These canvas walls of my tent are all the protect me here in the desert. On the other side of the hill, my enemies plot against me. By their fires they sharpen their swords and draw up plans in the dirt on how to weaken my defenses and hold me captive. They will not keep me prisoner for long because the evil one’s goal is to destroy – to wipe me from the face of the earth and lower me down in forever-death to his domain. My shield and my sword I keep at the ready, next to my small bed of blankets. But it’s the Sword of the Spirit that gives me most comfort. This war ends in your victory. The apostle John reveals this to us, and yet each of your soldiers has their own story to live out. You know how each of those ends too – which ones of us strap on your armor and shield ourselves from our hidden attackers. I pray my name is written in your Book of Life and that one day I am able to look over your shoulder and see it there, among the apostles, the saints, and your lowliest servants whose names are unknown. I pray that you help me rise through the ranks of your army by humbling myself and focusing on your work and your word. I meditate on your book before putting my head down for the night and before the sunlight wakes me through the thin material of this tent. You are the only sure protection in this world, Lord. Only you can keep the enemy from rushing in and catching us by surprise. I feel your presence over all these men in battle now. Over our camp, day and night. When the battle wages again tomorrow, let me pick up your shield, my sword, and the Spirit words that cut even deeper into the hearts of men.