The Guard Dog at Mara's Gate

In the hill country outside Nazareth, shepherds knew a simple truth about predators: a wolf will test a flock before it attacks. It circles. It watches. It looks for the lamb that has wandered from the shepherd's side.

Mara Okonkwo learned this principle far from any sheepfold. A recovering alcoholic in Lagos, Nigeria, she described her daily commute past a particular bar on Broad Street — the one with the green awning where she had wasted three years of her life. Every evening, the old craving circled like that wolf, testing her resolve, looking for weakness.

Her counselor gave her an image she never forgot. "Picture a guard dog chained at your gate," he said. "It snarls and lunges, but it cannot reach you — unless you walk toward it."

So Mara made a decision. Each evening, she would pause at the corner of Broad Street, bow her head, and whisper three words: "I am Yours." Not a battle cry. Not a clenched-fist declaration of her own strength. A quiet act of submission to the God who held her.

Within weeks, she noticed something remarkable. The pull grew weaker. The wolf stopped circling.

James understood this sequence perfectly. He did not say, "Resist the devil through sheer willpower." He said submit to God first — then resist. The order matters. When we place ourselves under the authority of the Almighty, the enemy finds no wandering lamb to devour. He flees, because he recognizes the Shepherd's voice in our surrender.