Sometimes what you cannot see is more real than what you can.

There are mornings when you wake up expecting an ordinary day.

You pour a cup of coffee. You check your phone. You begin thinking about the day’s schedule.

Then the phone rings.

Or the doctor’s office calls.

Or someone you love says words you never expected to hear.

In a single moment, the ordinary becomes anything but ordinary.

If you’ve lived very long, you’ve probably had one of those mornings. I know I have.

Over the past several weeks, our church family has been carrying some heavy burdens. Hospital rooms. Surgeries. Unexpected medical emergencies. Families waiting on test results. Parents praying for children. People quietly fighting battles few others even know exist.

On top of that, our own family recently walked through the loss of my niece. She was only thirty-three years old. Watching someone so young suffer is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Yet even in our grief, there was a deep assurance because she belonged to Christ. We mourn, but not as those who have no hope.

I’ve learned something through all of this.

Sometimes the greatest battles in life don’t announce themselves. They simply arrive.

That reminds me of one of my favorite scenes in Scripture.

In 2 Kings 6, the prophet Elisha and his servant wake up one morning to discover that the Syrian army has surrounded the city during the night.

Imagine stepping outside your door and seeing enemy soldiers everywhere.

No escape.

No obvious solution.

No way out.

The servant panics.

“Alas, my master! What shall we do?” (2 Kings 6:15, NKJV)

Honestly, I understand his reaction.

Most of us would have said exactly the same thing.

When all you can see are problems, fear feels like the most reasonable response.

That’s true in our own lives.

Sometimes we become so focused on the diagnosis that we forget the Great Physician.

We become consumed with the financial burden and lose sight of the Provider.

We stare at the storm until we forget the Savior who walks on water.

Fear has a way of shrinking our vision.

But Elisha wasn’t looking at the army.

He was looking at God.

His response has encouraged believers for thousands of years.

“Do not fear, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” (2 Kings 6:16, NKJV)

Can you imagine hearing those words?

The servant must have thought, What are you talking about? It’s just the two of us!

Except…it wasn’t.

Then Elisha prayed one of the simplest—and one of the most profound—prayers in all of Scripture.

“LORD, I pray, open his eyes that he may see.” (2 Kings 6:17, NKJV)

Notice what Elisha did not pray.

He didn’t ask God to remove the army.

He didn’t ask God to change the circumstances.

He asked God to change the servant’s perspective.

Sometimes that’s exactly what we need.

How often have I prayed, “Lord, fix this”?

And perhaps the better prayer is, “Lord, help me see You.”

Because the greatest need in many of our battles isn’t immediate deliverance.

It’s remembering Who is standing with us.

When God opened the servant’s eyes, everything changed.

The Bible says,

“Then the LORD opened the eyes of the young man, and he saw. And behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.” (2 Kings 6:17, NKJV)

I love that picture.

Those heavenly armies didn’t suddenly appear.

They had been there all along.

The servant simply couldn’t see them.

I wonder how many times that’s been true in my own life.

How many accidents has God prevented without my ever knowing?

How many prayers has He answered behind the scenes?

How many times has He carried me when I thought I was carrying myself?

One day, when we’re finally home with Christ, I have a feeling we’ll discover that God protected us far more often than we ever realized.

That thought has encouraged me these past few weeks.

Not because life has been easy.

It hasn’t.

Not because every prayer has been answered the way I wanted.

They haven’t.

But because the Lord of Hosts—the Commander of Heaven’s armies—has not changed.

He has not stepped down from His throne.

He has not abandoned His people.

He has not stopped fighting for those who belong to Him.

Maybe that’s exactly what you need to hear today.

Perhaps your circumstances haven’t changed.

Perhaps the diagnosis is still there.

The grief is still real.

The future is still uncertain.

But God has not moved.

The same Lord who surrounded Elisha still surrounds His children today.

So maybe your prayer today isn’t, “Lord, remove the battle.”

Maybe it’s simply,

“Lord…open my eyes.”

Because here’s the truth I’ve been reminding myself of lately:

It may feel like you’re surrounded.

But if you belong to Christ, you’re not surrounded by the enemy.

The enemy is surrounded by your God.

And that’s enough to keep walking another day.

—

Pastor David,

Between Here and Heaven

Walking together toward the place where faith becomes sight.