The yarrow has spread like crazy in my garden. It’s an ancient plant known for its ability to help stop bleeding. Achilles carried it into battle for his soldiers. That’s why it’s called achillea and also soldierswort.

In some wars, the battle plan involved maiming as many warriors as possible because caring for the wounded reduced the number of men available to fight. That was before warfare meant dropping bombs on children, before fighting for justice became fighting for personal peace alone and every man for himself became a default position. It was before fear became the commander-in-chief.

I watched a documentary about the War of 1812 in North America this week. The fort in Detroit fell without defending itself because the commander assigned to guard it was terrified of aboriginal Americans. He didn’t realize Tecumseh marched the same group of war-whooping men past his viewpoint five times. After cowering in his room, the guy who was supposed to lead the fight gave up without a fight. He lost the battle in his mind long before any foes showed up.

Since Jesus Christ rose from the dead after teaching his disciples to pray, “Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” the battle against the father of lies has been over. Christ has already won the victory. The enemy is defeated. Now its a matter of taking back occupied territory and restoring what has been stolen or destroyed. The weapons of this fight are not guns and bombs or fists or even tough negotiation. God’s weapons tear down lies that have kept souls prisoners of fear, those behind prison walls of despair, bereft of hope that healing or change is possible. The greatest battles take place in our minds.

I learned that another battle in the War of 1812 totally failed when troops became confused and started firing on each other. Sometimes people who mean well don’t listen well. In blind panic they start shooting their own. Sometimes, forgetting to ask God for more effective spiritual weapons or better strategies, soldiers leave the wounded behind. There are also those who pick up the weapons of the world and shoot hostages, rather than rescue them. Not-so-friendly-fire.

I wonder if there are more souls wounded by factious denominational tribalism who are crying out for help than ever before. Instead of stopping to care for them, other frightened troops are embarrassed by them. I’ve even heard “experts” say that some of the church-burnt and those wounded in the fight who are bleeding and acting out in pain, ought to be shunned to teach them a lesson. They question if they were ever really on “our side” anyway.

I wonder if most of the “mission field” in the Western world is made up of the casualties of spiritual abuse. Where the spiritual medics? Where are the healers carrying metaphorical yarrow of kindness and goodness to staunch the flow of blood?

Even winners can be wounded in the fight.

Two seemingly disconnected things caught my attention this week. Yarrow is a pretty flower in my garden. The War of 1812 was another of thousands of fruitless, selfish, pointless human skirmishes that accomplished nothing of lasting value. (The Americans captured Toronto, but the Canadians burned Washington, so in the end they simply traded them back.) but maybe we can still learn something from both of them.