Do You Know How To Fight? -- Part 2

 

Go here for part 1

Why does it matter whether or not we know how to fight?

Well, for one, in most of life we are up against people and situations where a complete inability to defend yourself could cost you dearly. If you’re not prepared, you might as well not even show up. And there’s a reason for the saying, “You don’t bring a knife to a gunfight.”

Lately, one of the best examples can be seen in MMA (Mixed Martial Arts) fights. It used to be that Taekwondo was all you really needed to know, as fighters merely kicked and punched their way to victory. The fight seldom went to the mat. But, as more and more fights ended up on the mat, it was the jujitsu fighters and wrestlers who were winning. Then, the boxers and taekwondo dudes who ALSO knew how to wrestle started winning—because they could do damage anywhere, at almost anytime. That’s also why more people refer to these bouts as MMA fights than Ultimate Fighter matches. It’s the MMA  fighters that are the most fun to watch—who most know how to fight. The one discipline dudes find themselves in real trouble against a true MMA fighter.

Which brings me to the underlying point of this series.

Why are so many Christians living defeated lives? Why do so many Christ followers get the stuffing kicked out of them each and every day? Could it be they don’t know how to fight? That they’re fighting the wrong battle? Or maybe the wrong enemy?

I think all of these are true. In regards to the battle itself, listen to what the apostle Paul said to the Ephesians (6:12) about this battle…  

“For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.”

So the battle Paul is referring to is spiritual, not physical. The opponent spirit, not flesh and blood. What happens if you bring a gun to that fight?

Answer? Bad things

More on that later. Now, on with my story from the other day…

“Would you like me to teach you how to fight?” My uncle repeated.

“y-y-yes,” I stammered, probably sounding much more like I wanted to learn how to knit than fight.

“Well, the first thing we need to work on is your confidence—you have none. So let me back up a bit. When I ask you if you want to learn to fight, is it ‘y-y-yes’ or ‘Yes Sir?!’”  My uncle loved hearing, YES SIR! I think he was a frustrated, wannabe drill sergeant or something.

He continued, “You gonna be Barney Fife (The Andy Griffith show was still in reruns back then) or Captain Kirk (Star Trek, for you non-trekies)? Gilligan or the Skipper? I can’t help you till you settle in your mind which it’s gonna be.”

I didn’t even hesitate, especially given the fairly pathetic choices. Barney and Gilligan didn't even warrant a moment's consideration. But, the Skipper? Was he supposed to be impressive? He might have been big (read: ‘fat’) but I never remember him being tough.

“Captain Kirk,” I said, finally mustering a small amount of courage. What a no-brainer. Kirk often took on several bad guys at once, and was the only one who could even hold his own against Spock—the incredibly strong half Vulcan. And I probably don’t need to remind you—the reader—that Vulcans are ten times stronger than humans…

But I digress.

“Kirk! Kirk! Definitely Captain Kirk,” I said, starting to get a little excited about the possibility of transforming form my big head, little body self into a Vulcan crushing machine!

“Alright, alright,” my uncle said. “Then come over here and let’s get started.”

• First I learned the proper stance.
• Then I learned to jab with my left.
• Then I learned how to look for an opening.
• Finally, I learned how and when to land a powerful right that--should I deliver it jsut right--would most certainly end the fight.

I loved learning all this stuff! And since my uncle lived fairly close, he agreed to return day after day until I got it.

Each day I mastered a new skill. Each day my confidence grew until the day he said to me, Now, Robby," (Did I mention how much I hate being called that? I did? Well nevermind then. But don't call me Robby either!) "Now Robby, tommorow when you come home from school--we're going to do something a little different. We're gonna, "Go live!"

"Go live?" I asked nervously. "What's that?"

"I don't have time to go into it right now. I'm late for work. Just show up tomorrow ready to defend yourself, because if you don't, then our time together's going to end up worse than any day you've ever had on the playground at that school of yours."

And with that, he grabbed his car keys, said his goodbyes, and left.

Tune in for part 3 next!