“I will exalt you, Lord, for you rescued me.
You refused to let my enemies triumph over me.”
Just a reminder: our Enemy is a liar. Do not entertain his fantasies.
They are false. They are not true.
We’ve all experienced the moment the Enemy plops a meticulously planned memory in our minds. It’s sprinkled with elements of truth, but it’s not true. It’s old content, but looks like it’s happening right now. And though it’s twisted, it feels real. We think we want it because it’s there. We can feel it, taste it, touch it.
Newsflash: It’s not actually there. It’s an illusion.
Nonetheless, we willingly toy with the temptation to say yes to distress, to dance with the darkness of our minds.
But in spite of who we are,
God says no when we don’t.
In His goodness, faithfulness, and love, God rescues us from the mental trap of illusion. He refuses to let our enemy triumph over us with untruths. Our Father whispers through light, space, and time, “It’s a lie.“
He exposes the weakness of the enemy’s lies – every time. He pulls off the mask held over our faces; allowing us to see, hear, and smell the fabricated fantasy for what it truly is: false.
Let’s get one thing clear: spiritual deliverance is a necessary component for every believer. As we walk this walk, generational spiritual wounds of sin and shame must be uplifted, and the ground where they once stood must be drenched in the blood of Jesus.
But years after the deliverance has happened, the enemy attempts to convince us that we need to be delivered again – that this old thing has come back.
It hasn’t. That’s a lie.
One time, the Lord gave me a vision. It came on the heels of 40 days of fasting for deliverance from an intense sexual stronghold.
I saw an moving image on a wall; a short film played out as a projection. It felt 4D- I could hear it, feel it, taste it. It was a fabricated sinful sexual situation; a composition of recycled garbage from my past. But on the floor next to the wall was a bucket of bright red paint and a paint roller. As I dipped the roller into the bucket of crimson, and rolled it up and down the wall, the mural faded into oblivion. As the red paint washed over the sinful flick, the wall turned white. The projected film that once felt so real had been exposed as a fleeting hologram; one completely subjected to red paint – the beautiful blood of Jesus.
Let us never forget the power of the blood of Jesus. Let us take up our paint rollers and apply the blood to any and every thought that exalts itself above the knowledge of Christ; for the enemy’s calculated lies are never in competition for truth.
Truth wins every time.