I like to think of myself as a dinner bell for the spiritually hungry — one who speaks revelation from heaven in words that brings clarity to hard-to-understand truth. I’ve spent my whole life searching the scriptures. Yet, in love and care for others, I have found myself at the tip of the spear — speaking truth, piercing the skin and sometimes drawing blood, being the bad guy in the room.
When my children and grandchildren call and ask for prayer, I tell them I’ll pray. But I also ask whether they want the truth. “I don’t know whether you are ready to hear something you do not want to hear.”
But if they are hungry enough, desperate enough, that truth becomes the tip of the spear — going deep, piercing through resistance and bringing what is hidden into the light. When they receive it, there is a strange relief from opening that festering wound so healing can begin.
This is often the way of mothers and grandmothers. We see our children in danger and we speak up. I have finally learned to stop apologizing when truth is involved. I seem to live at the front edge of difficult, even dangerous, insight — trying to be understood, because it is necessary for spiritual growth.
“… If any among you strays from the truth, and one turns him back, let him know that he who turns a sinner from the error of his way will save his soul from death, and will cover a multitude of sins” (James 5:20, NASB).
I’ve taken that risky step and broken through the barrier. I know truth can damage a relationship and make things uncomfortable, but if I know the truth in love, I’m being kind. I may pray for months for the right moment, waiting until I have peace in my heart that I’m doing what is right.
The phrase “tip of the spear” sounds harsh. It began in 1941 as a military metaphor for the frontline units making first contact with the enemy and breaking through the adversary’s first line of defense. For 85 years, the units of the 2nd Marine Division functioned as the tip of the spear, giving courage to those who come after them.
Recently, I watched a video on YouTube called “The Incredible Story Behind Christian Film Director Alex Kendrick.” At the end, he said that our legacy is in front of us.
A new concept for me, his words resonated. I had always thought of legacy as something handed down from the past — an ancestor, a predecessor, a life already lived. But if our legacy is in front of us, then our true legacy is the enduring impact of how we are living now. Not today, but one day, my children and grandchildren will thank me for making their lives fuller.
Over the years, my granddaughter has signed different art projects with words such as, “To my grandma, who is my inspiration.” I was simply living my life, never realizing I was handing her a legacy to follow. What I have given her is who I am.
And who I am is that tip of the spear.
As a follower of Jesus, there are times when He presses me hard to speak the truth. Many times, I did not want to upset the situation. But if we hide the truth from the children we are meant to guard, we do them a disservice. We worry about the consequences of truth more than we worry about opening their eyes. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it draws blood. Maybe it means we love them too much to let them be destroyed by the enemy of their own soul.
Final brushstroke: Our legacy is in front of us. One day, Jesus will drink from his inheritance in our children. “Yet He himself will drink from his inheritance as from a flowing brook; refreshed by love he will stand victorious!” (Psalm 110:7, TPT).
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