Don Quixote was having a rough time.
If you've read the book, then you know. Dude was crazy. He was so certain, so sure that giants were coming to take the land. Don Quixote was the only one courageous enough to take them on, and if he was going to do it alone and die trying, so be it. In the process, the giants gave him the beating of his life. His exit from the situation was humiliating, and he was off to nurse his wounds alone. Perhaps another day, in another time. The battle will commence. He will claim the victory, and rescue the peasants. The crowds will celebrate his bravery. Generations to come will listen to the tale of the hero that is Don Quixote. There's a problem though, a detail that changes everything.
They weren't giants. They were windmills.
The man of La Mancha was excellent at moving forward in bravery. He exuded tenacity. His willingness to dive in to a noble cause was certainly admirable, even heroic. But he was also foolish. His perception skewed just enough to get his butt kicked. The enemy was grossly and incredibly mis-identified.
And that's why I am so done with Fifty Shades of Grey.
That's why I was so done with the Duck Dynasty debate. That's why I was so done with the Chi-fil-e debacle. That's why I don't care to argue about evolution, or try to find articles in Focus on the Family to prove I'm right about whatever soapbox is trending at the moment. Why? Because the people who stand behind them aren't the enemy. They, too, have been mis-identified.
We are so ready to argue, guys. Why?
I learned something amazing about the story of Esther this week, something I had never bothered to notice before. Esther was an amazing lady. We read her story and simply see a queen in the right place at the right time, but she was so much more. By Yahweh's might she was cunning. Clever. Brave. Wise. Intelligent. Patient. Bold. Because of her, an entire race was saved.
And let's be honest here: she had every reason to be indignant about her situation. Through no choice or act of her own, an orphan from Susa became part of a harem, belonging mind and body to a man-child who fired his queen in a drunken stupor. The very man who had the power to kill her if she came to see him uninvited. The very man who was going to enact genocide because his right hand guy thought it might be a good idea. This is the reckless governing she was up against, and when a plot to murder the Jewish people became imminent it was these prideful but powerful weirdos that she had to convince.
Here's the thing, though...while Esther was beautiful, she was also a strategist. Her purpose was dangerous. She didn't have time to waste getting self righteous about free speech and the opinions of others. Esther calculated, fasted, planned, and prayed. She planned meals, establishing trust and comraderie. The fact that she saved the king's life before served as a deliciously useful trump card. She listened to the guidance of the godly. She approached all in humility because she knew that was the only way her words could make any kind of difference. The whole thing was a chess match, from beginning to end. The king was not the enemy here. He was the weapon.
Don't misunderstand. There is value in identifying sin, and seeing it for what it is. But we forget the kind of battle we are in. We just sort of charge in with guns ablaze, firing scripture and snark in a haphazard manner. The more we make it about our rights, our defense, our free speech, and our opinions, the more we look and sound like the infants we are. This is not what spiritually mature people do. The people on the other side of the picket lines are not the enemy. The Enemy is the Enemy. We must stop going after windmills.
A dear friend and mentor not only taught me the difference between condemnation and edification, she excelled in it. I'm still learning, and can only hope to get on her level some day. And the truth she would constantly speak over me is that we do not struggle against flesh and blood. We aren't home. We are at war. The more we hyperfocus on arrows of the enemy, the less we remember the gospel. In the end, it's just a book. It's just a contract. It's just a sandwich. It's just a theory. They will fade as the years pass. What disciples are we making in the meantime?
We were born for such a time as this. Please, please don't waste it.
