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“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.” (Ephesians 6:12)
As many times as I have read the verse written above, only recently have I truly seen the full ramifications of it in not only my life, but in the lives of those around me. On Sabbath afternoon, January 17th, I saw this campus for what it really is: a warzone.
Mr. Gavin asked if I would be willing to sit in on a group session, and having nothing scheduled for the afternoon, I was more than willing to join. It started slowly with the usual frivolity of most parties involved, attempting to veil their discomfort at the idea of “opening up.” By the time we’d gone halfway around the circle, I was stupefied to discover that ever one of the boys in the group had at some time in the not-so-distant past communicated with evil spirits—whether through just praying to the devil or, in one case, actually speaking with demons. I recalled the time I had once prayed to the devil, and it took me a moment to understand that it’s not as much of a rarity as some would believe.
As the group time continued, I found myself in the midst of a battle—visible to myself if no one else—with the powers of darkness. Just as progress seemed to be made spiritually, some distraction would come, or someone would crack a joke. I began silently praying with increasing fervency that the spell of the evil one would be broken.
As we prepared to end our time together we each said prayers over the individuals involved. My heart began to fill with gladness as I believed the battle was over. But I was wrong
Satan mounted a final attack, and while we were praying, some began to lose focus and the spirit of irreverence and foolishness spread from one to another. As I began my prayer, a deep vexation came over me and midway through the prayer I broke away and told one of the boys, “Get out.” The others quickly halted the frivolities and jestings and I finished praying.
When all was said and done, I walked out of the room and caught eyes with the boy I’d so harshly sent out. A conviction came over me that I should not have sent him away. As I spoke to him about it, I could see that he had been wounded by my action, and I confessed my fault and asked him for his forgiveness. He responded that, “It takes a real man to admit when he’s wrong.” And from there, we were cool. In the ensuing moments, a conundrum arose in my mind. How is it possible to be doing the Lord’s work, through prayer and the laying on of hands, and at the same time lose connection with God to the extent of grieving the spirit of another? “What is this madness?” I asked myself over and over. “Am I really who and what I think I am? Or is this a farce? Mustn’t it be if I allow the flesh to take over while attempting to do the work of the Spirit? Am I striving in my own strength?”
Questions to no end. I still don’t have the answers; I just knew what I had to do. I called the group back together and asked the forgiveness of all for having misrepresented Christ by my rash action.
I don’t have the answers. I just see the warzone more clearly. It’s a battlefield where you can shoot one of your allies while trying to set another one free. It’s a battlefield where you lose unless you are fully committed to, connected to, and driven by the Holy Spirit.
And this “Camlan,” this combat zone, this arena of supernatural inter-cosmic warfare is where I have chosen to live.
May God have mercy upon me.
Things have gotten interesting in the past 24-hours. Yesterday I was seriously challenged by one of the kids here in what could have become a heated altercation as it involved shouting and cursing, but it was quickly quelled. Today started with a 2-3 hour mop-the-floor-my-way-or-doing-it over-again session. I had an unfair advantage though since I realized that he had no other options but to obey me. It was just a matter of giving more consequences until the only choice became clear to him. Later I gave my first assignment to the same student who broke his social restriction.
The highlight of the day had to be when one of the older boys thought it would be a delightfully fun thing to do to come up behind me and attempt to put me in a full nelson. It wasn't. He ended up getting dropped in a matter of seconds on the tile floor with me riding him all the way down. All who witnessed the event grilled him for being so quickly dropped by someone with a gimpy knee. I didn't maliciously slam him; it was just an instantaneous reflex. He shook it off and "pounded it" (hit the rock) to affirm good will between us. Less than two minutes later another poor soul, who did not witness his friend's earlier misfortune, attempted a similar feat and met the same fate. He was then grilled by all who had seen me drop the last fellow a moment earlier.
I kind of wonder if things like this make me a legend or a target. I'd like to stick with the legend idea, but knowing these boys, anything is possible. Now here I sit in the office of the boy's dorm wondering if there's anything else I could wish for. I've got an awesome job, an even more awesome family, and an infinitely more awesome God.
This is the life.
Perhaps you are taken aback by the title fragment on the line above. Seemingly uncharacteristic of an English major, isn't it? Answer 1: Even the mind of an English major thinks in fragments from time to time. Answer 2: Before we graduated, they told us that we were allowed to use fragments so long as we knew they were fragments and did it for a significant reason. The interesting question behind the fragment is one that the greatest minds of the world have pondered before undertaking anything. Even the not-so-great minds have a habit of asking if the outcome outweighs what it requires. After having hypothesized, some hesitant soul reaches a conclusion and acts. Yet, even the most forward-thinking, perceptive, brilliant mind must take a moment to reevaluate the situation after having acted upon the final hypothesis. My point? I'm not only normal for doing what I do, but perhaps also prudent to do so. Today, having not just tested the waters but having been fully immersed in the new position at Miracle Meadows, I began to ask myself the same question. Here I am, working in the middle of nowhere trying to help kids who appear to not only have no desire to be helped but present a resentment for the implication of my presence that perhaps they do need help. Earlier in the day a student began comparing me to other staff members, stating that I am the best one there (for clearly biased reasons) and predicting that I would eventually hate the school but would never leave because I don't ever give up. It's funny how kids have their own little way of giving their expectations all the while trying to pass them off as reality. (Looks towards the clock—poised at 11:56PM—and slaps forehead muttering, "Focus, man! Focus!") But, I must digress. Worth it? The answer came this evening as I had a conversation with one of the older students. It started with him just asking about me and my background, seeing that we'd never really conversed seriously. The discussion then turned when he began asking what I learned at the ARISE Institute—from which I just recently graduated. I told him of all the classes and the things we studied in the Bible. He then asked about prophecy and just what the Bible says is still left to transpire before the Second Coming of Christ. I led him through some passages I could think of off the top of my head that have not yet been fulfilled, and from there, the conversation grew. In the end, the heart of the discussion was a follow-up to the biblical view of Judgment Day. We talked about what God is really looking for in His people and how we, knowing the standard, seek to meet it in our own strength—which always proves to be wholly inadequate. I then showed him the man of Romans 7, who has the desire to live a Godly life but, while serving God with the mind, finds his actions inconsistent with his desire. As I talked with the young man, he completely identified with that frustration and expressed the desire to escape from it. Before bedtime arrived, I was able to share with him some simple methods from scripture through which he can begin to unite his actions with the Godly aspirations of his heart. As he was walking away to retire for the evening, he said, "Thank you," and then asked if we could talk more tomorrow. Worth it? Yes. These few days in the wilderness of Salem, WV have not been the easiest in my life—more like some of the most challenging. Tonight I ask myself, is it really worth it? It is. If that is the most I ever get to minister to the students while I am here, it is still worth it, but I speculate that this is only the beginning. Worth it? More than worth it.
Hello to all. As you may have guessed, I miss you all a lot.
I just arrived to my new job as dorm staff at Miracle Meadows School (a boarding school for at-risk youth in WV) two evenings ago. Last afternoon began my "Two Weeks of Hell," as it has been called by the staff. The basic idea is that I'm working 2 weeks straight in the dorm (336 hours in all) to see what I'm made of. Being nearly 24 hours into it, I see why they call it what they do.
Naturally, this endeavor has been accompanied by intrepidity and and anxiety--intrepidity in that I'm doing something I've never done before on a scale that I've never even imagined, and anxiety being the natural result of uncertainty. The only certainty in my mind at present is that the Lord has called me here, and keeping that in mind, I press on.
One passage of scripture has been indelibly etched in my mind since I decided to come here; Philippians 3:7-14
But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith--that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.
Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
Coming here, I realize that though I have a decent amount of knowledge and experience in a lot of things, I cannot rest on that, but rather I must consider all my accomplishments as worthless in order to reach the level upon which the Lord is calling me to minister here at MMS.
Your prayers are and will continue to be much appreciated.
Much love to you all,
-The Middleton