I had the privilege of meeting a woman whose faith was legend in our little corner of southeast Asia. We couldn’t talk to each other. What I knew of her was through others. She had broken from her animist beliefs when news of the true fortress and security had been shared with her.  

Her husband came to faith after her and soon was diagnosed with cancer. I don’t know if his treatment was inadequate or too late but he soon died. His wife and a small group of believers arranged a Christian service. What that meant to them was unclear but they wanted it to represent his faith in the God that had prepared a place for him. 

The local animist villagers and leaders would not hear of it. It must be a Buddhist ceremony. Their attempts to stop her plans were to no avail. The day of the ceremony, as brothers carried his body to the burial spot, a group met the procession and stole the body. 

Her reaction? 

Disappointment over a destroyed precious plan? 

Righteous anger over the loss of a chance to honor her God and her husband? 

Moaning over injustice that no one would defend her right to have this ceremony in the way she and others wanted? 

Quick words of forgiveness to those who believe differently? 

More than these. 

“I’m sad but oh, the fear they must be feeling to make them do this. What a terrible life…fearing evil spirits that demand your obedience.”

She knew of these spirits and now saw the battle with new eyes. Not one against flesh and blood and preferences and traditions. But against the Most High Almighty who has overcome the world and in whom she had now found security and hope. 

“He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.” Psalm 40:2

Her story was convicting. Am I aware of the battle I face daily? Do I remember that He is at my right hand, a fortress, a shield, refuge, and rock on which my steps will be secure? Do I live as one described in the Swedish hymn, “more secure is no one ever than the loved ones of the Savior”?