains of Oregon. There was a stream that ran through our land. A portion of it travelled underground, out of sight. I remember pressing my ear to the ground and trying to hear the underground stream. I wondered if it made a different sound under there, or if there were deep pools of water hidden below. I never was able to hear it, except in my imagination. Your words have caused me to hear that deep, underground stream. The deep well of life and love and knowing. The Ancient of Days who brings satisfaction to my soul. You are always in my prayers. I love you, Deb