Rest and War: Rhythms of a Well-Fought Lifeনমুনা

War: The Devil Plays Chess

Eighteenth-century theologian Jonathan Edwards declared in his resolutions: “Resolved, whenever I do any conspicuously evil action, to trace it back, till I come to the original cause; and then both carefully endeavor to do so no more, and to fight and pray with all my might against the original of it.”*

Whenever we experience temptation, we do well to trace it back to its first impulse. Look at the moments that led to the moment of temptation and the moment of failure. This takes intentional thought because the devil is a master strategist.

A great chess player knows he cannot win the game in a single move. He also knows he cannot be too obvious about his intentions. So he mentally plans out ten or twelve moves before he makes his first one. He devises a strategy to subtly shift the pieces on the board over time so that, unbeknownst to his opponent, he has slowly and imperceptibly decreased their ability to resist his advance.

The Enemy works the same way. He knows he cannot get many of us to succumb to temptation with one or two solicitations. We are too smart for that. He doesn’t come to you at midday when you are at peak strength and say, “Let’s begin an opioid addiction today, shall we?” He plays chess. He’ll start with some irritations early in the day. Then add a setback at work, sprinkle in some negative and cynical thoughts, and begin to whisper enticements. He’ll push you toward sin with resentments, then pull you toward it with enticements. Then suddenly, a way of acting that seemed unthinkable a few hours earlier now seems acceptable. He knows he cannot beat you in two moves. So he works to beat you in twelve.

One of my seminary professors told the story of a young man speaking to his doctoral board. While discussing his spiritual life, he confessed to his mentors that he struggled with an addiction to pornography. They asked him some questions about the nature of the circumstances leading to his addictive behaviors. He said to his professors, “If I’m honest, it starts months before the moment I act out. I have homework to do, and I procrastinate. I feel shame about that, but I ignore the shame and distract myself with mindless surfing online or time with friends. As the workload piles up, I start to feel shame and stress. I feel overwhelmed. Then as the deadlines approach, I work late into the night to get everything done. So I sleep less. I mindlessly snack while staying up late. So my body feels bad, and I feel shame about my health choices. And it is in that environment—feeling unhealthy, stressed, ashamed, and tired—that suddenly the urge to look at porn rises with force. I enter into temptation.”

He then explained that he’d discovered a successful strategy in the war on his porn addiction: not to simply wait until the moment that the temptation was at its full strength and then try to resist. Instead, he planned ahead by buying a calendar at the beginning of every semester. He scheduled out his days in that calendar, including set times to study and do schoolwork. If he kept a consistent studying rhythm, he did not need to let work, stress, shame, and exhaustion all pile up—and let temptation rise. One of the best weapons against his war on lust was a daily planner bought six months before any temptation might arise.

It is easier to resist the river of temptation when it is a tiny stream, not a raging waterfall. It’s better to battle an army while they’re putting on their armor and trying to find their weapons than when they’re armed and charging toward you.

Keep way ahead of temptation, and you’ll gain a huge advantage.

Respond

How would considering the consequences of following temptation before acting impact your response?

What was your relationship with God like when you made your most integrity-compromising decisions?

How does anticipating temptation and praying to your loving Father help you fight temptation and destroy the work of the devil in your life?

*Jonathan Edwards, The Works of Jonathan Edwards, vol. 1, Freedom of the Will (Edinburgh, Scotland: 1834), 23.