Christianity

Guarding Peace in a Spiritual World

~ Observant Servant

I want to approach this carefully and thoughtfully.

Over the years, I’ve had conversations with people who were genuinely frightened by things they couldn’t explain. Noises in the house. Objects out of place. A heavy atmosphere. Sometimes what unsettled them most wasn’t the external disturbance, but the internal spiral that followed — fear, confusion, even questioning their own sanity.

While Scripture doesn’t use the word “poltergeist,” it does acknowledge spiritual warfare. Ephesians 6:12 reminds us that “we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers.” That verse tells me something important: there is a spiritual dimension to our lives. But it also tells me that fear is not the center of the story — Christ’s authority is.

I’ve learned that when something feels oppressive or disturbing, the first and most important response is not panic. It is anchoring.

Fear has a way of multiplying. Once it enters, it starts interpreting everything through its lens. A normal sound becomes sinister. A small coincidence feels supernatural. The enemy doesn’t always need dramatic manifestations; sometimes confusion and anxiety are enough to destabilize someone.

Scripture repeatedly calls us back to sobriety and steadiness. “God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind” (2 Timothy 1:7). That phrase sound mind matters deeply. Anything that robs us of clarity and peace should drive us closer to Christ, not deeper into speculation.

If someone has been involved in occult practices in the past — whether knowingly or casually — repentance is always wise. Acts 19 describes believers burning items connected to sorcery after coming to faith. Not out of superstition, but out of allegiance. When we belong to Christ, we close doors that once stood open.

But I’ve also come to see that not every disturbance is spiritual in origin. Homes make noises. Stress amplifies perception. Trauma heightens sensitivity. Sometimes what feels spiritual is emotional exhaustion, unresolved grief, or anxiety looking for an explanation.

That’s why grounding matters.

James 4:7 gives a simple but powerful instruction: “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.” Notice the order. Submission first. Resistance second. The focus is not on chasing darkness, but on staying aligned with God.

If fear is present in a home or heart, the invitation is not to obsess over what might be there. It is to fill the space with light. Prayer. Worship. Scripture read aloud. Conversations rooted in truth. Peace invited intentionally.

Forgiveness also matters. Ephesians 4:27 warns us not to “give place to the devil.” Bitterness, unresolved conflict, and unrepented sin can create vulnerability in ways we don’t always recognize. Clearing those spaces is less about fighting entities and more about restoring spiritual health.

I’ve found that a life anchored in Christ is not easily shaken. When we walk in repentance, humility, and obedience, we do not need to live on edge. Colossians 2:15 reminds us that Jesus has already disarmed principalities and powers. The victory is not fragile. It is finished.

If you ever feel unsettled, begin with peace. Invite the Lord into the space. Speak His name without fear. Seek wise counsel if needed — and don’t hesitate to address practical explanations alongside spiritual ones. God works through wisdom as much as through prayer.

The goal is not to become fascinated with darkness. The goal is to remain rooted in light.

Where Christ reigns, fear does not get the final word.

#SpiritualWarfare #ChristianDeliverance #PoltergeistSpirits #DemonicManifestations #BiblicalProtection

Grace Growers: How God Uses Difficult People to Shape Our Character

~ Observant Servant

There are certain people in my life who have shaped me more than they probably realize.

Not because they were easy. Not because everything flowed smoothly. But because something in me was exposed in their presence. Impatience. Defensiveness. Pride. The parts of my heart that still needed refinement.

I’ve come to think of them as quiet instruments in God’s hands.

Ephesians 6:12 reminds me, “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers…” That verse has rescued me more than once. Because when I forget it, I turn people into enemies. When I remember it, I pause.

The battle is not the person.

That shift changes everything.

Instead of reacting in frustration, I’m invited to respond with discernment. Instead of feeding offense, I’m asked to choose grace. It doesn’t make the interaction easy, but it steadies me. It reminds me that God may be doing more in me than through the situation itself.

Jesus said in John 15 that we must remain in the Vine. Growth does not happen because I will it to happen. It happens because I stay connected. And sometimes the evidence that I am growing is not how I feel during a hard conversation, but how I respond afterward.

There have been moments when I wanted to justify my reaction. To defend myself quickly. To withdraw completely. But I’m learning that spiritual maturity often looks like restraint. It looks like asking, “Lord, what are You forming in me right now?”

Hard situations reveal what is still unhealed. Difficult people reveal where I still need patience. Unexpected criticism reveals how secure I truly am.

And if I’m honest, grace rarely grows in comfort.

Galatians 5 speaks of the fruit of the Spirit — love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. I’ve noticed those qualities don’t develop in isolation. They grow when tested. Patience requires something to endure. Gentleness requires something sharp to soften against. Self-control requires something that provokes.

I used to think spiritual growth would feel like constant peace. Instead, it often feels like friction that exposes what still needs surrender.

That doesn’t mean we accept mistreatment or abandon wisdom. Love and boundaries can coexist. Guarding your heart is not the same as hardening it. Sometimes maturity means speaking clearly. Sometimes it means stepping back. Sometimes it means saying no without guilt.

But even boundaries can be set with a steady heart instead of a wounded one.

I’ve had to ask myself difficult questions: Am I growing, or am I just enduring? Am I becoming more like Christ, or just more guarded? When something triggers me, is it because I’m being attacked — or because something in me still needs refinement?

These are not comfortable reflections. But they are necessary.

The truth is, the people who stretch me are often the ones God uses to deepen me. They are not interruptions to my growth. They are part of it.

And perhaps the most humbling realization of all is this: while I am being stretched by someone else, I am probably stretching someone too.

God is not only working on them.

He is working on me.

Every sharp edge is an invitation. Every moment of tension is an opportunity to respond differently than I once would have. Every irritation can become formation if I let it.

I am learning to pray more quickly before reacting. To breathe before speaking. To ask for the Spirit’s help instead of relying on my own restraint.

Growth is quieter than I expected.

It often looks like choosing gentleness when sarcasm would be easier. Choosing peace when proving a point would feel satisfying. Choosing love when withdrawal would feel safer.

And little by little, the rough edges soften.

Not because the world has changed — but because something in me has.

Father,

Thank You for caring more about my character than my comfort.

When I encounter people or situations that stretch me, help me remember that You are present in the process. Guard my heart from quick reactions and defensive words. Slow me down when I want to respond in the flesh. Teach me to pause long enough to ask, “Lord, what are You forming in me right now?”

If pride rises, humble me gently. If impatience surfaces, root it out. If old wounds are exposed, heal them instead of letting them harden me.

Help me to see beyond personalities and remember that my battle is not against flesh and blood. Give me discernment without suspicion. Give me boundaries without bitterness. Give me courage without harshness.

Grow in me what cannot grow in ease, patience, gentleness, self-control, steady love. Let the fruit of Your Spirit be more visible than my frustration.

And if I am someone else’s grace grower, refine me there too. Make me aware of how my words and tone affect others. Shape me into someone who strengthens rather than wounds.

Above all, keep me close to the Vine. Let my growth come from abiding in You, not from striving in my own strength.

Form Christ in me.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

#GraceGrowers #SpiritualGrowth #ChristianLiving #FruitOfTheSpirit #SpiritualMaturity #HealthyBoundaries #RespondWithLove #OvercomeEvilWithGood #ChristianEncouragement #FaithOverFeelings #ChristianCommunity #BibleStudy #KingdomLiving #FaithJourney #GodsGrace

The Reason behind the Storm

~ Observant Servant

There was a season recently when someone very close to me was walking through something that didn’t make sense.

It wasn’t just a hard week. It wasn’t ordinary stress. It was wave after wave — physical symptoms with no medical explanation, emotional strain, tension in relationships, strange opposition from directions that felt almost coordinated. It lasted for months. She eventually had to step away from work because it became so overwhelming.

And what made it heavier was not just the battle itself, but the commentary surrounding it.

She would reach out for prayer and be met with the same well-meaning counsel: pray more, examine your heart, close doors, renew your mind, forgive again — really forgive. The implication, subtle or not, was that somewhere she must be missing something. Somewhere she must be failing.

But I knew her. I watched her cling to the Word. I saw her fast, pray, seek God with sincerity. If effort alone could have resolved it, it would have.

Not long after, I went through something similar — though not to the same intensity. My health was hit. There were unsettling moments in the house I manage. Car trouble. Disturbances in my sleep. I wasn’t gripped by fear, but I was puzzled. I remember asking quietly, “Lord, what is this?”

When I reached out for prayer, I received the same responses she had. Pray harder. Have more faith. Search for hidden sin. Forgive deeper. It was offered with sincerity. But when that is the only lens applied to suffering, it can become heavy. The enemy is quick to twist it into condemnation.

I began to wrestle with a deeper question: Is protection always the absence of attack? If I am doing what I know to do — renewing my mind, guarding my heart, walking uprightly — does that mean hardship cannot touch me?

Scripture doesn’t support that conclusion.

Job lived righteously, and yet God permitted Satan to test him. His friends were certain he had done something wrong. They searched for hidden fault. But the text makes it clear: this was not punishment. It was permitted for reasons beyond human logic.

In Luke 22:31, Jesus tells Peter, “Satan has asked to sift you as wheat.” The sifting was allowed. But so was the prayer. “I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail.”

That detail steadies me. Sometimes the attack is not evidence of failure — it is an arena for faith to be strengthened.

In John 9, when the disciples saw a man born blind, their first instinct was to assign blame. “Who sinned?” Jesus answered, “Neither… but that the works of God should be revealed in him.”

That passage has changed the way I look at suffering in others. Not everything is a consequence. Not every storm is self-inflicted.

Sometimes God permits what He intends to redeem.

That realization softened something in me. It made me slower to diagnose, slower to assume, quicker to pray.

In both my friend’s story and mine, there came a moment of breakthrough. For her, it came through prayer offered by someone who carried quiet discernment rather than accusation. For me, it came through a dream where I sensed clearly that the Lord had heard me. From that point forward, the intensity lifted. In my case, something I had struggled with for years finally shifted.

It truly can feel darkest before the dawn.

Looking back, I see that the trial revealed more than weakness. It revealed perseverance. It exposed how quickly we can turn suffering into a checklist of spiritual failures instead of a mystery held in God’s sovereignty.

His thoughts are higher than ours. His ways are not ours.

Sometimes hardship is refining. Sometimes it is revealing. Sometimes it is preparation. And sometimes the reasons are known only to Him.

What I carry forward from that season is this: when someone comes to you in the middle of a storm, offer presence before prescription. Offer prayer before diagnosis. Ask the Lord for wisdom before drawing conclusions.

Their trial may be shaping them. But it may also be shaping you.

Will you respond with compassion? Will you speak gently? Will you trust that God may be doing something far deeper than what is visible?

I am learning that faith is not proven by the absence of attack, but by steady trust in the middle of it.

And when breakthrough comes, it reminds us that He was present the entire time.

Father,

Give us discernment when others are suffering. Guard our tongues from quick conclusions and our hearts from subtle judgment. Teach us to sit with the hurting without rushing to explain what only You understand.

If You allow sifting in our lives, strengthen our faith in the process. If You permit storms, anchor us in Your peace. Help us persevere without self-condemnation and trust that Your purposes are higher than what we see.

Make us gentle helpers. Wise intercessors. Steady friends.

And when the night feels long, remind us that dawn is not delayed — it is appointed.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Baptism Do-over

~ Observant Servant

When I was a teenager, I was baptized more than once.

If I’m honest, I don’t remember much about it other than standing in line with a group of other kids, walking up one side of the baptismal, being dunked, and climbing out the other side while everyone watched. It was something our youth group was doing. It felt expected. Almost routine. I remember the t-shirt afterward more than I remember the meaning.

Years passed.

By December 2020, my relationship with Jesus was no longer casual or borrowed from a group. I loved Him. I understood what baptism represented — death to the old life, resurrection into the new. This time it wasn’t about fitting in. It was about surrender.

And yet, in the days leading up to it, something strange happened.

Instead of excitement, I felt dread.

I couldn’t sleep. Panic attacks surfaced. Anxiety wrapped around me like something alive. On December 13, 2020, I stood on the steps of the baptismal shaking. I remember gripping the railing so tightly my hands hurt. Waves of dizziness hit me. I nearly passed out more than once.

When my name was called, I walked into the water trembling.

I fully expected that when I came up from the water, the fear would be gone. Wasn’t that how it worked? Public declaration. Obedience. Fresh start.

But when I rose from the water, the fear was still there.

I left that service confused and ashamed. I couldn’t understand why something that looked joyful for everyone else felt like torment for me. I replayed it in my mind for months. Then years. I would watch other baptisms — tears, laughter, celebration — and feel a quiet ache inside.

What was wrong with me?

Was I broken? Had I failed somehow? Why did others seem to encounter peace while I encountered panic?

Over time, the memory became something I avoided. I stopped wanting to be present for baptisms. It stirred too many questions.

Then, years later, I found myself at another baptism service. I had no intention of participating. I was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. No extra clothes. No preparation. I planned to quietly observe and leave.

As I watched someone else step into the water, I felt both joy for them and that familiar longing rise up in me again.

And then I remembered Acts 8 — the Ethiopian eunuch asking Philip, “What hinders me from being baptized?” There was water. There was opportunity. He seized it.

When the invitation was given, I initially declined. The old fear stirred. So did shame. I was part of the ministry team. I should have had it together. What would people think? The thoughts were rapid, accusatory, sharp.

But something deeper in me knew this was a moment.

When I stepped into the water, the fear tried to rise again. It felt familiar — like a script attempting to replay itself. My body tensed. I could feel the resistance inside me. But this time, there was discernment where there had once only been confusion.

Prayer began.

And what had been hidden surfaced.

I won’t dramatize it. I will simply say this: it was a battle. And then it broke.

I felt it leave. Not emotionally. Not imaginatively. Tangibly.

When I went under the water that day — June 22, 2024 — I came up into something I had longed for years earlier. Peace. Lightness. Joy that stayed.

The difference was not my sincerity. I had loved Jesus deeply in 2020. The difference was understanding. There had been fear rooted deeper than I realized, and it had never been addressed. It manifested when I obeyed publicly. And because no one recognized it for what it was, it remained.

Hosea 4:6 says, “My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge.”

That verse feels personal to me now.

I was saved. I loved God. But I did not understand spiritual oppression or deliverance. I thought anxiety was just something I had to manage. I didn’t know it could be confronted and expelled.

Looking back, I don’t feel anger toward the past. I feel gratitude for growth. God did not abandon me in that first baptism. He allowed the process to unfold in its time. He exposed what needed to be addressed when I was ready to face it.

And what I carry now is not embarrassment — it is testimony.

Freedom sometimes comes in layers. Obedience does not always erase struggle instantly. But when the Lord brings light to what has been hidden, it changes everything.

If you have obeyed and still feel bound, do not assume you are defective. If you have declared your faith and still wrestle internally, do not conclude that God is disappointed.

Sometimes the first step is obedience.
Sometimes the next step is deliverance.
And sometimes the breakthrough comes years after the surrender.

But it does come.

Father,

Thank You for Your patience with my process. Thank You for not leaving me in confusion. Where there is fear hiding beneath obedience, expose it gently. Where there is oppression disguised as personality, bring clarity. Give Your people knowledge, discernment, and courage to pursue full freedom.

And for those who feel ashamed that their journey has not looked like someone else’s, remind them that You are writing their story uniquely and carefully.

Let every act of obedience lead not to condemnation, but to deeper liberty.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

baptism

Subtle Seduction of the Occult

~ Observant Servant

There’s a story that has stayed with me.

Joe Gutierrez, a steelworker of more than forty years, described something that once captivated an entire mill. Fine silver flakes would float down from the cooling tower when steel strips rolled across certain pads. At night, under the lights, it looked almost magical — like snow drifting in August. Workers would compete for the job assignment in that section because it was considered the most beautiful place to stand.

Later they discovered the truth. The flakes were asbestos.

“Everybody breathed it,” he wrote. Now he and many others live with asbestosis: a slow, tightening grip in the lungs. And he reflected with haunting honesty: We used to fight over that job.

I can’t read that story without thinking about how many things in our culture resemble those silver flakes. Attractive. Harmless-looking. Almost enchanting.

But slowly destructive.

The occult is one of those things.

It rarely presents itself as dark and dangerous at first. It feels mystical. Intriguing. Sometimes even playful. A horoscope here. A tarot reading there. A personality quiz shaped like astrology. A show about mediums. A curiosity about “energy.” It all appears innocent enough.

And yet Scripture is clear.

Deuteronomy 18:10–12 leaves little room for ambiguity: “There shall not be found among you anyone who practices divination… or a witch… or a consulter with familiar spirits… For all that do these things are an abomination unto the Lord.”

Those are strong words. Not because God is restrictive, but because He is protective.

The word occult simply means hidden. Concealed. But hidden does not mean harmless. Hidden things often operate quietly. Subtly. Like airborne fibers no one questions until breathing becomes difficult.

I have noticed that much of our culture treats these practices as entertainment. Astrology columns sit beside weather reports. Tarot decks are sold as aesthetic décor. Witchcraft is repackaged as empowerment. Spiritual curiosity is encouraged — as long as it doesn’t point to Christ.

But Scripture warns us that engaging in these practices is not a neutral act. Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 10:20 that behind idols are spiritual forces. To participate is to open fellowship with something other than God.

When someone turns to horoscopes, mediums, or divination, it quietly says, “I need knowledge beyond what God has given.” It implies that His Word is insufficient. That His guidance is incomplete. That perhaps He is withholding something good.

And that is the oldest lie.

In the garden, the serpent’s whisper was not overtly dark. It was subtle. “Did God really say?” It suggested that God might be limiting, not loving.

But everything we need to know about our future and our spiritual lives has already been entrusted to us in Scripture. We are called to walk by faith, not by secret knowledge. To trust the One who sees the end from the beginning.

Snow danced in August — and they fought to stand in it.

That image sobers me.

Not everything beautiful is safe. Not everything mystical is holy. Not everything popular is harmless.

We are invited to something deeper than fascination. We are invited to trust.

To take “good heed unto ourselves,” as Deuteronomy says. To guard our hearts from being driven to worship what was created instead of the Creator. To stand firmly on the sufficiency of God’s Word.

There is peace in not needing hidden knowledge. There is freedom in not chasing signs. There is security in walking step by step with the Shepherd who promises to guide, protect, and care for us.

The silver flakes glittered.

But they slowly stole breath.

May we have discernment to recognize what sparkles, and the wisdom to step away before it settles in our lungs.

Father,

You see the things that attract our attention and capture our curiosity. You know how easily our hearts can be drawn toward what appears beautiful, intriguing, or harmless on the surface. I ask that You give me discernment — the kind that sees beyond appearances and recognizes what is truly from You.

Lord, forgive me for the times I have allowed curiosity to wander into places that do not honor You. If I have looked for guidance, meaning, or understanding outside of Your Word, cleanse my heart and redirect my steps. Your truth is sufficient. Your wisdom is enough. I do not need hidden knowledge when I have the light of Your voice.

Your Word says, “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.” (Psalm 119:105, KJV) Teach me to trust that light. When the world offers glittering substitutes, help me remember that what shines is not always safe.

Guard my heart from deception. Give me a love for what is pure, true, and holy. Let Your Spirit sharpen my discernment so that I recognize the difference between what is merely fascinating and what is truly life-giving.

I choose to trust You with my future. I choose to walk by faith rather than by hidden knowledge. Lead me step by step, Shepherd of my soul, and keep my heart anchored in Your truth.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

WARNING ABOUT THE OCCULT

God’s Gift of Hate

~ Observant Servant

There was a season in my walk with Christ when my world quietly shifted. When I first became a believer, my circle of secular friends slowly faded and was replaced with Christian community. That part didn’t surprise me. It felt like a natural consequence of choosing a new direction.

What I didn’t expect was that when I began speaking openly about deliverance, my circle would shrink again. Conversations became strained. Some of the same believers who once felt close seemed uncomfortable around me. There was a noticeable distance, an unspoken hesitation. I hadn’t anticipated that obedience would cost me fellowship in certain spaces.

But I can say this now with clarity: it has been worth it.

Following Jesus has always come with a cost. He never hid that. And stepping onto the front lines of spiritual warfare exposes things that comfortable Christianity often prefers not to address. When your eyes are opened to the battle, you can’t unsee it.

Looking back at old journals from when I was newly born again, I can see that the Holy Spirit was gently trying to show me that I still needed freedom in certain areas. At the time, I didn’t understand what I was being shown. Later, when I did become involved in a church, I was warned away from a particular minister whose teachings had been helping me. I trusted the counsel I was given and stepped back. Only now do I realize that the enemy had quietly used well-meaning believers to delay my deliverance.

That realization stirred something in me.

Not bitterness toward people — but a deep, fierce hatred toward what the enemy does to people. I began to see more clearly the destruction, the compromise, the confusion he sows. I saw how he delays healing, twists truth, isolates believers, and even hides behind religious language to keep people bound.

And I realized something else: if we do not hate sin, we will tolerate it.

Scripture says, “You who love the Lord, hate evil” (Psalm 97:10). That used to sound harsh to me. Now it sounds protective. If I love what God loves, I must also hate what harms what He loves. Proverbs 6:16–19 tells us plainly that there are things the Lord hates — pride, lying, violence, wicked schemes, discord among brothers. Godly love does not coexist with passive acceptance of evil.

This kind of hatred is not rage toward people. It is not personal vendetta. It is not self-righteousness. It is a settled, holy refusal to make peace with what destroys souls.

I have learned that hatred of sin strengthens resolve. It sharpens discernment. It fuels repentance. It keeps you from excusing the very thing that once enslaved you. When you truly hate your bondage, you stop negotiating with it.

For years, I misunderstood my struggles. I thought I simply needed to try harder, pray longer, perform better. But real freedom began when I stopped minimizing sin and started seeing it the way God sees it — not as a harmless flaw, but as a thief.

There is a righteous anger that rises when you understand what the enemy has stolen from you and from others. That anger, when surrendered to God, becomes a weapon. Not against flesh and blood, but against deception.

We are heirs of the King. Not timid observers. Not passive bystanders. But sons and daughters called to stand.

If we do not hate sin, we will eventually accommodate it. If we do not hate deception, we will slowly be shaped by it. If we do not hate the enemy’s schemes, we will underestimate them.

This is not about becoming harsh. It is about becoming clear.

And clarity is a gift.

A Prayer for the Godly Gift of Hate

Father,

Search my heart and purify my motives. If there is bitterness in me, remove it. If there is pride in me, humble it. But if there is passivity toward sin, awaken me.

Teach me to love what You love and to hate what You hate. Give me a holy hatred for the things that destroy souls, corrupt truth, and delay freedom. Help me never to direct that hatred toward people, but toward the sin and deception that binds them.

Strengthen me to refuse compromise. Sharpen my discernment so I do not excuse what You call evil. Let my anger be righteous and surrendered, not reckless or fleshly.

Make me bold but gentle. Fierce but humble. Unyielding toward sin, yet overflowing with mercy toward people.

I belong to You. Train my heart for battle. Guard me from deception. And let my hatred of evil always flow from a deeper love for You.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Send me…

~ Observant Servant

“Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?’ And I said, ‘Here am I; send me!’
Isaiah 6:8

Back in October of last year I felt the need to take a day trip to a place called Montezuma Well. The gentle nudge came when I was looking for some out of town areas to explore. Now granted, in my happening upon this place in a Google search, it seemed to be a bit boring. Plus it was hot out and it’s about a 3 hour drive from where I live. Gas was also around $4.25-4.50 a gallon. So, in my opinion, it wasn’t worth the drive. But I went anyway.

While driving I kept thinking that maybe God wanted me to go there for a reason. So I began to pray about it. As I was getting close, I realized I really needed to get gas. So I asked God to lead me to a place that gas was less than $4. (And if He did this, then I would know that I was in His will in taking this trip.) I was beginning to feel pretty silly about driving so far for nothing spectacular.

Eventually I happened across a small mom and pop station and it had gas for $3.99. I took it as a sign that God was hearing me and pulled in. There was no one around other than a tanker driver who was delivering fuel on the other side of the pump. He was Hispanic burly guy, a little rough looking. He kinda seemed angry and closed off in all honesty. As I was pumping my gas, I noticed he was watching me and I started feeling a bit of fear creep up but I brushed it off and greeted him mentioning something about the weather. I don’t remember what exactly it was I said but he seemed to relax a bit and we had a brief chat.

While I was finishing up and putting my card back in my wallet, I felt I should give him a Gospel tract. (I carry them with me in the form of $1 Million bills.) I offered it to him, asked if he had seen one before. He said “no” and I told him about the real treasure was on the back where it told about Jesus. He just nodded, didn’t really respond.

As he was looking the bill over I said “You know… Jesus, He loves you. He sees you.”

It’s not normally how I initiate conversations when I share the Gospel but my “normal” seemed out of place on this day.

He paused for a moment and when he looked up, he had tears in his eyes. It was like he transformed into a whole different person in front of me. He began to tell me about how he lost his job during the pandemic because he refused to get vax’d. How his wife had left him and took his children and he lost his house and everything else and now he was living in his truck. He told me how he felt so alone and isolated and he had been praying for a sign because he didn’t think he could make it. He was so broken. I couldn’t help but hug him and encourage him to draw nearer to Jesus. We conversed for a bit more then I prayed for him and gave him a Gospel of John. He thanked me, his spirit seemed much lighter and he was smiling.

Then we went our separate ways.

It is so important to be sensitive to the Holy Spirit. Ready and willing and having your feet shod with the Gospel of peace. One conversation can turn someones life around. I encourage you to pray daily for the Lord to use you. Ask Him to give you an opportunity to bring Jesus into someone’s life. I promise you will be blessed by the encounter.

feet of the Gospel

Sacrifice of Praise

~ Observant Servant

“And then Job arose and rent his mantle, and shaved his head, and fell down upon the ground and worshiped. And said, “Naked I came out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord givith and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
-Job 1:20-21

There are seasons when I return to the book of Job, not because it is easy to read, but because it is honest.

Many people struggle with it. It feels heavy. A righteous man. A faithful man. And God allows everything to be stripped away. His home, his livelihood, his children, his health. It almost feels unbearable to witness. And yet, woven through the anguish is something steady. Job’s refusal to let go of God, even when he could not understand Him.

For reasons I didn’t fully grasp at the time, the Holy Spirit led me through Job in the early months after I was born again. I remember reading it slowly, trying to absorb what it meant to trust God when nothing made sense. Looking back, I can see that I was being prepared.

Because not long after I finished the book, my own life unraveled.

Within a short span of time, I lost friendships. I lost my place to live. I didn’t own a car, so when relationships fractured, I also lost transportation and my job. One of those same “friends” left me carrying a heavy financial burden. My relationship with my daughter collapsed. My father passed away. The hits came so quickly that I barely had space to breathe between them.

I was broken in ways I didn’t have language for. Angry. Grieving. Regretful. Confused.

And yet, even in the grief of losing my dad, I could see mercy. His passing was nearly instant. That mattered to me. I thanked God for that small kindness in the middle of so much loss. It felt strange to be thankful while hurting, but gratitude became a lifeline.

Throughout that storm, Job stayed in my thoughts. I remembered how he worshiped even while he wept. How he wrestled honestly with God, but never abandoned Him. How he refused to curse the One he did not understand.

So I tried to do the same.

Some days, my praise felt thin. Some days it felt like a whisper more than a song. But I thanked God for what remained. For breath. For salvation. For being pulled out of darkness. For the cross. For the lessons I didn’t yet understand. I thanked Him for the fact that I was still alive to learn them.

Something shifted in me during that time. The circumstances did not immediately change. The pain did not disappear overnight. But peace began to settle in places that had once been frantic. It was not denial. It was not pretending. It was a quiet assurance that God was still present in the rubble.

In time, restoration came. Not in the exact shape I had imagined, but in ways that were better than what I lost. New friendships. A place to live. A vehicle. Healing in some family relationships. Provision I could not have orchestrated on my own. God rebuilt in ways that felt both tender and strong.

There are still areas waiting on His timing. But I no longer panic in the waiting.

Even now, as I walk through another uncertain season, I find myself returning to that same posture. Praise in the middle of not knowing. Trust in the absence of visible answers. I think of Abraham stepping away from everything familiar, not with a map, but with a promise. I imagine the mixture of fear and faith in that obedience.

There is a reason Scripture calls it a “sacrifice of praise.” A sacrifice costs something. When your heart aches, when your body is weary, when confusion clouds your direction, praise does not come naturally. It is offered. Chosen. Laid down.

The enemy would prefer silence. He would prefer bitterness. He would prefer that pain close your mouth and harden your heart.

But praise disrupts that strategy.

Praise anchors you in truth when emotions are unstable. Praise reminds your soul of who God is, even when you do not understand what He is doing. Praise opens space for peace to enter.

I have learned this slowly, through tears more than triumph. When you lift your voice — even trembling — something shifts. Not always the circumstance. But you.

And in that shift, you begin to sense it again: He is faithful.

Even here.
Even now.

Father,

You are the God who sees every season of our lives — the joyful ones and the ones that feel like walking through ruins. You see the moments when our hearts are strong with faith, and You see the moments when we barely have the strength to whisper Your name.

Lord, thank You for never abandoning us in the middle of our suffering. Your Word reminds us, “The LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.” (Job 1:21, KJV). Teach my heart to hold that same posture of trust, even when I do not understand the path before me.

Forgive me for the times I have allowed fear, bitterness, or confusion to speak louder than faith. When my circumstances feel overwhelming, help me remember that You are still present in the rubble. You are still working in ways I cannot yet see.

Give me the courage to offer the sacrifice of praise. Even when my voice trembles. Even when my understanding is incomplete. Let praise rise from my heart not because everything is easy, but because You are faithful.

Your Word says, “By him therefore let us offer the sacrifice of praise to God continually, that is, the fruit of our lips giving thanks to his name.” (Hebrews 13:15, KJV). Let gratitude anchor my soul when everything around me feels uncertain.

Strengthen my trust, Lord. Quiet my anxious thoughts. Help me walk forward step by step, knowing that You are guiding me, even when the road is unclear.

And just as You restored Job in Your time, remind me that You are still a God who restores, heals, and rebuilds what has been broken.

I place my life, my losses, and my future into Your hands.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

Healing of the Heart and the Role of Deliverance

~ Observant Servant

One of the biggest things I have struggled with is allowing others to get close to me. Like many of you, there have been severe wounds inflicted on my heart that left deep scars and even more areas that have left my heart raw. Lies, betrayal, abandonment, feelings of worthlessness. For years, most (if not all) of my adult life, my heart bore the weight of this burden. It manifested itself on the outside as well in more ways than one. Sure my attitude could be forced into an appearance of everything being great in my life, but there was a spirit of depression on me.

Yes, Christians can be infested with demonic spirits. I know that there is a lot of controversy surrounding this topic. The thing is, the enemy copies everything of God. We know this. He twists it, he perverts it, he makes as a appealing as possible to the masses and, sadly, fools even the followers of Christ. The subject of the gifts such as the gift of tongues and Deliverance is no exception to this. One must pray for discernment not to be deceived.

The spirit of depression manifested itself through my creativity. My inspiration always came from a wounded heart steeped in rejection and isolation, and if I am being honest, unforgiveness . Art projects reflected dismal, dreary and sometimes even dark scenes. Creative writing while pouring out my heart, always resulted in the saddest of stories. When I would create, the mask would fall away and even the most cheerful colors were laced with scenes of heartache. Repentance and surrender to Christ changes that.

Once I forgave others and myself (you MUST forgive yourself), God began the process of healing my heart. It was often a struggle. Every loving touch hurt. My heart was battered and bruised. It had areas of infection that needed to be cleaned. With any wound, the cleansing process is unpleasant. Sometimes it hurts terribly as the antiseptic is used to wash away all of the infected areas. The process of cleansing the heart is no different. In order for the healing process to be effective, God must cleanse it first. This means exposing unwanted areas. But the Lord God has the most gentle touch and the most loving way to handle tender hearts to make them whole again. The result is feeling so much lighter and freer and experiencing true joy.

God has been working on my heart. As with all healing, it takes time. It is a process. There are times that it took prayer and fasting and there were times it took something stronger. An army of prayer warriors and deliverance.  The most uncomfortable part of it was the exposing of my wounded areas to God and others. Becoming even more vulnerable. Admitting I was still hurting. Being reminded of those painful times in my life that I just wanted to bury and hide away. They had to come out. They had to be exposed. Like any wound, if you just cover it up, infection sets in. So my wounds had to be uncovered in order to be attended to. After prayer and deliverance from the spirits that were haunting me, I felt cleaner. My heart was lighter. My soul could breathe. Jesus set me free. Repentance, forgiveness and deliverance were the method. I am so grateful and I pray that each one of you can experience the love of God through being set free.

Your Christian walk is to be filled with joy despite the circumstances you find yourself in. The only way to have that joy is to surrender to Jesus.

Father,

You see every hidden wound, every place in my heart that I have tried to protect, cover, or bury. You know the betrayals, the abandonment, the lies that tried to define me. You know the weight of rejection I have carried and the shame I have wrestled with in silence.

Lord, I bring my heart to You again.

Where it is bruised, touch it gently.
Where it is infected, cleanse it.
Where it is hardened, soften it.
Where it is still afraid to trust, breathe courage into it.

I choose to forgive — not because it was easy, not because it didn’t hurt, but because You forgave me. I release those who wounded me. I release the accusations I have held against myself. I refuse to partner with bitterness, rejection, or depression any longer.

In the name of Jesus, I renounce every spirit that attached itself to my pain. Every lie that says I am unworthy, unlovable, or alone — I reject it. I receive Your truth instead.

Heal my heart, Lord. Cleanse what needs cleansing. Expose what needs exposing. Give me the humility to let You and others see the tender places so they can be made whole.

Teach me how to love again without fear.
Teach me how to be vulnerable without shame.
Teach me how to walk in joy — real joy — that comes from surrender.

Fill the places that once held darkness with Your light. Replace heaviness with freedom. Replace sorrow with gladness. Replace isolation with holy connection.

Thank You for Your patient hands. Thank You for not rushing the process. Thank You for never abandoning me in my brokenness.

I surrender my heart to You completely.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Fruit Inspectors

~ Observant Servant

Stop me if you have heard this one.

“I’m not judging them. I’m just inspecting their fruit”
Have you had an encounter with these “fruit inspectors”?
Maybe they are watching how you worship or even how you pray. I had an encounter a few months ago where I was judged because I didn’t pray they way someone thought I should during corporate prayer. They ridiculed me asking me why I didn’t pray for/about the things they felt I should be praying about or for. And another where because I was struggling, it was insinuated that God was displeased with me. I couldn’t do anything right. It was so bad that I started feeling that God had turned His face from me. That I was a lost cause. It broke me.

So many Christians are so judgemental and not in a loving way at all. They are just straight up mean. And they do it while holding their Bible under the covering of “I’m a fruit inspector. Just doing the Lords work.”
Seriously?
I hear it all the time. The Bible tells us to judge others. We’re to hold our brothers and sister accountable.
Ok.. I get it.
Let’s see what the Bible says.

There are scriptures like Proverbs 31:9 that do say “Open thy mouth, judge righteously…” And we definitely should want our brothers and sisters in Christ to be growing and moving forward. There certainly is a time, a place, and a way to do that, that shows love and truth. The problem is that we don’t see much love and truth. The problem is we don’t fully understand the weight of Matthew 7 that says ‘ do not judge or you too will be judged for in the same way you judge others, you will be judged.

Understand what you are doing when you claim to be a “fruit inspector”. You are saying “God, I know all the ins and outs of this situation, I know every motive hidden or not, and I am just as qualified as you, God, to place judgement on them.” — When you do that, you are saying “God, now judge me.” Is that really what you wanted?

Romans 14:10 says so why do you condemn another believer? why do you look down on another believer? Remember that we will all stand before the judgement seat of God. Each of us will give a personal account to God. Then in verse 13 it says this: So let’s stop condemning each other. Decide instead to live in such a way that wont cause another believer to stumble.
The truth is all this “fruit inspecting” we’re doing does way more damage than anything else. We are showing the world that even us as Christians cannot figure out how to get along. Jesus is love, joy, and peace huh? Let me see it in His followers.

Let me tell you some truth right here. If you really want to make a difference in the world for Jesus, start talking about what you’re for instead of focusing on what you are against. Can you judge other believers? Sure! Absolutely if you want to. But why would you want to? Remember John 3:17 “For God did not send His son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.” If Jesus didn’t come here to condemn people, what makes us think it is our job? If you truly care about helping others grow and become a better person, love them to Jesus. It’s sad that other Christians, even pastors, bash other people under the cover of “righteous judgement”.

There’s nothing wrong at all with helping other people become who they should be in Christ but make sure we are doing it out of love with a pure heart. Not to make us feel better about ourselves. That is self righteousness. For we have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. That’s why we all have to depend on His righteousness.
And remember, if Jesus didn’t come to condemn them, then maybe you shouldn’t either.

Author: Kelly K. www.kellykministries.com