A wise man attacks the city of the mighty and pulls down the stronghold in which they trust (Proverbs 21:22).

Conventional wisdom would suggest that it's always best to exploit the weaknesses of one's opponent -- be it in sport, business, combat, or whatever.  But Proverbs 21:22 suggests an even better strategy (though you have to be wise in order to successfully pull it off):  exploit not just the weaknesses, but also the strengths of one's opponent.  Though at first it may feel a bit far-fetched, it's actually a classic formula for victory that I've experienced first-hand in dozens of various YMCA's, university recreation centers, and outdoor playgrounds.

In basketball, there is a classic scenario that shows how just how effective an attack against the city of the mighty can be; I'll call it the "Old-Timers" versus the "Young Bucks" phenomenon.  It typically happens in a context where a broad group of people, representing a wide spectrum of age and experience, is playing spontaneous, pick-up basketball.  There might be just enough people to scrape together a full-court, five-on-five game.  And somewhere along the line, someone suggests a break-down of teams which effectively pits the "Old-Timers" against the "Young Bucks."  The Old-Timers have salt-and-pepper hair, paunchy mid-sections, and knee braces, but somehow they all get grouped together and challenged by the lanky, athletic teenagers or twenty-somethings.  Someone might joke about the apparent disparity, but usually one of the Old-Timers will laugh and say, "Aw, c'mon, why the heck not?"

At first, the Young Bucks think they've got it made, since they can easily out-run, out-jump, and out-last the Old-Timers because of their youth and athleticism.  But as the game unfolds, the Old-Timers almost always gain the upper-hand, basically by stripping away the confidence and swagger of the Young Bucks in those exact areas in which they presumed to have had the advantage.  For instance, they let the Young Bucks block their shots once or twice (since they can jump so much higher anyway), and then they start using pump-fakes -- pretending to shoot the ball, though actually holding onto it, while Young Bucks fly through the air -- and then timing their follow-up shot perfectly to go in easily when the Young Bucks are helplessly on their way down, giving in to gravity.  This makes the Young Bucks look silly, and they start to get mad.  So they start running harder and jumping higher; they start trying to make all kinds of crazy out-of-control Kobe-Bryant-type moves in an attempt to single-handedly regain their momentum.  But instead, all this does is cause them to lose their cool and stop playing as a team.  Meanwhile, the Old-Timers just keep doing their thing and racking up the points until the point when they win the ballgame.  But it's really only because the Old-Timers, in all their wisdom and experience, know how to turn the biggest perceived strengths of the Young Bucks against them.  They make their athleticism their liability.  Their hubris becomes their hangman.

In life and in ministry, the same principles hold true.  With wisdom, a person can perceive how an opponent is setting himself up for a fall by depending too greatly on what he considers to be his strongest assets -- and then move in to attack that strength, not shy away from it, and ultimately pull down the stronghold in which they trust.  Granted:  it's delicate business, not to be executed casually or naively, certainly not something for the uninitiated.  Even so, it's incredible to see what a little wisdom can do in the face of the longest of odds.  It can topple the tallest of towers:  like Gideon against Midian, like David against Goliath, like Jesus against a death plot, like the Old-Timers against the Young Bucks.