Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Frenemy (02/13/25)
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TITLE: Iron Swords | Previous Challenge Entry
By Lynae Fisher
02/20/25 -
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Church bells ring. Swords are drawn. The battle begins.
Not all battles are fierce, life and death battles of good and evil. No, my friend, there is a time for friendly sparring as well. The type of battles meant not to tear down the barracks of the enemy, but strengthen the skill of allies. One such sword fight raged for seven days between my Pastor and me.
Now, my Pastor is quite the character. For some time, I had been hearing him say at church in his sermons and such, that he is soooooo old (despite the fact that he hardly had any gray showing until he burnt his scalp trying to dye it to look like some movie character). Meanwhile at youth group, he was always joking about being so perfect. The kids were merciless about that when he ripped his finger open. So one year, I made a birthday card —special for him.
On the outside of the card was written:
I know you’re trying to be like Jesus…
And on the inside:
Well, at least you got the Ancient of Days part right.
Later that night, I received a text from him saying: “Thanks for the card. I am actually like Jesus because I am so perfect….lol.”
I was ready for him. I shot back: “Job 32:1 ‘So these three men ceased to answer Job, because he was righteous in his own eyes.”
The battle was on. For seven vicious days, the battle raged. Scriptures were wielded like swords through the texts messages. On and on we battled. At last, he surrendered. One battle was over, but not the war.
Soon, the pre-Christmas season rolled around. Certain individuals had been caught listening to Christmas music before Thanksgiving. This practice the Pastor strictly forbids while trying to keep a straight face. On finding out that one of my friends had been listening to Christmas music early, he accused her to her face of rebelling against his leadership. I would not stand by while the innocent was attacked by the ruthless. I wrote him a letter.
Now, in this letter, I practically equated him to Herod for trying to snuff out Christmas. Of course, I had to really stretch my reasoning and take some things out of context to do it, but it turned out perfectly ruthless. I gave it to him Sunday morning.
When he got up to welcome everyone to church, he responded to my letter— from the pulpit, mind you— saying that as the Pastor, he was the spiritual leader of the church. Since he said that listening to Christmas music before Thanksgiving was against the rules, anyone who did so was ‘rebelling against authority.’ Sarcasm oozed from every word as he reminded us of the words of the prophet Samuel to King Saul, that rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft.
That week at youth group, we met again. Yet this time, we put our swords into our sheathes for a brief moment. Oh sure, he said with a grin on his face, that he “hated” me, but he admitted he was having a blast with the whole sword fight. Indeed, though some might have thought we were a bit cruel to one another, he thought it was quite funny. After all, we were both getting a lot of practice finding random verses in the Bible in a hurry to hurl at each other for any and every occasion.
It was at this meeting that we declared each other by the official title that has remained to this day. We love to hate each other. We love to keep each other on our toes. We sharpen our swords on the sword of the other, as iron sharpens iron. We are frenemies.
(based on true occurrences)
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