The "Fall" Season

The battlefield has never been out in the open; it has always been the quiet, chaotic terrain of my mind. I have learned the hard way that the devil and his demons do not often appear as monsters in the dark, but as whispers in our thoughts, designed to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10).

My journey began years ago in a season of profound disillusionment. I came to the crushing realization that the love I received from those around me was a counterfeit. It was transactional—people did not love me; they loved my performance, my results, and the sense of worthiness I provided them. Feeling bankrupt in a loveless world, I decided to check out. I attempted to exit this life by my own hand.

But right at the precipice of death, a counter-acting thought pierced through the darkness. It was a truth I hadn't considered: I do not own myself.

The realization was sharp and immediate. As Scripture says, "You are not your own; you were bought at a price" (1 Corinthians 6:19-20). Only God is the Author of life, and He alone holds the authority to decide the time and manner of my exit. Humbled by this, I stepped back from the knife and restarted my life, clinging to the gospel of Christ.

Years passed, and the initial peace wore thin. I found myself crying out to God with critical desires and prayers, desperate for intervention. The heavens remained silent. Deep resentment set in. I felt abandoned. Once again, the enemy attacked my thoughts, convincing me that a God who doesn't answer isn't worth living for. I orchestrated an "accident" to end my life, masking my intent.

Miraculously, I survived. Amidst the wreckage, I didn't hear a scolding, but a declaration of sovereign magnitude that silenced my anger:

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” (Isaiah 55:8-9)

I was humbled by the vastness of His perspective compared to my limited view. For the second time, I restarted my life with the gospel of Christ.

Yet, the war for my mind was not over. Years later, I faced a situation where it seemed God not only stayed silent but allowed evil to triumph over me. I was crushed by circumstances and authorities that seemed unjust. My anger returned, fiercer than before. I demanded an answer from God. I opened my Bible, daring Him to explain why He let me suffer.

I struggled to accept the answer I found, but the truth of it eventually won me over. It changed my perspective on how God uses authority to discipline and shape us:

“For the one in authority is God’s servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for rulers do not bear the sword for no reason. They are God’s servants, agents of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer. Therefore, it is necessary to submit to the authorities, not only because of possible punishment but also as a matter of conscience.”(Romans 13:4-5)

I realized that even in painful submission, God was working. I bowed my head and restarted my life with the gospel again.

But the enemy had one last stronghold: my own flesh. As time went on, I realized that despite knowing scripture, I was continuously under the power and bondage of sin. I felt like the Apostle Paul when he cried, "What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death?" (Romans 7:24).

I began to suspect that perhaps God wasn't real, or that the gospel had no power to actually change me. I grew numb. I was ready to walk away forever. But a relentless inner voice urged me: Study the gospel properly. Just one last time.

I dedicated two months to deep, immersive study. The numbness began to thaw. I finally saw the full picture of redemption—that through Christ, the power of sin is broken. And, I saw it broken in my life.

I restarted my life with the gospel of Christ, but this time, it was different. I was no longer just reading; I was voraciously consuming the Word as a weapon. In this season, I realized that we are not meant to fight in our own strength, but to be equipped by Him & by His Spirit.

“Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.” (Ephesians 6:11)

Today, I stand. The attacks still come, but I see them for what they are. And sometimes, in the heat of the battle, I do not just survive; I see the promise of Romans 16:20 coming to pass before my eyes: "The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet."