Ezer:  A Hebrew military word for strong warriors who stand alongside their brothers in the battle for God's Kingdom.

Sunlight streaming through my window nudged me out of bed. "Come on," the sun seemed to whisper. "Get up. Keep moving."

I walked down the road in my neighborhood and became attracted to a field of neon-green grass, wet with dew and gleaming in the morning light. An enormous white tent sat in the middle of the grass. Tables and chairs sheltered under its width. Paper plates and cups lay strewn on table tops, plastic forks and knives askew across the plates. A  huge barbecue cooker, its lid open, stood next to the tent. "My neighbors must have had a sumptuous feast last night," I said to myself. I stayed and observed the tent for a few minutes and thought that it reminded me of a concept I've been dwelling on. Battle.

A television series, Outlander, that I've recently binged-watched, has contributed to my thoughts as well. There are numerous battle scenes in the show. In these depictions of combat, warriors move in on the enemy and cut them down with their swords, eyes ablaze with a mixture of fear and savage determination. Then when they return to camp, the soldiers sit around campfires and drink and eat, swapping stories, their faces streaked with grime, blood on their sleeves. 

The Scriptures tell us, For the battle is not yours, but God's. (2 Chronicles 20:15). I've wondered lately what this really means. I found the term "ezer" in my reading this week. The definition captivated me. And suddenly I had a better handle on the verse. Even when God comforts me that the battle is His, not mine, it does not mean that I am not called upon to be a warrior in the battle, although I often protest. I resist. But if one lives in this world, there is no getting out of the war zone; it's all around us.

I think of my band of fellow warriors that the Lord has gifted me to fight alongside in the battle for His Kingdom. There are numerous enemies that we contend with--financial pressure, job stressors, negative mind sets, shame, marital and parenting struggles, loss and grief, medical challenges, cultural and poliical strife--the list could go on to infinity. Yet God sets up a tent where we can feast, swap stories of victory, create and strategize new battle plans. Laugh. Lift our cups to heaven and rejoice.

The great tent erected in my neighborhood reminded me of God's faithfulness in battles we must engage in. After the fight, He provides a place to regroup and replenish. A place of shelter in the warmth of fellowship. In my pocket I carried a personal communion cup. I lifted the plastic covering and removed the wafer. I held it up to the sky, now clear and blue. "Thank you, Jesus, for your sacrifice, that ensures victory. I drank the cup, lifted once again toward heaven. "Grace. Your grace upon grace. Thank you that you make me an ezer in the company of your great Kingdom."