"For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood...."

On Sunday morning, as the early light was beginning to peek around my curtain and as I lingered in a half-dream, the nagging, hated feeling came back. Dread. Heaviness. And a thought: "You have to go on the streets again today."

I am called to the streets, to love the broken people I find there and to point them toward Jesus. When I am walking the dirty sidewalks of Troy, I walk, study each face, pray, and know a joyful serenity that can only come from the Holy Spirit burning inside of me.

But there is a war every time to get there. Hannah and I have talked about them, the voices that tell us we can't make a difference: What can two brand new priests do? You're alone. You'll do more harm than good. You don't really love them. There is no hope in a city that has known so many generations of despair and pain. Give up. Go find a real church where you can really uses the gifts God has given you.

And I know this isn't the voice of God. Sometimes it's my self-doubt, and sometimes it's a demonic whisper in my ear, appealing to my fear or to my ego. And in those times, I breathe the Jesus prayer. Or read a Psalm. Or, calmly and firmly, rebuke the voices with the only authority I have -- as a reborn child of my Father God, sprinkled with blood from the Eternally Begotten Son.

So it was again on Sunday. The nagging. A quiet prayer. And up, to worship, eat lunch, prayer walk, and hang out in the park with whoever our Father would send to us.

Our prayer walk led us to a part of town we don't often visit -- a part with a lot of Hell's Angels activity. It was a dead-end street with eyes in every window. As we prayed, I envisioned Christ on the cross, dying for the men who drove nails through his hands and feet. The Lord laid down his life for those men. He poured himself out for the Hell's Angels and for all who have loved the darkness instead of the light.

There is no doubt the powers of hell want me -- and every child of God -- dead. There is no way to measure their hatred. And, I am sure that some people in Troy have pledged themselves as allies of the darkness and enemies of the kingdom of God.

But, they are not my enemies. They are those who Christ died for. Beloved of God.

"For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places."

Lord Jesus, break my heart for those who follow death as their shepherd. Fill me with a restless love that seeks to bless them. And Lord, give me the courage to resist every spiritual principality and power, standing firmly in the strength of your might.