Holy Spirit

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

The Gift of Hate: A Forgotten Weapon for Christian Freedom

~ Observant Servant

There is a kind of language in Scripture that feels strong, almost uncomfortable at first glance.

“Abhor what is evil; cling to what is good.”
— Romans 12:9

That word abhor isn’t mild. It isn’t polite. It means to recoil. To reject something with conviction. And if I’m honest, there have been seasons when I’ve tried to follow Christ without fully embracing that part.

I’ve loved what is good. I’ve pursued growth. I’ve prayed for freedom. But I’ve also, at times, tolerated what God clearly calls harmful. Not because I wanted rebellion, but because some things felt familiar. Some compromises felt small. Some habits didn’t seem urgent enough to confront.

And yet Scripture doesn’t suggest a casual relationship with sin. It doesn’t say “be cautious around evil.” It says abhor it.

That challenges me.

Because this isn’t about hating people. It’s not about harshness or condemnation. It’s about recognizing that sin destroys what God loves. And if I truly love what He loves, I cannot stay neutral toward what harms it.

Psalm 97:10 says, “You who love the Lord, hate evil.”

Love and hate feel like opposites to us, but in this context they’re deeply connected. If I love freedom, I will hate what enslaves. If I love truth, I will hate deception. If I love the people in my life, I will hate whatever seeks to wound or bind them.

I’ve come to realize something uncomfortable: sometimes we stay stuck not because we lack prayer, but because we haven’t fully decided we’re done.

Sin can feel good for a moment. Compromise can feel manageable. Certain patterns can feel like home simply because they’re familiar. And familiarity can dull conviction.

There were times in my own walk when I tried to “manage” certain weaknesses instead of confronting them. I would ask for strength while still secretly tolerating the very thing that kept me bound.

Freedom didn’t begin until tolerance ended.

Hebrews 12:1 tells us to “lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us.” That language is intentional. Lay it aside. Not negotiate with it. Not rename it. Not make peace with it.

Lay it down.

I’ve learned that holy hatred is not loud or dramatic. It’s a quiet resolve. It’s the moment when something in you says, “This is not who I am in Christ anymore.”

It sharpens discernment. Things that once felt gray become clearer. It changes how you pray. You begin praying not casually, but with conviction. You begin asking God to uproot, not just manage.

And yet, even here, humility matters.

Because this is not about self-righteousness. It’s not about looking at someone else’s struggle and feeling superior. It’s about standing before God and saying, “Search me. If there is anything in me that grieves You, I don’t want it.”

Hebrews 5:14 speaks of having our senses trained to discern good from evil. That training happens in the Word. It happens in surrender. It happens when we stop softening language around sin and start calling it what it is.

But we must be careful.

We hate the sin. We never hate the person.

Jesus was unwavering toward evil, yet tender toward the broken. He confronted bondage without crushing the bound. That balance humbles me. I don’t want a heart that is hard. I want a heart that is aligned.

The more I love God, the more I want to love what He loves and reject what diminishes His work in me.

Romans 12:9 does not stand alone. It pairs two commands together: “Abhor what is evil; cling to what is good.”

It is not enough to reject darkness. We must cling to light. Not loosely. Cling.

If there is something in your life that still quietly holds you, maybe the invitation isn’t to try harder. Maybe it’s to become honest enough to say, “Lord, I am tired of this. I don’t want it anymore.”

The day you stop excusing what binds you is often the day freedom begins to feel possible.

Not because you are strong, but because you have decided you agree with God.

And agreeing with Him is always the beginning of liberty.

Father,

Search me gently.

If there is anything in my heart that I have tolerated simply because it felt familiar, bring it into the light. If I have grown comfortable with what You call harmful, awaken me. I do not want to manage what You desire to remove.

Teach me to love what You love and to reject what diminishes Your work in me. Not with harshness. Not with pride. But with clarity. With conviction. With humility.

If there are patterns that still bind me, give me the courage to call them what they are. If I have excused what You have warned against, forgive me. I don’t want partial freedom. I want wholeness.

Lord, purify my loves. Align my heart with Yours. Let my agreement be with truth, not temptation. Strengthen my resolve where I have been weak. Soften my heart where I have grown indifferent.

And as I turn away from what harms, draw me closer to what heals. Help me cling to what is good. Help me rest in what is righteous. Help me remember that Your commands are not burdens — they are protection.

Make my life clean before You. Not performative. Not self-righteous. Just surrendered.

I want to walk free.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

silent prayer

Knit Together in Love: Why Unity Protects Against Spiritual Attack

~ Observant Servant

Why Being Knit Together in Love Matters

I’ve been thinking a lot about how fragile unity can be — and how powerful it is when it’s protected.

Scripture speaks of believers being “knit together in love.” That phrase feels intentional to me. Knitting takes patience. It takes care. Thread woven through thread until something strong is formed. It doesn’t happen accidentally.

Colossians 3:14 says, “Above all, put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.”

Love is described as something that binds. Holds. Secures.

And yet, I’ve seen how easily that binding can loosen when we stop guarding it.

Disunity rarely begins with something dramatic. It often starts quietly. A misunderstood comment. An unspoken offense. A conversation held in the wrong tone. Bitterness that goes unaddressed. Gossip that feels harmless in the moment.

Ephesians 4:27 says, “Do not give the devil a foothold.”

That word foothold stays with me. It suggests something small at first — a crack in the wall. A place to stand. And once that space is given, it doesn’t stay small.

I’ve felt how division drains a room. How tension weakens prayer. How unresolved hurt makes worship feel heavy. It’s not just relational. It’s spiritual.

Psalm 133 says, “Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity… For there the Lord commanded the blessing.”

There. In unity.

That tells me something sobering. Blessing flows where unity is guarded. When unity erodes, something vital is affected.

I’ve seen ministries unravel not because of lack of gifting, but because of unresolved conflict. I’ve seen families strained because pride was protected instead of peace. I’ve seen churches lose their clarity because love was assumed instead of practiced.

And if I’m honest, I’ve had to confront my own heart in this.

It’s easy to talk about unity in theory. It’s harder to choose humility when you feel misunderstood. It’s harder to forgive quickly when you believe you were right. It’s harder to guard your words when emotions are high.

Philippians 2:3–4 tells us to “value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.”

That kind of humility does not come naturally. It is chosen.

Unity doesn’t mean uniformity. It doesn’t mean pretending differences don’t exist. It means choosing love over ego. Choosing reconciliation over being right. Choosing to protect the bond rather than prove a point.

I’ve learned that unity must be tended like a garden. Forgiveness has to be practiced daily. Offenses must be addressed gently before they take root. Conversations must be had in the open rather than in whispers.

When Christ remains at the center, perspective shifts. We remember we are one body under one Head. We are not competing pieces. We are connected.

First Corinthians 12 reminds us that we belong to one another. That truth humbles me. My words affect the body. My attitude affects the body. My willingness to forgive strengthens the body.

Unity is not weakness. It is protection.

When love binds us together, the enemy has fewer places to stand. When humility replaces pride, footholds disappear. When forgiveness is quick, division struggles to survive.

I don’t want to be the thread that snaps.

I want to be someone who protects the weave. Who chooses patience. Who refuses gossip. Who prays for those I struggle to understand. Who keeps Christ at the center even when emotions try to move Him aside.

“Above all, put on love.”

Above being right.
Above being heard.
Above winning the argument.

Put on love.

Because when love binds us together, the fabric holds.

And where unity is guarded, God’s presence rests in a way that nothing else can replicate.

Father,

Search my heart where unity is concerned.

If there is pride in me that resists humility, soften it. If there is offense I have allowed to linger, bring it gently to the surface so I can release it. I do not want to be a place where division finds room to grow.

Teach me to value peace more than being right. Guard my words from carelessness. Guard my thoughts from suspicion. Guard my heart from bitterness that tries to disguise itself as discernment.

Lord, help me walk in the kind of love that binds rather than separates. When misunderstandings arise, give me patience. When conflict comes, give me gentleness. When I am tempted to withdraw or defend myself, remind me that unity is worth protecting.

Keep Christ at the center of every relationship You’ve placed in my life. Let humility anchor me. Let forgiveness come quickly. Let reconciliation matter more than reputation.

If there are cracks forming anywhere around me — in my home, my church, my friendships — show me how to be a bridge instead of a barrier. Make me mindful that my attitude and my words carry weight.

Above all, clothe me in love. Bind my heart to Yours so closely that division has no foothold. May my life contribute to harmony, not fracture. May I help strengthen the weave, not unravel it.

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

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

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

The Art of Surrender

~ Observant Servant

There was a story I once heard that has stayed with me.

A dog escaped from the groomer and ran away. His owner searched for him all day and all night. She refused to stop looking. Finally, the next evening, she spotted him in the distance. She called out and ran toward him. But instead of running back with confidence, the dog dropped low to the ground, whining, frightened. His fur was filthy and tangled with briars. When she reached him, he was so overwhelmed with relief that he trembled. She scooped him up and whispered, “You are mine. You are safe now. I never stopped looking for you. I’m taking you home.”

I cannot hear that story without thinking of Jesus.

For years, I thought people had to clean themselves up before coming to God. I thought maybe I did too. There’s something in us that wants to present a polished version of ourselves — less messy, less broken, less tangled in briars. We imagine that if we could just fix a few things first, then we would be worthy enough to approach Him.

But Scripture gently dismantles that illusion.

“There is none righteous, no, not one” (Romans 3:10).

Not one.

That includes me. That includes you.

The lie that we must earn our way back is subtle, but it is powerful. It keeps people hiding. It keeps them stuck in shame. It convinces them that salvation is a reward for good behavior instead of what it truly is — a gift purchased by the blood of Christ.

“For by grace are ye saved through faith… not of works” (Ephesians 2:8–9).

Grace does not wait for you to get clean. Grace comes running toward you while you are still tangled and trembling.

Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). He did not say, “I am the way once you fix yourself.” He did not say, “Come back when you are presentable.” He simply said He is the way.

When I think about that dog lying in the dirt, afraid and ashamed, I see so many of us. We assume God must be disappointed. We expect Him to scold us. Instead, He gathers us up.

You are mine.
You are safe now.
I never stopped looking for you.

He does not wait for you to untangle yourself. He takes you home and begins the cleansing Himself. He removes what harms you. He heals what was wounded. He restores what was lost.

That is the heart of Jesus.

If you are waiting to “get your life together,” stop waiting. Come as you are. Bring the dirt. Bring the fear. Bring the shame. Lay it down at His feet. He is not shocked by your condition. He is moved by your surrender.

He never gave up on you.

And He never will.

Prayer

Lord Jesus,

Thank You for never stopping the search for me. Thank You that You do not wait for me to clean myself up before calling me Yours. Forgive me for believing the lie that I must earn Your love. I lay down my shame, my fear, and my tangled places at Your feet.

Take me home, Lord. Cleanse what needs cleansing. Heal what needs healing. Remove what is harmful and replace it with new life. Teach me to rest in Your grace instead of striving in my own strength. I come to You as I am. I trust You to make me new.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

GraceAlone #ComeAsYouAre #JesusSaves #SavedByGrace #Redemption #UnconditionalLove #FaithJourney #GospelTruth #ObservantServant

Learning to Pray

~ Observant Servant

I’ve noticed something about the way I enter prayer now. Almost without thinking, I begin with gratitude.

Before I ever get to requests, before I remember the list of names in my journal, my heart just starts thanking Him. For breath. For protection through the night. For quiet mercies I would have missed if I wasn’t paying attention. There are mornings when I come to Him with intention — specific needs, specific burdens — and yet I never make it past praise. I simply sit there, overwhelmed by the goodness of God.

The Lord already knows what we need. Jesus said as much. And sometimes I sense that He invites me not first to ask, but to remember. To remember who He is. To remember what He has already done. Thanksgiving steadies my heart. It reminds me that I am not approaching a reluctant God, but a faithful Father.

At the same time, I’ve learned that gratitude is not meant to replace honest desire. There was a season, especially when I was newly born again, when praying for others came so naturally to me. I was surrounded by people who didn’t know Christ, and I had just tasted the depth of His mercy. I wanted everyone to feel that freedom. I would spend long stretches of time pleading for softened hearts, for salvation, for breakthrough in other people’s lives.

But when it came to praying for myself, something in me hesitated.

I already had Jesus. What more could I possibly need?

It felt selfish to ask for anything personal. I would shorten my own prayers. Minimize my own needs. I didn’t want to “take up time,” as if the Creator of heaven and earth were inconvenienced by my voice. Looking back, I can see how subtle that lie was. It sounded humble, but it was actually distance.

What kind of relationship would it be if a child barely spoke their needs to a loving parent? God is not irritated by our desires. He is not exhausted by our requests. He invites them. He shapes them. He sometimes refines them. But He wants them brought into the light.

Scripture says, “Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints” (Ephesians 6:18, KJV). That includes praying for the saints. And sometimes, that saint is you.

The enemy will gladly keep you interceding for everyone else while quietly silencing your own heart. He will whisper that your needs are small, or unworthy, or already covered. But recognizing that whisper for what it is changes everything. When I began to see that reluctance as spiritual resistance, something shifted in me. I started bringing my own heart before the Lord with the same earnestness I used for others.

Now my prayer life feels less like a performance and more like a conversation. Some days it is gratitude. Some days it is intercession. Some days it is quiet surrender. And some days it is simply honesty.

Every day is a gift within a gift — another chance to draw near, to work alongside Him, to grow in trust. Even in hard seasons, I can find something to thank Him for. Even in uncertainty, I can bring Him what I lack.

He does not tire of hearing from us.

And I am learning not to tire of coming to Him.