Every trap begins as a suggestion, not a seizure. Satan cannot kick the door of the will off its hinges; he is a trespasser without a key. What he can do is lean against the window and whisper a line that rhymes with your own hunger: “You’ve earned a drink.” “One click won’t hurt.” “God helps those who help themselves—so help yourself.” The voice sounds outside at first, but with each repetition, it starts to sound more and more like your own. What began as a suggestion now feels like your very identity.
