The God Who Has Your Back
how Jesus fights for hearts that fight themselves
Like all of us in our ways, I can be pretty hard on myself. People tell me that, at least. The people who know me best. The ones who know the deep places of my heart. My dad has told me it a number of times. One of my closest friends, CJ, tells me all the time; he did so again just about a week ago. “Too hard on myself” was a clear theme during my season with Rick, my astonishingly good therapist. And Linda, my equally amazing spiritual director, echoed Rick’s sentiments when she guided me through the Ignatian Exercises about a year or so after that season of therapy.
Maybe they’re right. It just never feels that way to me.
Mostly, it feels like I’m just not doing enough. Mostly, it feels like I could be doing a lot better … at loving the people in my life … at being patient and gentle and kind. Mostly, it feels like I could be a much better friend to my friends, better brother to my sister, and better steward of our nonprofit ministry — shoot, better editor of this digital magazine! And then, of course, the biggie. It always feels like I could be more devoted to God and committed to spending time in his presence. Ugh.
All of these notions, conclusions, judgments and accusations float pretty much constantly in the back of my mind, and sometimes, they float to the forefront. But the words of my dad, CJ, Rick and Linda reverberate there too. So too do verses like, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1, ESV). So, around the issue of my “doing enough,” there’s tension in me. There’s a battle between what people tell me is true — and then what feels true to me.
Sunday mornings in my leafy hometown in Silicon Valley meant my family was at church. Our church was medium-sized, Presbyterian, and perched on a hill. I wouldn’t say it was thriving, but it had a certain momentum — young families, a fine pastor, picnics, vacation Bible schools, pancake breakfasts, and Christmas Eve services lit by flickering candles. And our family’s Sunday routine was simple. My parents would drop us at classrooms, walk down the hill to the sanctuary, then return an hour later.
I was two years old when we arrived in California from Colorado and began this pattern. My sister was five. As we got older, she and I and other kids would start in the sanctuary, stay for part of the service, then head upstairs for the rest of the hour. But in middle school, my parents offered us a choice: we could continue going to Sunday school or stay in the sanctuary for the entire service. We never went to Sunday school again — but we missed very few sermons. Mom and Dad saw to that.
Despite all those sermons over all those years, it wasn’t until decades later, when I came across Wild at Heart by John Eldredge, that something clicked for the first time. Eldredge made a simple claim that changed everything for me: there’s a war on. Not a metaphorical war. A real, sustained, daily assault — aimed at beating us down and making us lose heart so we never become who God made us to be.
John Eldredge, who has since become a true spiritual father and friend, teaches that we “were born into a world at war,” meaning the universe is in an “epic struggle of good and evil begun before the dawn of time.” But here’s something else Eldredge teaches: While the war is playing out in a massive theater of battle, one that cuts across time and space and between both the physical and spiritual realms, the most important battleground for any individual follower of Jesus is his or her own heart.
For though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds (2 Corinthians 10:3-4, ESV).
Satan and the powers of darkness actively oppose God’s purposes, so hostility, resistance, and sabotage are to be expected. The weapons of this opposing force are lies and accusations designed to confuse us and make us question ourselves and God, thereby separating us from God’s intimacy and love.
When we don’t appreciate and accept that a battle is raging, we conclude that losses, dashed hopes, and chronic pressures must be due only to personal failure (“I’m blowing it” or “Something’s wrong with me”) or divine abandonment (“Something’s wrong with God” or “He’s not even real”).
When we don’t appreciate and accept that a battle is raging — and that our hearts are battlefields — we don’t realize that in these skirmishes, we can be both friend and foe. You see, our enemy may whisper lies and accusations into our hearts (“for he is a liar and the father of lies” (John 8:44)), but we listen, accept and repeat those lies to ourselves. We give them access. We let them in, and we let them stay — even if they run counter to what Scripture says.
Thank God for Scripture. Thank God for my defenders. Thank God that my dad and CJ are in this fight with me. Thank God that Linda and Rick are, too, and have my back. But, truly, the greatest defender over the past couple of years has been Jesus himself — through his still small voice.
In quiet prayers, in prayers I didn’t know I was praying, the voice of Jesus has broken through, into my thoughts, saying things like, “Wait, I don’t agree with that.” Many times over the past couple of years, I’ve sensed him saying, in direct contradiction to my not-doing-enough notions and conclusions, “None of that is true.” And then, he’s actually offered examples that contradict my judgments and accusations: “What about this …? And what about that time …? And what about when you …?”
The idea of Jesus being my greatest defender is so contrary to how I viewed God for so long: as a judge, as a keeper of scores, as a disapproving father. But he’s not like that. He’s serious and strong, but he’s so good. He’s so kind.
Do you believe he’s your greatest defender, too?
Now, I need to be clear here. Jesus isn’t always just comforting and reassuring. He is sometimes disruptive and confrontational. He doesn’t avoid talking about mistakes, failures and sin. Sometimes, in his unfathomable kindness, he has to defend us against our addictions or unhealthy coping mechanisms. Sometimes, he saves us from the ways we hurt ourselves or others by helping us get healthy.
He and I have done a lot of work on those fronts — and will certainly have more to do in the coming years. It’s just that right now, in this current season, he’s been speaking a lot of reassurance and encouragement. For example, when I was recently dwelling on the fact that I wasn’t spending enough time in his presence. He broke in with this:
I think we’re spending a whole lot more time together than you think we are. Long ago, you invited me into your heart. So, I am here. And when you silence the noise of this world, when you are at rest, in the quiet moments, you hear my voice in your heart. You tell people how you aren’t praying enough, but are then able to tell them exactly what you think I’ve been saying to you. You are listening to me, Justin. You are sharing your heart with me. And I love it.
I get choked up whenever he defends me like that. I even got emotional at a Dim Sum lunch with Jenn a few moments ago, because she asked me what I was writing about today. It’s overwhelming, I think, because when I feel alone and in a downward spiral of self-criticism, his words in my defense are the only thing that can pull me out.
And they pull me out.
Do you believe he’s your biggest defender, too?
Hannah Whitall Smith wrote “Struggle To Receive God’s Comfort?”
Justin Camp wrote “The End We Know.”
Sample ➼ “Waking the Dead” by John Eldredge
Sample ➼ “Gentle and Lowly” by Dane Ortlund
Encounter ➼ “Your Day With Jesus”
Audio Experience ➼ “God’s Chosen Treasure”
Bible Reading Plan ➼ 30-Day Challenge
We updated Rapt’s ‘Best of’ lists this week. Lots of new stuff!
Kevin Burrell is the co-lead pastor of StoneBridge Church Community in Charlotte, North Carolina and an avid birder.
Kelly Kapic is an award-winning author, active speaker and holds an Honorary Chair at Covenant College in Lookout Mountain, Georgia.
Shannan Martin is the bestselling author of several books and the writer of her popular Substack, The Soup.
Sharon Miller is the author of four books and, with her husband, Ike, leads Bright City Church in Durham, North Carolina.
P.S. Who should we interview next? Click here to let us know. And what new question would you like us to ask them? Click here to submit your suggestion.
“I know your whole life story. I know every skeleton in your closet. I know every moment of sin, shame, dishonesty and degraded love that has darkened your past. Right now I know your shallow faith, your feeble prayer life, your inconsistent discipleship. And my word is this: I dare you to trust that I love you just as you are, and not as you should be. Because you’re never going to be as you should be.”
—Brennan Manning
Do you believe that God is your biggest defender? Do you feel like he’s the one who’s got your back, who will stand up for you when no one else will? Do you believe that he will defend you even against yourself?
We’re in this together, my friend, and I am very grateful for that.
Editor-in-Chief, Rapt Interviews & Wire for Men
Co-executive Director, Gather Ministries