It was war. A threat to my very life. Eternal separation from God.

That's not an exaggeration. That's not dramatic language for effect. That's the truth I had to face about my own soul.

A destructive sin was eating away at my chance of entering through the narrow door. And the worst part? I didn't even see it coming. I had allowed the wolf to enter without a fight because I was asleep—blind to something greater than defeat, greater than pain, greater than all the things that usually grab our attention.

When life got hard—when people I loved reacted in hurtful ways, when others attacked my character with lies, when rejection came for standing up against the crowd—I knew to run to Jesus. Those moments were obvious. The pain drove me to my knees.

But that wasn't where the real danger was hiding.

The greatest threat to my salvation wasn't hardship. It was success.

The Enemy Nobody Warns You About

My childhood was easy. My parents loved me and encouraged me. I excelled at athletics. I was voted homecoming king and student body president. Life came naturally to me in a lot of ways.

These aren't words of pride. They're a confession.

Because while everyone talks about holding onto faith during the storms, nobody warned me about the danger of the calm.

It wasn't difficult moments threatening my trust in Jesus. It wasn't rejection or failure or catastrophic near-death experiences. It was the successful moments—the easy seasons—that slowly, quietly distracted me from my Savior.

Success whispered something seductive: You've got this. You're talented. You're capable. Trust yourself.

And I listened.

The good times didn't drive me to my knees. They convinced me I didn't need to kneel at all.

That's when the wolf walked right through the front door.

The Word That Changed Everything

Someone once asked Jesus, "Lord, will those who are saved be few?"

His answer wasn't comforting:

"Strive to enter through the narrow door. For many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able." — Luke 13:23-24

The Greek word translated "strive" is where we get our English word agonize.

Let that sink in. Jesus didn't say "casually make your way toward the door." He didn't say "try your best when it's convenient." He said agonize. Fight. Claw your way through.

We are at war to enter the Kingdom of God.

Not a metaphorical war. Not a Sunday school flannel-board battle. A real, daily, exhausting fight against everything trying to pull us away from Jesus.

The war against bitterness. The war against pride. The war against distrust and unbelief. The war against addiction, rage, laziness, quitting, lying, stealing, selfishness.

And yes—the war against success becoming an idol.

If we don't take this war seriously, we risk everything:

"In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth, when you see Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God but you yourselves cast out." — Luke 13:28-29

This isn't a game. The stakes are eternal.

The War You're Actually Fighting

Here's where I got it wrong for years: I thought the war was against the people who hurt me.

The spouse who disappointed me. The family member who betrayed me. The friend who lied about me. The critic who attacked my character. These felt like the enemies. These felt like what I needed to fight against.

But Jesus says something different. He says love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you. Turn the other cheek.

Our war isn't against people. It's against our own sin.

The bitterness I was nursing toward the people who hurt me? That was the enemy. The pride that made me trust my own abilities more than Jesus? That was the enemy. The comfort that lulled me to sleep while the wolf crept closer? That was the enemy.

It's our own sin that's hurting us. Killing us. Pulling us away from the narrow door.

The people who wound us—even the ones who wound us deeply and unfairly—they're not our enemies. They're fellow broken humans in need of the same grace we need. We're called to love them, forgive them, release them.

The real fight is internal. And it never stops.

When Calm Becomes Dangerous

John Piper writes something that haunts me:

"Soul-destroying temptations to unbelief and sin are present in everyday, normal life. Striving to enter through the narrow door is a lifelong, all-day, every-day calling."

Read that again. Soul-destroying temptations are present in everyday, normal life.

Not just in crisis. Not just when everything falls apart. In the regular Tuesday afternoon when nothing particular is happening. In the successful season when everything is going well. In the calm, quiet moments when you're not even thinking about spiritual warfare.

That's when we're most vulnerable.

It's easier to stay focused when life is chaotic. When pain is screaming at you, it's blatantly obvious that you need Jesus. You have no choice but to cry out.

The danger comes from normal life. From comfort. From success.

Where do your thoughts wander in the calm silence? When things are going well, are you still focused on Jesus? Or have you drifted into autopilot, trusting in yourself, your circumstances, your relationships?

Jesus focuses on the pleasures of life because those are the times we become too relaxed. Our marriage becomes an idol. Our job becomes an idol. Our kids become an idol. Our reputation, our comfort, our success—all of it can quietly replace Jesus at the center without us even noticing.

The wolf doesn't always come roaring. Sometimes he tiptoes in while we're napping.

What Staying Awake Actually Looks Like

So how do we fight this war? How do we stay awake when everything around us is calm and comfortable?

It starts with brutal honesty about what's actually competing for first place in your heart.

When you wake up in the morning, what's the first thing you think about? When you lie in bed at night, what occupies your mind? What would devastate you if you lost it? What are you protecting more fiercely than your relationship with Jesus?

Those are your idols. Those are the things trying to pull you away from the narrow door.

And here's the uncomfortable truth: they're usually good things. Marriage is good. Kids are good. Career success is good. Financial security is good.

But good things become deadly things when they take the place of Jesus.

The pathway to freedom isn't avoiding good things. It's holding them loosely. It's recognizing that everything—every blessing, every success, every comfortable season—is a gift from God, not a replacement for God.

Agonize to stay awake. Fight to keep Jesus first. Guard your heart in the calm even more than in the storm.

The Narrow Door

Do not make the mistake of thinking this life Jesus called us to is an easy one.

His expectations of kind reactions when people hurt us? Not easy. His command to love our enemies? Not easy. His call to die to ourselves daily? Not easy.

And his warning about the narrow door? It's a warning precisely because most people miss it.

They get distracted. They fall asleep. They let success convince them they don't need to strive anymore. They mistake the absence of crisis for the presence of safety.

But the war never stops. The door stays narrow. And the only way through is to keep fighting, keep striving, keep agonizing—not against the people who hurt us, but against everything in us that wants to turn away from Jesus.

I almost lost this war. I let comfort blind me. I let success deceive me. I fell asleep while the wolf walked right in.

By God's grace, I woke up. By God's grace, I'm still fighting.

And by God's grace, the narrow door is still open.

The question isn't whether the path is hard. It is. The question is whether you're still walking it.

Don't be blind when things are going well. That's exactly when you need to pay attention.

The pathway to freedom is through the narrow door. And the only way through is to stay awake.

If you're in a season of struggle, reach out. Check out my online courses at smalleyinstitute.com or connect with me about coaching.

You can also text me at (303) 435-2630  or email [email protected] if you need help figuring out your next step.

What's competing for first place in your heart right now? What "good thing" might be quietly becoming an idol? Share in the comments—your honesty might be the wake-up call someone else needs today.