My grandpa loved professional wrestling. Names like Dutch Savage, Lonnie Mayne, and Bull Ramos were in the sports hall of fame of my grandpa’s mind.
One evening in 1973 I was watching wrestling with my grandpa. It was Friday night, and the broadcast was coming live from the Portland Sports Arena (Oregon). Grandpa was really excited and started telling me all about the different bouts scheduled for that night.
The first match began. I watched intently. It was pretty exciting. Guys jumping around and yelling at each other, to which my grandpa would yell back. But something didn’t seem right. They were hitting and punching, but I could see the blows were being held short. The hits didn’t connect.
“It so fake,” I said.
“What?!!!!” My grandpa yelled. “Whadda mean fake?!!!! These are some of the greatest wrestlers in the world!” Then in a twelve year old kind of giggle I replied, “Grandpa, they’re not even hurting each other. It’s rigged.” He bounded for me, took me by the arm and sent me outside. He was mad at me for the rest of the weekend.
Notwithstanding the athleticism of professional wrestlers, as well as the astute business savvy of the promoters, it’s all entertainment. It’s fun to watch and follow, but it is by no means real wrestling. Real wrestling is slow, almost boring. And there are no theatrics.
During high school, one of my best friends was an Oregon all-state champion wrestler. I can’t remember how many times I saw him wrestle, but I do remember the first time.
The match started out with he and his opponent doing some pretty quick moves. It was exciting. But then my friend was thrown by his opponent, and held down on his stomach. My friend fought, struggled, pushed, flailed, but nothing could break the hold. This went on for an eternity. Then the whistle blew and they both came off the mat. After a few minutes they started up again. And once again his opponent managed to throw him on his stomach and hold him there.
Since it didn’t seem like I would miss much, I went to the restroom. When I came back into the gym, sure enough they were in the same position they were in when I left: my friend on his stomach fighting, struggling, pushing, and flailing.
But suddenly something shifted. My friend freed himself. His team, his family, and his friends (even this one) yelled. Then within a couple of seconds my friend managed to throw his opponent on his back, and pin him for the win.
Spiritual warfare is described as a wrestling event. Not like the aforementioned staged and planned kind, but much more like real wrestling. Slow. Tedious. Difficult. In fact it can be so subtle at times we miss it.
For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. (Ephesians 6:12, NKJV)
This kind of wrestling and the opponents involved here are not flashy, hammy, or entertaining. But it is real, and with much higher stakes.
We battle with the forces of darkness who would love for us to think either we’re already defeated, or that we need to implement some kind of showy, dramatic style. Capes, masks, boots, and shiny suits of a spiritual sort. Running around. Jumping. Yelling.
But it’s fake.
The real battle is fought and won by…
“Being strong in the Lord and in the power of His might. Putting on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the strategies of the devil.” (Eph. 6:10-11)
Standing’s not real glamorous. And wrestling’s not real exciting. The enemy knows this and will try to lure you away. You may feel like nothing much is going on. Slow. Tedious. Boring. But take it from the guy who went to the bathroom, but got back in time: God’s about ready to throw the enemy on his back and pin him for good!!!