“The kingdom of heaven is like a person who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat and went away.” (Matthew 13:24, 25)
While Africa slept, the tip of a thorny mimosa root pushed around a cassava tuber. Its sinister goal—shared by thousands of pale tendrils—was to choke the cassava plants to death.
By morning light, I admired the communal garden beside the airstrip in Calabar, Nigeria. I never suspected the savagery hidden underfoot. Nigeria is home to one in five Africans. To exist, the people farm cassava anywhere they can. This white fleshed staple keeps them alive, but not if thorny mimosa kills it first.
Most people don’t suspect the invisible war waged against Christians. We hear about the odd demon manifestation or the detestable rites of Satanists, and these are indeed too pervasive. But the real harm from the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms is done while we sleep, that is, while we’re not paying attention.
A tendril of fear, a root hair of doubt, a vine of materialism stretches around our convictions, and closes so gradually we don’t notice. From the outside, everything looks green and harmonious, but a ruthless war is underway. Hatred and pride are weeds looking to destroy our faith. These are not random, unguided events. Living demons, foul spirits playing for the opposing team, strategize how they’ll sneak ideas into our heads that strangle our love of Christ.
As much as I hate the chore of weeding, the garden must be worked daily. Thankfully, I don’t labor alone. The Master Gardener tugs a flaw, then looks to me. I nod permission and he whacks it off. Working in harmony with him, I have a fighting chance against the weeds of my heart.
Prayer: Lord Jesus, uproot whatever the enemy has sown in me.