So we have this fabulous bulldog named Herschel (after the great UGA running back, Herschel Walker. I mean, what else could his name be?). He doesn’t do anything. Just sleeps. All day. Gets up to eat and go to the bathroom, but that’s about it. I can still drag him into a wrestling match on occasion, but he will never initiate. He’s just a big 70-pound brick of an animal.
He’s usually pretty cooperative, but when he doesn’t want to do something, chances are it’s just not going to happen. He’s not tall, but his 70 pounds is solid and he’s as strong as an ox. My sister was horrified with his dog breath, bought Herschel a dog toothbrush and toothpaste, enlisted Beau for backup and made a go at it. All I heard was lots of cussing from Ali and laughing from Beau. It was not to be. Brad and I tried to tag-team him once to get drops in his eyes and it almost ended our marriage.
Another time I brought him home from the vet in the back of the swagger wagon. When we got home and he would not get out. You have to lift him in and out, which is no easy task even when he lets you. I opened the trunk door and reached for him. He threw all of his weight down and as far away from me as possible, against the back seat. He was immovable. I seriously struggled with him for five minutes until Brad got home and then handed the task off to him.
He’s always an interesting addition to my Tuesday night Bible study. Sniff and snort on the food, rub up against people’s purses or work pants, sit on people’s feet. One night, I was closing us in prayer, storming the gates of heaven in intercession for a suffering friend when he decided to very loudly pass gas. On those interactive nights, I usually put him out because he’s too distracting.
In our old house, the living room had no door and neither did the kitchen, so I had to get creative. I herded him into the kitchen and blocked the doorway with a couple dining room chairs. He could have easily moved them out of his way whenever he wanted, but he didn’t know that. It was a bluff and he went for it. For a few weeks anyway. Then one night, I heard the scraping of the chairs on the floor and groaned. The jig was up. He bulldozed right through that false barrier and rejoined the group.
Ever since then, obstacles haven’t really been obstacles to him. I’ve actually been sitting IN a dining room chair during a meal, with Herschel under the table and he’s moved ME to get out. If there’s a narrow space between furniture that he wants to get through (God forbid he walk AROUND it), he just lowers his shoulder like a linebacker and charges. Coffee tables, ottomans, people, it’s all movable.
I remember hearing about how they used to train elephants for the circus. They would capture a baby elephant and tie him to a stake in the ground. The baby would pull and pull against it, but it wouldn’t move, so eventually he would give up and just stay put. So sad.
But what’s even sadder is what happened when the baby would grow up. He would still be tied to that tiny little stake in the ground as a massive 4-ton beast. Everybody knew that puny little rope and stake could no longer hold him if he wanted to get away. Everybody except the elephant. I mean, he had tried it before as a baby and it didn’t work (apparently an elephant never forgets). So there he would stay, that mighty, majestic animal, held captive by a bluff.
Satan is real. (He made that VERY clear the last two weeks during the writing and publishing of this post. Don’t even get me started.) He is not the evil equivalent to our good God (not even close), but he is real. He’s real and powerful and brilliant and vicious. He hates God and he knows, just like we all do, that the best way to hurt a Father is to hurt his child. So guess what? He hates us too. And for some reason, God has temporarily given him permission to wreak havoc in this world we live in. And he does. And he likes it.
If our own sin doesn’t cause us enough pain and brokenness, we also have to deal with an enemy who sets traps, leads us astray and attacks ruthlessly. He’s a patient predator who has spent his entire existence studying humanity, learning our individual and corporate weaknesses so he can exploit them for our ultimate destruction. He’s just so mean.
The Bible describes him in many ways, but the thing he’s best known for is his deceit. He’s an impressive liar, the father of lies, Jesus called him. Some people lie and your inner BS alarm sounds and you immediately know they’re full of it. Not Satan. He’s a shockingly convincing liar and I’ve bought what he’s been selling more times than I care to recall.
God doesn’t really love you, you know. You better look out for yourself.
Forget the cross. What you did is unforgiveable and you have to live with it. Don’t call yourself a Christian or talk about Jesus. You’ll just embarrass Him.
That’s not really a sin. Maybe it is for weaker people. But you’re strong. You can handle it. God just calls it that to scare you and keep you from having fun.
Why do you keep killing yourself to take the high road? If they play dirty, you can play dirty too.
You’ve got this under control. No need to involve God or search the Bible for answers. Just follow your heart.
Things will never get better. YOU will never get better. Just get used to the fact that you’re a failure and life will always be this hard.
Don’t ask God for that. That’s too much. Who do you think you are? He’s not going to answer you anyway. He probably isn’t even listening.
The worst part is, I agree with him on a lot of his lies. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between my thoughts and his voice. I have been known to fully cooperate until I have no clue who I am or WHOSE I am. The cross becomes just a historical event and God’s grace just a nice, comforting idea with no real power. It’s terribly embarrassing.
I recently came across a wonderful verse in James that I had forgotten about: Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Oh yeah. I can RESIST him. I don’t have to fold under the weight of his lies. If I resist him, he’ll flee. Lower my shoulder, call his bluff, and he has to bail.
What obstacle are you facing? It could be a mountain that God wants you to climb to build your strength and your faith. Or it could just be a dining room chair, a bluff gift wrapped for you from the father of lies. Lower that shoulder and charge into it, by the blood of the Lamb and the word of the testimony (Revelation 12:11).
And that thing that’s holding you captive: Is it something that was stronger than you earlier in your life? Maybe you pulled and pulled against it for a long time and it never released you. Today could be the day. Lower that shoulder and charge that prison door like your life depends on it. If you are a child of the King, all spiritual captivity is a bluff to you. You are free indeed (John 8:36). Don’t live one more moment as a prisoner.
And remember, isolation is one of Satan’s favorite and most effective bluffs. Burn this truth on your heart: YOU. ARE. NOT. ALONE. Don’t let the enemy shame you into silence when you need help the most. He’s terrified of team efforts, support groups and prayer partners. You know why? Because THEY WORK. Even if you just want to shoot a cry for help into cyberspace, email me. I got bucked off my high horse a long time ago and have the limp to prove it. You are not alone.
Herschel won’t be around forever. He’s seven, which is old for a bulldog. He can’t see that well, his hearing comes and goes. But he’s taught me two important lessons: First, stand firm and let nothing move you (1 Corinthians 15:58). Second, know your strength and do not be held captive by a bluff (1 John 4:4).
Preach it, Herschel.
