It’s not flesh and blood

We wrestle not against flesh and blood—

yet it feels that way, doesn’t it?

When the tension rises,

when the words cut deep,

when the silence screams louder than the shouting ever could.

We point fingers, hearts on edge, teeth clenched.

We accuse.

We assume.

We retreat.

We retaliate.

And all the while,

those we should be wrestling—

the shadows that slither in silence,

the serpents that sow division—

they slip by,

unnoticed,

unhindered.

Because we’ve turned on each other.

It feels personal, doesn’t it?

It feels like you against them,

like your battle is with the one who hurt you,

the one who betrayed you,

the one who walked away

or the one who stayed but made you wish they hadn’t.

But there is more than flesh in this fight.

More than blood.

More than what your eyes can see.

There is a realm unseen—

a darkness ancient and cruel,

an enemy cunning and relentless,

bent on your division,

your despair,

your defeat.

This war is not with your brother.

The true enemy is hiding behind the curtain of the visible, whispering lies through familiar voices, turning wounds into weapons,

turning hearts into battlegrounds.

But hear this:

It is not you against them.

It never was.

It is us—the children of the Light—

against the darkness that threatens us.

So drop the stones.

Unclench your fists.

Fall to your knees.

And fight the right fight.

Fight in prayer.

Fight in truth.

Fight with the weapons that tear down strongholds: forgiveness, grace, mercy,

truth.

We are not enemies.

We are allies in a war too great to fight alone.

Heaven is watching.

Hell is trembling.

And you—child of God—are not alone.

So rise up.

Not in anger.

Not in bitterness.

But in holy defiance of the darkness.

It’s not you against them.

It’s us,

arm in arm,

shoulder to shoulder,

heart to heart,

against the dark. 🤍