Faith

Sharing Jesus in the Quiet Places of Care

~ Observant Servant ~ Leave a comment

Over the past couple of months, I’ve been given an unexpected and sacred gift: the opportunity to care for an elderly gentleman from Iran. What began as a simple caregiver role quickly unfolded into something far deeper. In a short amount of time, we’ve shared meaningful conversations, laughter, quiet moments, and a genuine friendship that I now treasure.

As our trust grew, so did the space for deeper conversations. Recently, those moments opened the door for something even more beautiful, the chance to share Jesus with him. I’ve been able to speak about the miracles and healings I’ve witnessed, the faithfulness of God in my own life, and the hope that can only be found in Christ. Every time I speak His name, my heart fills with a joy that’s hard to put into words. It’s the kind of joy that reminds me why the gospel is truly good news.

This man does not yet know the Lord, but I can see the Holy Spirit gently at work in his heart. There’s a softness now. A curiosity. A quiet openness that wasn’t there before. I’m not here to rush the process or force a decision. I’m simply honored to love, to listen, and to be present. I plant the seeds, and God brings the growth.

Being a caregiver often means tending to physical needs, but moments like these remind me that God places us exactly where we are to care for hearts as well. Sharing Jesus doesn’t always look like preaching. Sometimes it looks like presence. Like kindness. Like patience and love poured out one conversation at a time.

I leave each visit feeling full and deeply grateful, humbled that God would allow me to be part of His redemptive work. It’s a reminder that obedience, no matter how ordinary it feels, can carry eternal significance.

“How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!”
Romans 10:15

sharing Jesus

Casualties in a Spiritual War

~ Observant Servant

There are days when the spiritual battle feels distant, almost theoretical. And then there are days when the casualties become painfully real. Not bodies on a battlefield, but hearts that grow weary, faith that fractures under pressure, and people who once stood strong now lying wounded along the road.

Scripture never pretends that spiritual war is clean or casualty-free. In fact, it speaks plainly about it.
Paul reminds us, “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places” (Ephesians 6:12, KJV). Wrestling is close combat. It is exhausting. And in any close fight, someone gets hurt.

One of the most sobering casualties in Scripture is Saul. He was chosen by God, anointed, empowered by the Spirit. Yet through disobedience, fear of people, and jealousy, he slowly lost ground to the enemy. The Spirit of the Lord departed from him (1 Samuel 16:14). Saul did not fall all at once. He was worn down over time. Pride became a foothold. Insecurity became an open door. The casualty was not just Saul’s kingship, but his peace, his clarity, and ultimately his life.

Then there is Judas Iscariot. He walked with Jesus. He heard truth firsthand. He saw miracles with his own eyes. Yet Scripture says, “Then Satan entered Judas” (Luke 22:3). Judas became a casualty not because he lacked proximity to holiness, but because he allowed unchecked sin and disappointment to take root. The enemy did not need distance. He only needed permission.

Even strong believers can become wounded. Peter, bold and sincere, swore loyalty to Jesus, yet denied Him three times. Jesus warned him ahead of time: “Simon, Simon, behold, Satan hath desired to have you, that he may sift you as wheat” (Luke 22:31). Sifting does not destroy the grain, but it is violent and disorienting. Peter wept bitterly afterward. His denial was a casualty moment, but not a permanent defeat. The difference was repentance and restoration.

Spiritual casualties are not always dramatic betrayals. Sometimes they look like burnout. Elijah, after calling fire down from heaven, collapsed under despair and asked God to take his life (1 Kings 19:4). The prophet who outran chariots was suddenly too tired to go on. Warfare had taken its toll. God did not rebuke him. He fed him, let him rest, and gently reminded him that he was not alone.

That matters to me.

Because spiritual warfare is not just about demons manifesting or battles being won loudly. It is also about quiet losses. Marriages strained. Believers sidelined by offense. Faith weakened by seemingly unanswered prayers. People who love God but are bleeding internally.

Jesus acknowledged this cost when He said, “The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy” (John 10:10). The enemy aims for casualties. But Jesus does not leave the wounded on the field. He continues, “I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.”

What comforts me is this: casualties are not the same as defeat. Scripture is filled with the wounded who were restored. David fell, yet was called a man after God’s own heart. Peter denied, yet became a pillar of the church. Even those overtaken in a fault are to be restored gently (Galatians 6:1).

Spiritual war is real, and so is the cost. But so is the grace of God.

Today, I choose to stay alert without becoming afraid. I choose humility over pride, repentance over denial, and vigilance over complacency. I pray not just to win battles, but to tend the wounded, including my own heart.

Because in this war, survival is not about strength alone. It is about staying close to the Commander, listening for His voice, and trusting that even when casualties occur, redemption is still part of His strategy.

In a war like this, no one is meant to fight alone. Scripture urges us, “Wherefore comfort yourselves together, and edify one another” (1 Thessalonians 5:11, KJV).

Encouragement is not optional in spiritual warfare; it is a lifeline! When one soldier is wounded, another must help carry the weight. We remind each other of truth when lies feel louder, of hope when fatigue sets in, and of God’s faithfulness when vision grows dim.

Hebrews tells us to “consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works… exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching” (Hebrews 10:24–25, KJV). Sometimes encouragement is a word, sometimes a prayer, sometimes simply staying present. But every act of encouragement pushes back the darkness and keeps another believer from becoming an unseen casualty. In this war, strengthening one another is not weakness. It is strategy.

spiritual weariness

The Safety of Being Hidden in Christ

~ Observant Servant

There are seasons when I feel pulled in a hundred directions. Responsibilities. Conversations. Expectations. Noise. And in the middle of it all, I find myself longing for something quieter — not escape, but refuge.

Psalm 91 has become deeply personal to me:

“He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High
shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress:
my God; in Him will I trust.”
— Psalm 91:1–2

The phrase that lingers with me is “dwells in the secret place.”

It does not say visits occasionally. It does not say rushes through. It says dwells.

There is a difference between knowing about God and living tucked close to Him. Dwelling implies remaining. Lingering. Staying when there is nothing impressive happening. Staying when there is no audience. Staying when the world feels loud.

I am learning that the secret place is not dramatic. It is quiet. It is the steady turning of my heart toward Him before I turn toward the day. It is choosing stillness before reaction. It is letting His voice speak before every other voice gets my attention.

The world rewards visibility. God invites hiddenness.

The world celebrates speed. God cultivates depth.

And depth does not grow in noise.

When the psalmist says we abide under the shadow of the Almighty, I picture being close enough to feel His nearness. A shadow only covers what stands near. The promise is not for the hurried or the distracted. It is for the one who dwells.

I have also realized that the secret place is not about isolation. It is about alignment. I can walk into a room full of people and still carry that quiet steadiness if I have first sat with Him.

There is protection in that kind of life. Not protection from hardship, but protection from losing myself in it. When I dwell with Him, fear does not get to define me. Urgency does not control me. Approval does not anchor me.

He becomes my refuge.

And refuge is not weakness. It is wisdom.

There have been moments when I tried to fight battles without first dwelling. I reacted instead of resting. I spoke before listening. I moved before praying. And I felt the strain of carrying weight that was never meant to sit on my shoulders.

Psalm 91 gently corrects that tendency.

Dwelling is not passive. It is intentional. It is choosing to remain in Him so that when the winds rise, I am not uprooted.

The more I sit with this, the more I realize that the secret place is not a location. It is a posture. It is the quiet decision to trust Him before I trust my own understanding.

“He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in Him will I trust.”

That last line feels like surrender. Not frantic faith. Not anxious striving. Just trust.

If you feel stretched thin or unsettled, perhaps the invitation is not to do more, but to dwell more deeply. To return to the quiet place where your soul is reminded who holds it.

The secret place is not small. It is sacred.

And those who dwell there are never alone.

Father,

Thank You that my life is hidden with Christ in You. Thank You that I am not exposed to the shifting opinions of the world, not defined by applause or diminished by silence. I am held.

When I am tempted to measure my worth by visibility, remind me that security in You is greater than recognition from others. When hidden seasons feel confusing or small, help me trust that You are forming roots beneath the surface.

Teach me to live from belonging instead of striving. Quiet the part of me that wants to prove, perform, or compete. Anchor me in the truth that I am adopted, chosen, and fully Yours.

If You are growing something in me that no one else can yet see, give me patience. If You are protecting me from pressures I don’t even recognize, give me gratitude. If You are shaping my character in unseen places, give me humility.

Lord, let my identity rest safely in Christ. Let my heart be steady whether I am noticed or not. Help me value faithfulness over fame, obedience over approval, and intimacy with You over public affirmation.

Keep me hidden where I need to be hidden. Bring me forward only when You are ready. And in every season, remind me that being held by You is more than enough.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

hidden in christ

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

Demons and Deliverance

~ Observant Servant

There’s a portion of my testimony I don’t talk about much and that portion has to do with how badly demons were tormenting me. How terrified I was. I became paranoid. Confused. Thought I was losing my mind. The first time I admitted to what I went through, I was told by a well-meaning Christian, that it was merely a “mid-life crisis”. After that, I never mentioned the depths of torment that I went through again.

In fact, the only time I have openly admitted to it was when I heard someone else talking about their experience. And at that moment I was in tears because I was so relieved I wasn’t alone in my experience.

Demons are nasty and some of the worst ones are let in when a person becomes involved with the occult. I embraced the occult at a young age while still under my parents roof. My mom had her own past that I only know bits of. I know that she was no “dabbler” but into heavy duty stuff that had serious repercussions down the family line. Even after she became a ‘Christian”, I was still raised watching shows like Bewitched, I Dream of Jeannie, Twilight Zone and Tales from the Crypt on a regular basis. Add to that everything Disney had to offer and well, there you see my upbringing was soaked in witchcraft.

I turned fully into the occult by the time I was a teen. That went on for 35 years but in reality, it was my entire life.

When I found myself looking in the direction to Christ for answers, the demons in my life suddenly began rearing their ugly heads. Even though I wasn’t drinking or taking drugs, my mental state went on a terrifying downward spiral toward an abyss that I only knew I wanted no part of.

They began ganging up on me with demons in other people. Thoughts would flow through my mind and the people around me would either say exactly what I was thinking or make a comment about my exact thoughts without me saying a word. It was so horrible. I couldn’t escape my mind. It drove me to God.. and when I committed to Christ, it didn’t get better. In fact it got so much worse. Because now I had switched teams. The threats and visions I got were so intense that had I not been where I was at when it happened, I would have taken myself out in an effort to escape.

Christianity is supernatural.
You can’t escape it.
There is a real unseen realm where the most intense wars are fought.
Any Christian who thinks otherwise or thinks they can skate by and avoid it is fooling themselves.
They are blind.

All of that was part of my journey of deliverance. The only thing was I didn’t realize that I was in the process of it. I still had no idea of what I was up against.

As I stated before, becoming a Christian didn’t stop the torment. When I came to Christ through this process, the Holy Spirit was literally all I had. I didn’t own a Bible and I was in a facility that had no books available. In fact there was nothing available other than a tv with super bad reception. I spent (what I later found out was) a week straight in a large “L-shaped” room with about 20-25 other people. Though had you asked me what day it was or even what time of day it was, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you. It felt like I was outside of time and space. I was aware it was passing but mentally I was outside of it, watching it pass. (Again, this was sober – I had no drugs or alcohol in my system and yet I felt like I was trapped riding a terrifying high.)

It was during this time that I began the process of learning how to hear the Holy Spirit. It was a crash-course in spiritual warfare that continued for months even after I made it back home. Initially it was like my mind was downloading all sorts of information. The veil had been pulled from my eyes and I saw the battle for souls. I watched it play out. I had visions of the wins and losses for both sides. Things that I can’t even describe.

While the enemy filled my mind with threats telling me I would never be safe, that I had a target on my back, that they would never leave me alone, cushioning me with more and more fear, the Holy Spirit would make His presence known to me, promising me that I would be kept safe just as long as I would believe and trust Him. While the enemy would manifest in the people around me and they would talk amongst themselves making their plans against me within earshot, I would pray to walk by them unseen and be amazed when those same people would pass me by as if I was invisible.

When I finally got my hands on the Bible, I began to devour it. After a particularly heavy spiritual attack one night (I was seeing demons manifest themselves outside my bedroom window) I cried out to God for several hours in prayer. I awoke the next morning with the word “Ephesians” on my heart and I began the process of learning who I was in Christ. Slowly my mind became clear. I was still being tormented but I was finally able to function mentally. I believe this was the Holy Spirit showing me how to renew my mind. I stopped seeing spirits and I began to attend church and I felt like my battle was over for the most part.

Or so I thought.

I found a church that did outreach. They had sound doctrine and were really nice people. I shared with them the spiritual side of my journey and their response was one of disbelief. It was nothing like they had ever been through so they couldn’t relate it seemed. They never really talked about the spiritual realm to a level that I seemed to have lived through.

After that, I kept things to myself. I was still suffering. I had major depression. I still had a lot of anxiety and although the urge to end my life was no longer there, intrusive thoughts would come at random. Even on my good days where I truly felt blessed by God. The most common thought I had on a regular basis was a vision of me stabbing myself in my throat. I didn’t know why.

I was often questioned as to why I didn’t have the joy of the Lord and I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t know that I was still in a battle. I would read the Bible, go to church, worship, pray, share the Gospel and yet I was still in chains. I wasn’t growing fast enough, praying hard enough, doing enough… These thoughts came into my mind and were echoed and pointed out by those around me.

As humans, even the best of us fall short. The enemy doesn’t fight fair and shortly after that I found myself isolated, completely rejected, and curled up in my closet sobbing from the depths of my heart begging God for mercy because I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what was wrong with me and when my first church family pushed me away, I thought God had abandoned me.

That I was a hopeless cause and a wasted effort.

Then I felt “John 6:37” in my heart.

“All those the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never turn away.”

I clung to this scripture, repeating it over and over to myself. I was in a state of desperation.

The next day, I got a message that told me to look into Hardcore Christianity.

Looking at the name, the thought came into my mind that this was where they send the toughest cases. The delinquents. The “rebellious individuals who refuse to surrender. A boot camp for the worst of the worst Christians who fail at being a Christian. Like when parents send their kids off to military school to “straighten them out”. I had no idea what to expect. Even after reading the information on the site I was still terrified. But I wanted so desperately to be fixed.

It was only after I watched a teaching by Mike Smith that I came to the full realization that I was still under attack. That all the thoughts I had were not my own. That there were still demons at work inside me and around me. That I wasn’t free. That they had been using both those around me and my own thoughts to skillfully orchestrate my destruction. That the images and thoughts I was having were not me but those of a completely separate entity inside me. Multiple ones at that.

It has been a process, dealing with the layers upon layers of spirits. One of the most important things is mind renewal. This is also a constant thing. An area that you can not, MUST NOT, become complacent in. Lack of mind renewal is like cracks in your armor. You MUST renew your mind and continue to do so. If you do not, the enemy will eat you up and spit you out. The demons will come back like bad relationships. You must get rid of your sin. Learn to hate your sin. Ask God to help you hate your sin.

Deliverance is a journey. The best news is that God is helping you through it. If you are born again, you have the Holy Spirit and you cannot lose.

If you suffer from anything like I have posted above, There is hope!!

Please contact mike@hardcorechristianity.com

https://hardcorechristianity.com/arizona-deliverance-center/

spiritual warfare

#DeliveranceTestimony #JesusSaves #ChristianTestimony #BornAgain #FreedomInChrist #SpiritualWarfare #DeliveranceMinistry #SetFree #OvercomingDarkness #BreakEveryChain #FaithJourney #NewCreation #GodsGrace #LifeInChrist #TestimonyTuesday

Symptoms of Demonic Operation in a Person

~ Observant Servant ~ 1 Comment

There is a conversation within Christianity that I once avoided because I did not know how to articulate what I had lived through. It revolves around a simple but uncomfortable question: can a born-again believer still be oppressed by demons?

I used to have strong opinions about that question. Now I move more slowly.

What I can say with humility is this: the Bible never plainly says that a Christian cannot experience demonic oppression. What it does show us, repeatedly, is that human beings can be inhabited, afflicted, tormented, and set free.

And I know what freedom feels like because I have received it.

Deliverance changed my life. It shifted the way I understand suffering — in myself and in others. It gave me compassion where I once had frustration. It allowed me to forgive people whose behavior once confused me, and it allowed me to forgive myself for struggles I could not explain.

When I read Mark 5 now, I no longer see just an extreme story about a man in tombs. I see a portrait of torment.

The man in the region of the Gerasenes was not merely troubled. He was isolated. He lived among the dead. He could not function in normal community. Chains could not restrain him. Night and day he cried out and cut himself.

It is easy to distance ourselves from that account. But when I slow down, I see patterns that are not as foreign as we might prefer.

There is the inability to live normally — the withdrawal, the strange pull toward isolation even while longing for connection. There is extreme behavior — anger that feels bigger than the moment, reactions that seem disproportionate, a volatility that harms both the individual and those nearby.

There are shifts in personality. The man said, “My name is Legion; for we are many.” That line used to intimidate me. Now it reminds me that fragmentation is not always psychological alone. Sometimes there are layers at work that counseling by itself cannot untangle.

There is restlessness. “Night and day he was crying out.” I remember seasons when sleep felt unreachable, when my body was exhausted but my mind would not rest. Psalm 127:2 says the Lord gives sleep to His beloved. When sleep becomes elusive without medical explanation, it is worth praying beyond the physical.

And then there is anguish.

Not ordinary grief. Not situational sadness. But a torment that lingers even when circumstances improve. A heaviness that does not respond to encouragement, logic, or willpower.

Mark 5 also shows self-harm. Mark 9 describes a spirit that threw a boy into fire and water to destroy him. These passages are sobering. They remind me that the enemy’s goal has always been destruction — not inconvenience, not mild discomfort, but destruction.

I write this carefully because I know how easily these conversations can become extreme or imbalanced. Not every struggle is demonic. There are real medical and psychological conditions that require compassionate, professional care. But neither should we ignore the spiritual dimension simply because it is uncomfortable.

My own experience with deliverance did not make me dramatic. It made me steadier. It did not make me suspicious of everyone. It made me more discerning. It did not make me arrogant. It made me grateful.

When the Lord exposed what was oppressing me and removed it, I felt something lift that I had assumed was simply “my personality” or “my weakness.” That experience reshaped how I see others. Instead of asking, “What is wrong with you?” I find myself asking, “What might be afflicting you?”

That shift alone has been a gift.

If someone reading this recognizes patterns in their own life — persistent torment, intrusive thoughts, uncontrollable rage, spiritual heaviness that does not yield — I would encourage prayerful discernment. Seek wise, grounded, biblically anchored help. Do not chase sensationalism. Do not isolate. Bring it into the light.

Jesus did not recoil from the man in the tombs. He crossed a sea to reach him.

And when the demons left, the man was found “clothed and in his right mind.”

That phrase moves me every time.

Clothed.
In his right mind.
At peace.

Freedom is not chaos. It is clarity. It is stability. It is rest.

If you are walking through something that feels darker than ordinary struggle, there is hope. There is no torment beyond Christ’s authority. There is no oppression He cannot confront. There is no chain He cannot break.

And sometimes the first step toward freedom is simply admitting that the battle may be more spiritual than you once believed.

demonic operation

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.

Overcoming the Spirit of Fear

~ Observant Servant

Do you find that you avoid certain people, things, or situations? Avoidance is typically considered a maladaptive behavioral response to excessive fear and anxiety. Christ can help you to gain victory over the spirit of fear through deliverance and mind renewal.

When I was first born again, the Lord set me free from many things. Though I didn’t know it at the time, He had been cleansing me of strong spirits left and right. It was a literal 7 day process. All I did during that time was pray. I didn’t even eat and I barely slept. I didn’t even know that I was “fasting” – I just knew in my heart that I should not eat.

 I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t understand it. I didn’t know what was happening to my body or why I was going through certain things.

 I didn’t know it was biblical.

“But an evil spirit of this kind is only driven out by prayer and fasting” – Matthew 17:21

I praise God for being set free of the many spirits that I had either willingly or unknowingly let in throughout my life while I was lost. He didn’t cleanse me of everything though. Things were left behind and I believe it was because I was to learn how to fight,how to get them out and keep them out.

A few days after I had gone through this process, I started hearing “threats” in my mind. They would say things like “You’ve got a target on your back. We are coming for you. We will destroy you. You belong to us. We are going to tear you apart.”

Spirits were tormenting me and I didn’t know how to stop it. I didn’t know what to do. I had no one to talk to because I didn’t know any Christians. I hadn’t even had a chance to find a church yet. I cried all day and asked God to hide me and protect me because I was unequipped and I didn’t know how to fight this onslaught. I did not know how to fight against an enemy that I could not see. The fear I was feeling was intense. I would hide in my apartment because I didn’t want to be out in the open for fear the enemy would use my surroundings to eliminate me.

That night before I went to bed, I cried out to God, begging for an answer. I prayed for over 4 hours straight because I was so desperate. When I woke up the next morning, the word “Ephesians” was in my heart. I didn’t know the Bible but I knew that this word was in the Bible. I’m not even sure if I knew it was a book.

At the time, all I had was a Gideon Bible so I looked it up and found the book of Ephesians.  I read it in its entirety learning what it means to be a Christian, and then I reached Ephesians 6:10-18. I knew that was the answer to my prayer. I knew God was showing me how to be strong and fight back. I didn’t have to live in fear.

I wrote it down. I read it aloud to myself every morning when I woke up and every night before I went to bed. I memorized it. I lived it. I breathed it. The tormenting voices stopped and I never heard them again.

This process that the Lord took me through was the renewing of my mind. I didn’t know it at the time. Again, I was still a baby Christian barely 2 weeks old in the Lord. The Holy Spirit was guiding me the entire way.

Renewing your mind is essential in being completely set free. When you read the Bible, especially after deliverance, the Holy Spirit builds you up using the promises of God. He leads you and guides you and grows in your inner man/woman. He takes up a greater amount of space so that the enemy can’t penetrate it. If you do not renew your mind, it is not only possible, but probable, that the enemy can find a chink in your armor and come back in and take up residence. And he will bring bigger/stronger friends.

“When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through dry places, seeking rest and findeth none. Then he saith, I will return into my house from whence I came out; and when he has come, he findeth it empty, swept and garnished. Then goeth he, and taketh with himself seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they eneter in and dwell there: and the last state of the man is worse than the first. Even so shall it be also unto this wicked generation.” – Matthew 12:43-45

Remember that God is with you. He wants to help you.

You may struggle with anxiety in interpersonal relationships, or going to the store, or dining alone or driving through big cities. I once struggled through all these things I just listed to a debilitating degree. I even dreaded going to counseling with other Christians because of it.  I still do struggle a little in other areas. It’s a constant battle but I have gotten stronger and you will too!

Remember that God has not given us a spirit of fear.

Anxiety is fear-based. The enemy wants you to feel anxiety. He wants you to be afraid to have tough conversations. He wants you to over-think. He wants you focused on yourself, how you are feeling, and imagining what others are thinking or saying about you because then you are taking your eyes off God.

Trust in God.

Talk to Him.

Repent for giving in to the spirit of fear and the negative thoughts that follow.

Read your Bible and renew your mind.

Your freedom will come through consistency of doing these things.

God bless you.

Father,

There was a time when fear felt louder than truth, when threats seemed more real than Your promises. If there is still any residue of fear hiding in me — expose it gently and remove it completely. I do not want to live avoiding people, places, or callings You have prepared for me because of torment that no longer has authority.

Lord, thank You for being patient with me when I did not understand what was happening. Thank You for cleansing me even when I didn’t have language for it. Thank You for guiding me when I was spiritually young and unequipped. You never left me alone in the battle.

Teach me to renew my mind daily. Help me not just to experience moments of freedom, but to walk in sustained freedom. Build Your Word so deeply into my heart that there is no empty space for the enemy to occupy. Strengthen the armor around my thoughts. Guard my imagination. Anchor my identity in who You say I am.

When fear whispers, remind me of Ephesians 6 — that I am not powerless, not exposed, not defenseless. Clothe me in truth. Establish me in righteousness. Plant my feet in the gospel of peace. Raise my shield of faith. Protect my mind with salvation. Place the sword of Your Spirit firmly in my hand.

If there are still places in me that need courage, grow it. If there are habits of avoidance that need to be confronted, give me grace to face them. I do not want to shrink back. I want to stand.

Holy Spirit, fill every space that deliverance has made clean. Occupy my thoughts. Govern my emotions. Make my inner life strong and steady. Let Your presence take up so much room in me that darkness finds no place to return.

I belong to You. I trust You. And I choose to walk forward — not hiding, not trembling — but strengthened, protected, and renewed.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

spirit of fear

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.