Spiritual Sparring Partners

I sit here at my Pilgrim’s Desk reviewing today’s Divine Appointment.

My wife and I went out for a relaxing drive and stopped at a small diner for a late afternoon lunch. The place was empty except for the heavily tattooed young woman taking orders behind the counter. The walls were covered with surreal paintings, none of which gave me much comfort, even if the intended vibe was mellow. A guitar and amplifier rested in the corner, as if waiting for a performance later in the evening. Seating consisted of two long rectangular tables, each large enough for ten people, but at the moment, we were the only customers.

Usually, when I’m out in the world, I’m open to conversation. My Bible is always with me, ready for duty if the moment calls for it. But today was my day off—my sacred time to leave the Bible at home on the desk and spend quiet time with my wife.

To be honest, I was glad no one else was there.

But just as we began talking, the door opened.

A man walked in, a few years older than me, wearing a weathered Trilby hat and a white T-shirt. He greeted us, bought a bottled soda, then came over to our table and said he was there to “fellowship.”

If I’m honest, I wasn’t feeling the love. But the cross around my neck reminded me that I might need to be more welcoming than I felt.

He sat down, and I asked how long he had been a believer. Since he mentioned fellowship, I assumed he was a Christian.

He answered my question with one of his own.

“Are you both Christians?”

Unashamed of the Gospel, I told him we were.

Then the conversation took a turn that felt strangely familiar.

He began sharing beliefs that sounded very much like my own thinking before I became a follower of Christ. He said he had no fear of God because God loves everyone, and he had a good relationship with Him. He told us he had studied comparative religion and could see value in all of them. He had worked out, logically, that God must provide many paths to heaven, and that the idea of a literal hell didn’t make sense to him. In his view, the Bible was mostly stories meant to keep people in line.

As he spoke, I could feel Scripture rising in my mind—the verses I’ve been internalizing over the past few years.

I wanted to know if he was saved.

So we walked through what we call the Roman Road to salvation. I didn’t have my physical Bible, but I didn’t need it. The verses were there when I needed them.

He said he believed he was a Christian, but when we came to the point of acknowledging sin and confessing Jesus as Lord, he hesitated. He said people are basically good, and he didn’t feel the need to confess anything or to acknowledge Jesus in that way.

What followed felt like a spiritual sparring match.

Not hostile. Not angry. But real “warfare.” He even said at one point that we need to follow the wide path, not the narrow path.

He championed many of the beliefs I once held myself, years before I truly surrendered to Christ. And I found myself answering from a place I didn’t have back then. The old arguments met the new man.

When we finally left and drove home, I felt discouraged.

I kept thinking, I should have said more… I should have done better… maybe I failed God and him.

I asked the Holy Spirit to forgive my lack of skill, my lack of boldness, my lack of competence in sharing God’s Word.

And then the thought came:

“He was a spiritual sparring partner.”

Isn’t that just like God?

To let us face a reflection of our own old self…
to test the strength of the new one.

To sharpen the sword against the very arguments we once believed.

Not every encounter is about winning a soul in the moment.

Sometimes it’s about strengthening the soldier.

And sometimes the sparring partner looks exactly like the man we might have become…
if Jesus had not found us first.

_______

“As iron sharpens iron, So a man sharpens the countenance of his friend.” Proverbs 27:17 (NKJV)