“Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” 1 Peter 5:8
Your adversary….. prowls around….seeking someone to devour. As I took the above picture, these words hammered through my mind like sharp staccato notes. A truck raced across on an ever-shrinking gravel roadway, which was being swallowed up by the incoming tide. I wasn’t certain the truck would make it across (it did!).
The road, only passable during low tide, attaches the mainland to a small tourist island. During the summer season, tourists can visit the famous island as long as the road is accessible. As I watched the truck strive to outrun the waters, I guessed that these tourists started back across the road toward the mainland thinking that, even though the tide was rising, they still had plenty of time to cross. Then, somewhere along that path, the tide hastened its charge. Watching this narrow escape play out before me reminded me of my own, and I shivered as I replayed that close call of so many years ago.
The Bay of Fundy is located between two Canadian provinces, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. The force of the mighty Atlantic Ocean is pressed into the narrow channel between these provinces twice each day. As a result, the shores along the Bay of Fundy see the highest tides in the world—a powerful force as it crashes onto rocky, rugged cliffs and shores along the land’s edge. Yet at its lowest tide, as the cold waters are far off shore, distant and quiet, the waves lap gently. Low tide is a welcome reprieve from the wild, crashing waves and restrained spaces of high tide, and offers a sandy expanse which entices beach combers to dip their toes in the shallow edges of the bay.
These shores are my favorite place to visit. Here I like to sit high upon the rocks above the sandy shore and watch the waves ripple below. I remember the day I was perched on a rocky crag, soaking up the sunlight and breathing the crisp ocean air. My kids giggled and squealed from the jagged peninsula below me, leaping from rock to rock in search of crustaceans and other unusual critters resting in the tidal pools. We were lulled to complacency by the enjoyment of it all until I noticed our peninsula had shrunk. The soothing ripples had turned to angry crashing and became like wolves nipping at their prey. The waters of the bay drew close, threatening to swallow us up. Fear struck me and I yelled out to the kids. We scrambled onto the mainland before the rock became an island. It was soon completely engulfed.
Sin is like that rising tide of the Bay of Fundy. It’s deceitful as it lures us in, beckoning us toward its harmless, distant edges. While we are distracted with a new and exciting adventure, it approaches—first slowly, then quickly, its waves intensifying with every inch it conquers. Even when we’re on guard, we sometimes barely escape its clutch; but if we are not watchful, we are in danger of being overcome.
We have sin within us relentlessly enticing our fallen flesh. We have the world beckoning, and an enemy hunting us at every turn. We’re surrounded, about to be engulfed, and for the most part we are completely unaware. The great preacher of old Charles Spurgeon recognized this persistent, lurking evil and exhorted his hearers, “Sin is the greatest evil in the universe…….We ought not to pray so much against sickness, or trial, or temptation, or even death itself, as against sin.”
This dreadful enemy does not approach wearing a neon sign announcing its evil intent. No, it comes veiled, darkness disguised as light. First, we are lured by the seeming innocence of some small temptation. Next, we give it a glance. Then we step closer, stand near. Before we know it, we sit down in complacent, and acceptant, comfort.
Remember the serpent in the garden who approached Eve? Her guard down, he began with a simple question—one veiled with accusation. Did God really say? The next thing out of his mouth was a blatant lie. You will not surely die! By the time she realized what happened, it was too late. Her eyes were opened, the damage done.
The enemy of our souls hasn’t developed any new strategies since then. He’s had no need to. Sin is deceitful. It promises, but never delivers. Why do we never learn? How can we as believers guard ourselves from this enemy?
Over the next several posts, I hope to {attempt to} answer this question. My original draft listed a few antidote’s and expanded on them with a short paragraph, keeping the whole topic to one longer post. This never sat well with me, and I’ve been sitting on this one for a year now. I’ve decided the topic is too serious to approach so tritely, and have created a series of posts to better develop the truths of Scripture. I also would add that I am no theologian, and an entire library could be written on this topic. I’ve hardly scratched the surface, but I’ve been blessed in the learning as I write this series, and I hope you’ll be blessed as you read along.
If you’re in the trenches of the battle against sin as I am, may these weak words strengthen and edify you as you hold steady. In His grace, the Lord has not left us to battle without means. Yes, the Lord will keep His own unto the end, but we must use, with diligence, the means He has given us. Here’s where we’re going over the series:
– Know the truth
– Be alert
– Flee
– Pray
– Exhort one another
Next time, we’ll go a little deeper into knowing the truth.
Take Up and Read
- Genesis 3
- Romans 3:9-26
- Phil. 2:12-13
- 1 Peter 5:8-11
- 2 Peter 1:5-11
The Light for My Path 