The Real Fight

The Real Fight

“In the spring of the year, when kings normally go out to war, David sent Joab and the Israelite army to fight the Ammonites. They destroyed the Ammonite army and laid siege to the city of Rabbah. However, David stayed behind in Jerusalem. Late one afternoon, after his midday rest, David got out of bed and was walking on the roof of the palace. As he looked out over the city, he noticed a woman of unusual beauty taking a bath.”

– 2 Samuel 11:1–2

David was a conquering king, a warrior with victories behind him. But somehow, in this moment, he finds himself napping during the day, sending others to fight battles that were once his to lead.

Yes, he had the means—some of the best warriors and mighty men in Israel. But isn’t this like us? We finally break through a long season of struggle, and instead of staying disciplined, we let our rest evolve into apathy… and sometimes into sin.

There’s nothing wrong with rest. In fact, healthy rest is a reward for hard work. But what I’m talking about is something different. I’m talking about when the hard push through life is over, when the opposition is quiet, when you’re finally “coasting.” That moment when the tension lifts and you feel like you’ve earned a break.

That’s where the danger can begin.

You “deserve” to rest. But that plateau can become a place of spiritual slumber. Maybe a little personal indulgence. And before long—like David—your naps are more frequent, and your afternoons are spent wandering.

Figuratively, of course.

(At least, I hope so.)

David stumbles upon an image: a beautiful woman bathing. And instead of walking away, he wages a new kind of war—one that he was never meant to fight. This war wasn’t against enemy armies; it was against his own desires. And tragically, it led to the destruction of an innocent man and the brokenness of a woman who never asked to be part of David’s spiral.

Let’s step back and ask:

What was David’s real fight?

Answer: The Ammonites.

David was meant to be on the battlefield, not the rooftop.

I believe discipline is the key to keeping a man’s time, energy, and focus directed toward the right battles. Poor discipline allows us to drift—wasting energy on things we were never meant to chase.

Let me speak plainly here:

Men are vulnerable to visual stimulation. That’s not a flaw—it’s part of how we were created. But the enemy knows this too. Our culture bombards us with images and opportunities to chase fantasy over reality.

So, let me ask you:

If you find yourself scrolling through images of women online… are you wandering your own rooftop? Are you, like David, neglecting the real fight?

Does your time, energy, and affection belong somewhere else—or to someone else?

These are hard conversations to have, but we must have them. Because misled desires can take us places we never intended to go. They can cost us our intimacy, our integrity, and our sense of purpose.

There’s a narrative society loves to tell us: the midlife crisis. The kids are gone, your role is shifting, and many men—young and old—start searching for new challenges. But instead of fighting for their marriage or for the heart of the woman they once pursued, they look elsewhere. I’ve seen it time and time again.

They say things like, “We just grew apart.”

But in reality, they walked away from the fight they were called to engage in.

David’s misplaced desire led to adultery and murder. His sin began not with a bath, but with a nap—when he stopped showing up to the battles God had assigned him.

So here’s my encouragement to you:

When it’s time to work, fight.

When it’s time to rest, rest well.

But don’t let rest devolve into distraction. Don’t let your desires drive you off course. If you find yourself chasing comfort, gratification, or escape—wake up.

Get back to the real fight.

The enemy isn’t your spouse.

It’s not your responsibilities.

It’s not your routine.

Your fight is for discipline. For integrity. For your family. For your purpose.

“The first and best victory is to conquer self.”

– Plato

Let’s win that battle.

—Written by: Gabe Voorhees