Jacob Glassner

Artists often depict the devil with goat-like features, and I’m pretty sure I know why.

When I was a teenager, I used to do yard work for a man I simply knew as Mr. Bill. He paid me 15 bucks to mow his grass, and in the fall, I had the dreaded task of raking his leaves.

Mowing grass was easy money—it took me less than an hour to finish; raking leaves was not. I spent whole Saturdays stuffing endless piles of wet oak leaves into black garbage bags.

And then there was the goat.

Yes, one year Mr. Bill bought a pet goat named Billy (no creativity points for that name) and decided to stable him in his chain-link-fenced backyard. And, no, I didn’t grow up in the sticks—this was Highview. I’m still not quite sure how a pet goat got past the zoning board.

In any case, Billy was scared of the lawn mower and kept his distance when I mowed the yard, but when it came time to rake, he—pardon the slang—was all up in my business.

I was hesitant to rake leaves with a goat, so I raked the front yard first. I thought Billy might try to ram me with his little horns, so I kept a close eye on him when I got to the backyard.

At first, he kind of just watched me rake, letting out an occasional “meh-eh-eh-eh-eh” (that’s supposed to be the sound a goat makes). But he crept closer and closer to me as I bagged leaves, and when I turned my back on him, he grabbed the bag with his teeth and ran around the yard flinging leaves in the air.

I retrieved the bag, its contents dumped all over the yard, and began raking again. “Meh-eh-eh-eh-eh,” bleated Billy as he watched me stuff leaves back into the bag, and as soon as I turned my back, he snatched the bag again.

This happened three or four times, and at my wit’s end, I threw a garbage bag at Billy and screamed at him to go away. Billy happily snatched up the bag and trotted off. In my frustration, I found the solution to my problem: Sometimes you have to give a garbage bag to a goat.

I’m probably not going to get any awards from PETA for giving plastic to a goat, but it worked, and Billy left me alone long enough to finish raking. For those who are worried about Billy’s welfare, I retrieved the slobbery, chewed-up garbage bag from him later that day.

I don’t believe Satan has horns, hoofed feet and a goatee, but he often attacks us like a pesky goat.

When we’re not paying attention, he’ll creep up on us and pop thoughts in our heads: “No one will notice if you cheat on your taxes,” or “your past is too bad for God to forgive.” And before you know it, you’ll be wallowing in sin.

So how can we chase off the goat?

“Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you” (James 4:7).

Toss him a garbage bag and tell him to go away.

“Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings. And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast” (1 Peter 5:9-10).

God also has given us tools to “stand against the devil’s schemes” (Ephesians 6:11).

“Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God” (Ephesians 6:13-17).

Suit up, and the next time you hear the “meh-eh-eh-eh-eh” of that wily goat, go on the offense with the Word of God as your sword. Pray, quote Scripture and proclaim, “Get behind me Satan!”