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.

Guarding Peace in a Spiritual World

~ Observant Servant

I want to approach this carefully and thoughtfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s why grounding matters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#SpiritualWarfare #ChristianDeliverance #PoltergeistSpirits #DemonicManifestations #BiblicalProtection

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

~ Observant Servant

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

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

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

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

The battle is not the person.

That shift changes everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

These are not comfortable reflections. But they are necessary.

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

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

God is not only working on them.

He is working on me.

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

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

Growth is quieter than I expected.

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

And little by little, the rough edges soften.

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

Father,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Form Christ in me.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

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

The Reason behind the Storm

~ Observant Servant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scripture doesn’t support that conclusion.

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes God permits what He intends to redeem.

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

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

It truly can feel darkest before the dawn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Father,

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

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

Make us gentle helpers. Wise intercessors. Steady friends.

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

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Baptism Do-over

~ Observant Servant

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

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

Years passed.

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

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

Instead of excitement, I felt dread.

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

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

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

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

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

What was wrong with me?

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

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

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

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

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

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

But something deeper in me knew this was a moment.

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

Prayer began.

And what had been hidden surfaced.

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

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

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

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

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

That verse feels personal to me now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it does come.

Father,

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

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

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

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

baptism

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

Subtle Seduction of the Occult

~ Observant Servant

There’s a story that has stayed with me.

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

Later they discovered the truth. The flakes were asbestos.

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

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

But slowly destructive.

The occult is one of those things.

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

And yet Scripture is clear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that is the oldest lie.

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

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

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

That image sobers me.

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

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

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

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

The silver flakes glittered.

But they slowly stole breath.

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

Father,

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

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

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

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

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

In Jesus’ name, amen.

WARNING ABOUT THE OCCULT

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