In high school I played a couple years of tennis. It was a spring sport, so right around this time of year, when it went back and forth between snow and hot weather, we’d have practice in preparation for our first match.
I played doubles, so the strategy was a little different than for singles. In singles you’re responsible for the whole kit and caboodle: everything that comes over the net is something you need to get back to your opponent. It’s a little different in doubles, and you have to work as a team. Figuring out the way you want to move around the court, who’s got the better serve or backhand, which of your opponents was the weaker player from the baseline, and seeing if you could lure the guy at the net close enough to the center of the court to get it past him down the alley were all parts of the strategy you’d look at developing.
Playing the net was my favorite part of doubles. Most of the time the two guys at the opposite baselines are slugging it out, but every now and then the guy on the other team would either flub the return or maybe underestimate the net guy’s reach, and allow the ball to get close enough for the net man to pounce on it and slam it back between the two opponents. Sometimes teams would get a little tricky and have the baseline and net guy switch sides of the court, which usually threw the other team off balance but also opened themselves up for an attack if they didn’t do it right.
Sometimes it would become painfully obvious that high school tennis players were not professionals. The net guy on one team would “intercept” the return and get it over the net, but the other net player would get to it fast enough to get it back over. The goal was for the net player to return the ball at a sharp enough angle that neither one of the other players could get to it in time.
I’m pretty tall, and I’ve got a pretty large wingspan. When I have a racket in my hand, my reach gets that much further. When I played at the net, I usually crouched and kept my arms tucked in, to try and mask my full reach. As the volleys continued, many times the opponents sort of got lulled into this sense that I wasn’t going to do anything unless the ball came very close to me. Once in awhile I’d even ignore a ball I may have been able to get to. They’d get less and less careful about keeping it away from me, and eventually I’d explode out of the crouch and either blast the ball somewhere onto their side or just barely tap it over the net to a spot they couldn’t reach fast enough.
That lurking, that patient waiting until just the right moment is a lot like one of the tactics our enemy uses. We, Christians, can get lazy or lose sight of the danger, and get lulled into a sense of complacency. We know we should stay away from the really bad stuff, but this smaller, less obvious version is probably okay, right?
It could be anything. Alcohol. Pornography. Racy novels. Gossip. Substance abuse. Gambling. Lying. “It’s not so bad,” we tell ourselves. There are no immediate repercussions. Then we wade a little deeper into whatever it is; we “allow the ball to get a little closer to the guy at the net.” We might even be a little excited about feeling like we’ve got things under control. Then one day, you suddenly and horribly realize you should have made different choices. That sudden realization can look very different depending on what kind of fire you’re playing with.
Then comes one of the enemy’s biggest and most effective tricks. Instead of coming clean and seeking help from someone you trust, he whispers in your ear “you’ll never recover from the shame if people find out. You’ll carry that stigma everywhere you go for the rest of your life. It’s better to just keep it hidden.”
Every one of those examples above are well-known problems among humanity. Admitting it to someone you can trust isn’t admitting you’re a failure, it’s admitting you’re human and you’re not perfect. Guess what? We already knew that. Sharing your struggle with someone and trying to get some help actually takes away most of the enemy’s power to bludgeon you with shame and regret. You have the choice of whether you want to remove a good portion of his power over you. Don’t pass up the opportunity to shed that fear and guilt. Christ didn’t die for you so you could live in shame. He died for you so you could experience the freedom of forgiveness, the wonder of His grace, and the joy of sharing this news with others.
Don’t let that amazing opportunity pass you by because you believe the lies whispered in your ear when you’re feeling vulnerable. There’s power in the name of Jesus, and He’s waiting for you to call on Him.