spiritual discernment

Guarding Peace in a Spiritual World

~ Observant Servant

I want to approach this carefully and thoughtfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s why grounding matters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#SpiritualWarfare #ChristianDeliverance #PoltergeistSpirits #DemonicManifestations #BiblicalProtection

Subtle Seduction of the Occult

~ Observant Servant

There’s a story that has stayed with me.

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

Later they discovered the truth. The flakes were asbestos.

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

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

But slowly destructive.

The occult is one of those things.

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

And yet Scripture is clear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that is the oldest lie.

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

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

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

That image sobers me.

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

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

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

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

The silver flakes glittered.

But they slowly stole breath.

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

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.