By Sandra Bost
The other day, we came home to a fresh pile of “doggy-doo” on our front porch steps. This abominable batch was left by one of the two dogs who, just the week before, had played a game of tug-of-war with our deaf dog that left him a little worse for wear.
These dogs are the guardians of the territory we are currently inhabiting–strays taken in by the director of the boys’ home where we work-camp. They are a study in contrasts: nice enough to play sweetly with our grandchildren, yet ferocious enough to chase coyotes at night.
At the end of the day, they are just doing what dogs do. So, even though I am tired of cleaning up after them, I can’t really be upset. In fact, I’ve realized I can learn from them.
Not long after the pair ganged up on our dog—leaving him bleeding—I was taking our buddy for a walk. As we descended the stairs, I spotted the male dog a few hundred yards away, and he spotted us. His tail went straight up and he—uncharacteristically—charged toward us at full speed.
I tugged on our dog’s leash to alert him, since I am his ears. He stiffened as he made eye contact with the “enemy.” The two locked eyes, the big black dog skidded to a halt. They stood like statues, a football field apart—ears alert, tails erect—as still as stones. At that moment, I realized our boy needed a chance to save a little face, so I began leading him directly toward the other dog.
In an instant, the black dog began advancing again, but with more caution; his tail dropped ever so slightly. We picked up the pace. When we had cut the distance in half, the black dog stopped to mark an innocent bush and scratch the ground with his back feet—the infamous signal to “keep out.”
Of course, we did not. I let our dog move as quickly as he wanted into the forbidden territory. I noticed that as long as we maintained eye contact and walked confidently toward him, the “enemy” would retreat. But the moment we stopped advancing or turned toward home, he would begin stalking back in our direction.
Eventually, after our dog marked his own territory, we ran toward the black dog waving our arms and yelling, “Get! Get! Get!” Okay, maybe only one of us did that. Admittedly, it was not my finest moment (and with any luck, there are no trail cams on the property to prove it), but it worked.
Once our aggressor was safely back at his own house, we turned for home. That is when the lesson clicked. It was a perfect picture of spiritual warfare.
The Bible warns us about our enemy’s tactics in 1 Peter 5:8: “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour” (ESV). While these ranch dogs are hardly lions, their “prowling” behavior is unmistakable.
When the black dog thought we weren’t paying attention, he advanced quickly and stealthily. But when we were wide-eyed and offensive, he turned away. This brought to mind James 4:7, which offers a three-part strategy for spiritual battles: “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”
The first step is to “submit yourself to God.” This is the foundational alignment of our will with His. The second part, “resist the devil,” is the active response—standing your ground against temptation, fear, or pressure. Then comes the promise: he will flee.
When we submit and resist, the enemy runs, just like that black dog. The dog didn’t suddenly become a different animal; he was still the same territorial stray. But the dynamic changed because we stopped being passive observers of his advances.
It’s funny that the same dogs making my morning chores miserable are teaching me how to stand my ground. They are teaching me to outmarch the things trying to claim territory in my mind and heart. If I want the enemy to flee, I have to give him a reason to run.
Let’s be vigilant this week. Don’t let the “prowler” claim territory that doesn’t belong to him. Ask Holy Spirit to reveal any area of your life where the enemy is advancing. Align yourself with Jesus, resist the devil and claim the victory that belongs to you as a child of God.
Onward!
