Jack Dempsey, Joe Louis, Muhammad Ali are names that are familiar to those whether or not you follow boxing. To become champions such as they were and legends as they are, they have had to throw many punches and learn how to throw them correctly. They have also had to learn how to take shots as well. They perfected body blows and right hooks, uppercuts, and left jabs. Imagine the hours of training and practice on the body bags in the gym. Thursday, I felt for those inanimate objects that have been repeatedly beaten on by those and others. Thursday, I felt like Satan’s punching bag. I felt with each step I took I was being punched right in the heart. My gut felt each blow, and the life just leaked out of me slowly. I feel this way when I have had a God day within recent days. My God day was on Wednesday.
I felt His love and guidance in my heart and soul. He was my trainer, and I felt like I could not be beat Wednesday. I gave hope through spreading God’s word to a patient who so desperately needed it. She had no hope when she had awakened Wednesday morning. I talked of God wanting her to keep her eyes on Him otherwise she would drown. She was already drowning. I talked to her about how God believes that she was someone worth dying for. I talked to her about God creating her with His own hands, and that she is so very worthy because she exists. She let me know that by the end of her family therapy and her individual therapy, she was once again hopeful. God was in my corner on Wednesday, and I knew it. I felt pride in being able to speak to her about Him however broken those stories may have been. I do not know God’s word well enough to rattle off scripture and verses and chapters. I do, however, find myself fond of Psalm 18 for multiple reasons, but that part of the Bible just gives me hope, and I knew I had to share that with her. I wrote down “Psalm 18” for her, and she said, “well, then that’s where I’ll start.” I’m in training, and God is in my corner. He’s my Coach. He’s my biggest fan. He knows my biggest opponent, uh, outside of myself.
Satan entered the ring to spar with me Thursday. He was winning with each massive blow to what was Wednesday. I felt that Satan was replacing my God day that was still inside of me with a pile of destructive nothingness. Imagine what it looked like that horrific day in NYC when the WTC buildings had fallen into ruins. That is what I felt like inside on Thursday. I felt any feelings of pride were being shot down by guilt and shame. I was waiting for each round to end, so I could get some good, clean breaths. Satan had already been attacking my physical being with illness and pain, but at this point, he was attacking my spiritual well-being. It sounds like I knew this was happening when it was, but it was not until I explained the nothingness that I was feeling to someone else that it was brought to my attention. I know that Satan likes to use me as his punching bag. I know he enjoys throwing cheap shots and low blows. I know, however, that I will always win with God in my corner. Every single word that leaves my mouth worshipping God is a TKO to Satan. The day I leave this Earth, and I ascend into Heaven because I will have eternal life, I will have my legitimate KO against Satan. Keep punching on me, Satan. I refuse to go down. I am already a heavyweight champion in His eyes.