Temptations, unless dealt with, return with vengeance

Several years ago, when our sons were small and my mother lived with us, we gave Adam a sweet, affectionate kitten as a birthday gift. Adam named him "Grenade" or some such endearing term, and for the first few days the furry little bundle never touched the ground. He was carried -- or stuffed into a camouflage backpack and toted -- everywhere Adam went.

Andy was crawling at the time, and occasionally Adam would let his younger brother pet his new best friend. What that really meant was that Andy would grab a handful of fur and skin and jerk Grenade under his belly and squash him. One day Grenade got even. He hid around a corner, and when our 8-month-old headed in his direction, Grenade jumped out to scare him. Grenade didn't stop there, however. He scratched Andy across his face.

Over the next few weeks, Grenade's behavior worsened. He began clawing all of us, and sometimes he would latch on to our body parts and not let go, sort of like a leech celebrating a dilated artery. Since he'd had his rabies shot, I was able to eliminate that explanation, but nothing we did to tame the turncoat seemed to work.

Dave and I decided it was time Grenade learned to appreciate nature, so we made him an outdoor cat. Adam was devastated ... until Grenade attached himself to Adam's forearm and could not be pried loose. Blood does have a way of changing our perspective, doesn't it?

Grenade wasn't happy outside. He began hiding in the bushes, pouncing on anyone who happened to be in his territory. That included my mother who would water our bushes when we were away. She soon resorted to taking a golf club outside to protect herself from the little demon.

That was it! I called the vet's assistant and asked if they performed exorcisms. She thought I was being funny. I wasn't. Her recommendation was to have him neutered. It was either that or have him executed, I told Dave, who compassionately opted for surgery. Just catching the beast was a neighborhood affair. The Shead family heard of our plight (or noticed the bandages on our arms -- I'm not sure which) and offered to take Grenade to help catch mice in their barn.

Poor mice, I thought.

With the help of the police -- I'm serious -- we captured the crazed monster and celebrated when Larry Shead loaded its cage onto the back of his pickup and drove away. I think we ate cake and ice cream and shot off fireworks, if my memory serves me right.

A month later, my mother was watering our bushes when something jumped out at her and latched onto her leg. You guessed it; it was none other than the little hellion himself. Grenade had managed to journey eight miles to return to torment our family once again.

Temptation to sin has a way of doing the same thing, doesn't it? No matter what we are battling -- anger, lust, pornography, over-eating, alcohol, jealousy, gossip, laziness, insecurity -- you name it -- we seem to conquer it temporarily but then it returns with a vengeance, and we wonder why we didn't deal with it more severely the first time.

Scripture tells us to be watchful. "Your adversary, the devil, walks around like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour." Cat, lion, it's all the same.

We need to recognize that there is an enemy who never rests, whose purpose is to torment us. He is ever mindful of our weakness, and just when we think we no longer need that golf club, he pounces.

Where are you weak? Tempted? Sitting back and doing nothing, or making a half-hearted attempt to solve the problem, is not the answer. We need to be proactive and take the cat by the tail and use the tools Ephesians 6 gives us to face temptation and win: "Finally, be strong in the Lord, and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil."

Some of us are in spiritual battles that cannot be won in the flesh. We need to once-and-for-all rid ourselves of the demons that continue to reappear. I'm not sure where Grenade is today. If kitty Heaven or Hell are his options, I have a feeling he isn't walking on streets of gold. All I know is, it's 20 years after the animal control officer carted him off. We've moved several times since then, but I'm still not so sure we're safe. Just like sin, one can never be too confident that the monster won't reappear.