Charles Spurgeon once warned that “Satan never brushes the feathers of his birds the wrong way.” It’s a striking image. He does not confront, he coaxes. He doesn’t provoke a jolt; he offers a gentle drift. When Satan works, he doesn’t shove against the soul’s resistance. He aligns with its preferences. He flavours his bait to the fish. And the fish is hungry.
Sin doesn’t announce itself with thorns or sharp edges. It’s velveted and inviting. It slides in where it fits, into grooves already carved by our own desires. It speaks in tones we enjoy, strokes in directions we welcome. Flattery is its favored tool. A gentle hand, a soft kiss, an echo of what we already want to believe. No friction. No fight. Just the smooth hum of agreement.
The Book of Proverbs recognizes this danger:
“Faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.”
Correction may sting, but that pain is honest. A true friend tells the truth even when it’s hard. The enemy, however, specializes in kisses. Sin kills softly.
This is why open rebuke is not cruelty, but care. The wounds of a friend shape the soul. They call us back from the edge. But sin will never slap your hand away from the fire. It will place another log on and ask you to sit a while longer.
Paul echoes this danger in his letter to Timothy:
“They will not endure sound doctrine… but after their own lusts shall they heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears.”
It’s a portrait of spiritual consumerism. People aren’t drawn to truth but to affirmation. They gather voices that tell them what they already think, not what they need to hear. And Satan smiles. There’s no need for confrontation when accommodation is enough.
Sin is not in a hurry. It does not force. It seduces. It calms. It whispers, “You’re right,” and “They’re just being harsh,” and “This way is easier.” It offers kisses, not crosses. And that’s the test.
Beware of the ones who’ve never crossed you. They will never lead you to the cross.
Because the cross is confrontation. The cross tells us we are wrong, deeply wrong. It offends the self and wounds the ego. But it also heals. It also saves.
Satan never brushes feathers the wrong way. But Christ will, if it means waking us from sleep. One flatters. The other transforms. Choose your discomfort wisely.
