By Janet Morris Grimes –
I wonder sometimes how I have gotten to be so predictable.
My Gmail account suggests addresses of people, based on past emails I have sent, who might be interested in the note I am writing and usually Gmail is correct.
Facebook recommends friends based on other people I know and love. More often than not, I am thankful for the new connections.
My phone lists my favorite numbers to call. Correctly.
Even my iPod knows which songs I will play to the end. It’s not unusual to hear a pick from that same artist within the next three or four songs.
My dog gets excited when I pull out my tennis shoes. He tracks down his own leash to make sure I remember that he is supposed to go with me.
My past behavior indicates what I will do in the future.
In the electronic world, this phenomenon is known as ‘trending,’ which means ‘to show a tendency toward something.’
I suppose my tendencies are obvious. My trends are often used against me—even when I invest effort into changing them.
Unfortunately, no one knows my past trends better than Satan. He remembers the last time I was lonely, confused, or doubting. He remembers what triggered my last argument. He reminds me of the failures I have tried to forget. He plasters my mistakes all over the walls to keep them in view.
He would love nothing more than to box me into a rut, and surround me with memories of past misery to keep me there as long as possible.
That is just his way. His tendency, if you will. He, like me, has a few trends, and has gotten quite predictable.
But I refuse to participate. To be predictable. Not with him, anyway.
He hates it when I feel free to move forward. He abhors it when I choose to forgive, especially when I have plenty of reasons not to. He cringes when I figure out what works. He detests it when I open my Bible to find answers that will last until eternity. He loathes it when I find ways to keep my heart from becoming bitter. He hates it when I buck the trend and do exactly the opposite of what he expects me to do.
When I resist, he flees. He has no choice. He won’t waste his time on me if I won’t play his game.
Could it be that by learning Satan’s greatest weapon against me, I have also discovered my greatest weapon against him?
I would do well to remember that the battle is over. There is no reason for me to doubt or be afraid. Victory lies with those who refuse to engage in Satan’s meager attempts to distract us.
It was Jesus who proved this to me, over and over again. How is it that I so often forget?