It was the late ’80s. A guest was coming to Chapel—an international musician, a name known across the Christian world, and more importantly, my daughter Keri’s favorite: Michael W. Smith. She skipped school that day, rode with me to the airport, and sat behind us with quiet anticipation. Only later did I discover she had tucked a tape recorder under the seat, capturing every word, as if to hold onto a memory of a fleeting morning. She knew something special was unfolding. Years later, one of his songs—simple, pulsing like a heartbeat—brought me back. “This is how I fight my battles.” A repeated phrase, a cry, a creed. Not through sword or shield, but through praise. Through presence. Through faith. It summoned in me the vision of Isaiah 61—an epic chapter of beauty and protest, lament and renewal.
A Liturgy of Return and Praise
Isaiah 61 is no mere poem. It is a post-exilic manifesto. A song for the bruised and returning people of God. They had come back from Babylon—a generation unmoored from temple, from homeland, from memory.
- Jerusalem was in ruins, and its walls, infrastructure, and temple required massive rebuilding efforts (cf. Nehemiah 1–6).
- The economic situation was dire; the land had suffered neglect and fragmentation.
- There were deep social divisions between returnees and those who had remained in the land (the am haretz, “people of the land”), as well as tensions with neighboring communities.
- Religious identity was under reconstruction—questions of purity, covenant faithfulness, and leadership emerged in stark ways.
- The Davidic monarchy was gone, and although Zerubbabel (a Davidic descendant) offered some hope, he never became king.
- Those who returned came not as victors but as survivors—bearing the weight of absence, shame, and dislocation.
Into that wounded world, a voice is raised: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me…the Lord has anointed me…”
Isaiah 61 in three acts
This voice is not God’s thunder from on high. It is the human voice of one authorized to do God’s mending work in the rubble. The text unfolds in three movements—three sacred acts of divine reversal.
Act I: The Healing of the Broken v1
- To the poor, good news.
- To the broken-hearted, the balm of healing oil.
- To the captive, a key, and an open door.
- To those imprisoned—by grief, by sin, by exile—a word of release.
This is no abstract hope. It is social transformation—a spiritual uprising. The God of Isaiah 61 is not simply interested in personal piety but in the upending of injustice and the rebuilding of Jerusalem as their spiritual home.
Act II: The Jubilee and the Reckoning v 2
Here comes the echo of Leviticus 25: the year of Jubilee. Debts forgiven. Land restored. Slaves set free. And also, the “day of vengeance” of our God—a divine judgment not of wrath but of reordering. A reckoning against what dehumanizes. A holy justice for those long forgotten.
Act III: The Garment of Praise vss 3-4
Now the poetry swells—ash into beauty, mourning into gladness, heaviness into praise. Here in Jerusalem, a people return not just to rebuild walls but to recover identity. Widows, the marginalized women, are “seen.” The shamed are dignified. The fractured community receives a new name and purpose. They will be called “oaks of righteousness,” strong again, rooted again, dwelling in the land of the living.
These reversals are not only symbolic; they are structural, embodied, and communal. It is worship with calloused hands and hopeful hearts. Praise that sounds like hammers ringing against stone and laughter returning to the streets.
This is how we fight.
And so, back to the chorus: “This is how I fight my battles.” Praise is the weapon of restoration. Not denial, not escape—but a garment worn like armor, stitched with hope. Praise is the defiance of despair. It is the resistance song of a people who believe that the God who brought them back will also bring them through.
In the ruins of our lives—depression, addiction, heartbreak, shame—we too return. And the Anointed One meets us at the gates of home, offering the oil of joy, the dignity of being seen, the mantle of praise.
Jesus stood in his hometown synagogue, centuries later, and dared to say, “Today this Scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” Isaiah 61 wasn’t a relic. It was reality. Messiah was the One, stepping into the ruins and declaring that the time for healing had come. “The kingdom is near. The kingdom is here.”
And so, when we feel surrounded, we lift our eyes—not in denial of our battles, but in devotion within them. Because with the eyes of faith, we can say: “I am surrounded by You.” God meets us in our heartbreak; God does not dismiss us or the pain of our battles. Praise becomes the fabric of restoration. We all fight battles: depression, addiction, heartaches, heartbreak, broken and ruined walls, and a shattered identity. But God’s authorized One offers the surprise of renewal, the succor of healing, the promise of justice, all through the weapon of joyful praise.
This is how we fight.
With tears still drying. Hands still trembling. Voices rising in a crescendo of joyful praise.
Practice:
I invite you to go to YouTube: Michael W. Smith – Surrounded (Fight My Battles) [Lyrics]. Listen once. Then I invite you to write a brief word about your current “battles.” Where do you feel “surrounded?” What brings the tears of mourning, the ashes of grief, the despair of a spirit defeated in the trenches? List your battles.
Now, listen again, but this time, hold up your “journal of battles” as your act of praise. Claim the defiance of your faith in the face of the spiritual heaviness of sometimes overwhelming battles in your life. If you are able, lift each of the battles listed in your journal in prayer. Put on the garment of praise—sing if you wish, shed your tears if you need, and notice the garment on you, around you, over you: it is the garment of praise.
Close your time of practice with your own prayer, however you can. During the week ahead, return to “Surrounded (Fight My Battles) in the simple repetition of Michael’s song.
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Keith Anderson, D.Min., is a Faculty Associate for Spirituality and Vocation at VantagePoint3 and President Emeritus of Seattle School of Theology and Psychology. He is the author of several books, including his most recent: On Holy Ground: Your Story of Identity, Belonging and Sacred Purpose (Wipf & Stock, 2024). His other works include Reading Your Life’s Story (IVP, 2016), A Spirituality of Listening (IVP, 2016), and Spiritual Mentoring (IVP, 1999). In his writing, teaching, and mentoring, Keith seeks to set a table for people looking to enter the “amazing inner sanctuary of the soul” in the most ordinary and extraordinary moments of life.