[first published in the monthly congregational “Notes” for November, 2017]
I recently saw some remarkable footage from Northern Ontario, Canada, of a wolf trying to attack and kill a moose. The moose was out in reasonably shallow water where presumably it had been enjoying the peace and quiet when the wolf dived in from the shore. The wolf was very nimble but for a while the moose faced up to it successfully. The wolf kept backing up, but the process risked drawing the moose closer to the shore where the water was shallower, and where the wolf had the advantage of manoeuvrability.
Eventually, and while in the water, the wolf was able to latch on to the moose behind one of its front legs in a way that it was very difficult for the moose to dislodge it. If the moose went on to the land, it would surely lose—and die. The moose stayed in the water, going around and around in circles trying to dislodge the wolf, but to no avail. It looked as if there was no hope. Somehow (whether from fatigue or as a result of losing its footing, or as a deliberate act I do not know) the moose dipped below the water. As a result, the wolf momentarily let go – perhaps because it needed to come up for air, or simply because it was caught by surprise. Either way, the moose was suddenly free, but the wolf was quickly looking to latch on again.
This time, instead of trying to make the shore, (where it would surely lose) the wounded moose turned and went out into the lake with the wolf in pursuit. Where the water was shallow, the wolf made ground on the moose; where the water was deeper, the wolf lost ground as it had to swim and could not move as fast. Eventually the wolf turned back and the moose, though wounded, was free.
It was wonderful photography, but my mind immediately saw an illustration of a deep spiritual lesson. While the moose was on ground helpful to the wolf it would surely lose and die. Its only hope lay in the deep water where the wolf was limited.
We usually use the idea of being in “deep water” to indicate being in trouble but in this case, “deep water” was safety. Here is my lesson: While I fight temptation in my own strength, and on the devil’s territory or with my own tactics, I will surely lose. He is far more cunning, far more subtle, far more powerful than I am. Yes, I am called to resist the Devil (1Pet 5:9 & James 4:7) but I am a fool if I think that I can stand up to him on my own. The strength to resist has to be Christ’s not mine. I need a place so deep that the Devil cannot stand, where he loses power and is himself forced to turn and flee. That place is with Christ, and if I truly repent of my sin and commit to Him in faith, He will never turn me away and will surely keep me! John Newton put it so wonderfully in his hymn Approach, My Soul, the Mercy Seat:
Be Thou my Shield and Hiding Place, That sheltered near Thy side,
I may my fierce accuser face, And tell him Thou has died.* (verse 4)
So, with such a safe, guaranteed place, why do I wander away? Why indeed! It is folly! The only explanation I can really offer is that I do not love Him as I should; that I do not yet realise how serious was, and is, my continued need of Him. And yet despite my folly He still loves me! How wonderfully persevering is His patience! Yes, one day I shall be changed fully; that day is not yet here, BUT I know it is coming!