Confronting spiritual warfare in the workplace.
by Christine Rhyner
“Every time you say, ‘God,’ I want to curse,” said Hector,* my fellow crisis hotline counselor. And he did, profaning the Lord’s name. I winced, no longer able to tolerate that language.
As I suspected, Hector’s hostility toward me had to do with God. In recent weeks at the office, he bumped into me with an air of disgust. He muttered under his breath whenever he saw me. I could hear his mention of “God” a few times.
Disturbing threat
“I want to strangle you and throw you out of a window,” Hector continued.
Sitting at the opposite side of the conference room table, I looked at him for some sign that he was joking. When I realized he was serious, my mind pictured Hector with his thick hands wrapped around my neck, squeezing the life out of me beside the third-story window.
All I could do was stare back in fear at his espresso-colored eyes, laser focused on me.
Provoking animosity
The moment I accepted Christ as Lord and Savior, the angels in heaven sang, while the devil shrieked.
Christian author Max Lucado has written, “One of the most potentially frightening aspects of being a Christian is knowing that when you put your trust in Jesus, all of Hell takes arms against you intending evil upon your life. And, yet what trumps that fear is knowing that, no matter what comes, God is the Master Weaver. He takes what was intended for evil and reweaves it for good.”
I wish I had known this truth early on. I was so new to having Jesus in my heart, I didn’t know much, like mentioning God could provoke animosity in others. But I didn’t yet have a church home or mentors to set me straight.
Constant witness
I accepted Christ through a co-worker at another workplace. This person told me I must evangelize all the time now. If I was sitting on a subway, I needed to witness to the person next to me. If I went to a restaurant, I must witness to the waiter.
According to the co-worker, even one minute in someone else’s presence is an opportunity for me to share the gospel message.
Fear of Hector
Our supervisor at the crisis center, Elaine, suggested I have a little chat with Hector, and I asked her to attend. She declined, despite my expressed fear of him.
“Hector is totally harmless,” she said, with a hint of irritation in her voice and a wave of her hand.
He didn’t sound harmless to me, but irrationally homicidal. Had she joined us, Hector wouldn’t have spewed such fantasies in front of her. Had he mentioned his struggle with my often mentioning God to callers at a Christian-based organization, she would have supported him instead. Elaine supervised our calls so that we provided only secular help.
Warning
Calling me up to her glass-enclosed office, where she could view all the staff, Elaine warned me countless times, “No proselytizing.” A scripture verse hung above her head that spoke of God making a covenant with His people.
I would glance at that sign and feel unsettled. This organization began as a means to reach out to runaway youth with the love of Christ. How was I to live out my faith if they refused to let me utter God’s name?
Restrictions
Elaine even prohibited me from talking about God if callers brought Him up themselves. I would hear her voice break into my headset, muting the call with instructions to redirect the caller to secular services.
It wasn’t uncommon for callers to express anger, disappointment, or resentment toward God for their situations. I simply wanted to help them see God in a true light as their hope, strength, and comfort.
And while I always provided appropriate resources to those in need of shelter, psychiatrists, or rehab programs, callers were not often receptive to them.
Conflicts
So I had no choice but to engage in my newfound duty to talk with callers about the Lord. This resulted in Elaine commanding me not to and Hector expressing contempt that I did. The conflict bubbled and brewed.
I struggled emotionally, shamed for being a rebellious employee who broke the rules. But I was also irritated that at a faith-based hotline I couldn’t talk about a God who transforms lives. I feared disappointing God, losing my paycheck, and missing the opportunity to witness to people needing help.
On top of all this, I contended with Hector’s seething contempt.
Spiritual war
All my appeals to Hector’s humanity — the part of him that, like me, took calls from hurting, confused, lonely souls — failed.
I learned that accepting Christ put me in the midst of an invisible spiritual war where the devil worked to drag me back into the pit that God had scooped me up from. But I took comfort in the truth that no one will snatch me out of His hand (John 10:28, 29) and that my name is engraved on the palms of His hands (Isaiah 49:16).
New insights
It wasn’t long before I left that job at the crisis hotline, knotted up with stress to the point of getting physically ill there.
As I regularly attended a good church and grew in my faith, I learned that the instruction I had received to evangelize at all times might have been a tall order. It’s not that God can’t use baby Christians to plant seeds in unbelievers, but I knew next to nothing about the Holy Spirit. We need to be in tune with Him for discernment to witness.
I didn’t understand how crucial prayer is before we put ourselves in situations of potential conflict. Or how we need the body of Christ to pray for us, just as we pray for them to lead people to the Lord. Neither was I well versed in the Scriptures.
Rather than fearing Hector, I could have spoken the Word proactively to address whatever God-hating spirit resided in his heart. I should have remembered Peter’s words: “Even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed. ‘Do not fear their threats; do not be frightened’” (1 Peter 3:14).
Blessing in suffering
Being rejected or hated because Jesus lives in us and because we want to tell others about Him means we can be grateful that God counts us worthy to suffer for His name. Acts 5:41 says of the apostles, “So they left the Council, rejoicing that they had been considered worthy [dignified by indignity] to suffer shame for [the sake of] His name” (Amplified).
If the apostles could rejoice after being flogged, surely I could have been thankful in the midst of Hector’s verbal venom.
Lessons
I know God didn’t regard me as the failure I saw myself to be during my spiritual infancy and naivety. He looked on me with compassion and promised to never leave or forsake me (Deuteronomy 31:6).
Persecution made me hungry for godly wisdom to understand and handle mistreatment. The Lord directed me to a church where older women mentored me. He developed in me discernment for churches and organizations that say they are one thing but are another, according to His Word.
He showed me that sometimes it’s necessary to develop rapport with others before sharing the gospel message with them. And He made me better equipped to deal with further persecution for my faith.
Changed life
That hunger changed my life. It has created opportunities to witness to and plant seeds in others in the midst of being disparaged for my born-again Christian faith.
Max Lucado is right. God, the Master Weaver, took what the enemy meant for evil and turned it for good.
* Names have been changed.
Scripture quotations are taken from the New International Version, unless otherwise noted.
Christine Rhyner is the author of How Much Did You Pay for Her? Forgiving the Words That Hurt Adoptive Parents (CLC Publications). Her writing has appeared in Faith on Every Corner, Moody Magazine, Boundless Webzine, Virtue, and other publications. Christine lives with her husband, John, in Port Charlotte, FL.