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

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.

Healing of the Heart and the Role of Deliverance

~ Observant Servant

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

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

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

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

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

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

Father,

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

Lord, I bring my heart to You again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I surrender my heart to You completely.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

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.

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