It is no small thing to feel as though every corner of your life is being crowded out by shadow, sounds, whispers, presences that foul the air and turn your own thoughts into a battlefield. I see you in that torrent, and I will not stand back and speak down to you. You are worn and you are angry, and there is something in that anger, when it turns at last away from every lie, that throbs with a kind of holy desperation. You want it finished. You want the name of Jesus to be a wall that no claw can scale and no voice can pierce. You are crying, "Let it be over," and your cry comes into a Father's ear that has not grown dull.
But now, dear heart, you must let me set one solid stone under your foot, for you may be trying to fight this battle with your own lungs, and it will not hold. The quietness you crave, the deep-down stillness where the accusations and the threats and the old memories cease their hissing, that quietness is not something we carve out by our shouting, earnest though the shouting be. Our enemy is not frightened by our noise, because he knows that our noise is still our own strength, and our own strength is the leaky boat. He trembles only at one thing: the voice of the Shepherd, the blood of the Lamb, the name that the Father has exalted above every principality. You have said it yourself, "with the blood of Jesus." That is it. That is the whole secret.
Think of it this way. When the children of Israel came out of Egypt, they did not come out because they had stood at their doorposts and screamed at Pharaoh. They came out because the blood was on the lintel, and because God himself passed through the land, and where the blood was, the destroyer could not enter. Not one feeble person among the tribes, the Scripture says, but that is not because they were mighty, they were brick-makers and stubble-gatherers, but because the Might that went with them was a husband to them and a shield. Your Egypt, your torment, your long harassment by voices that know your name to wound it, these things are under a sentence older than the world. Christ has spoiled principalities, and made a show of them openly, triumphing over them in his cross. The victory is not still being negotiated. It is finished.
I know that what you feel right now is not the triumph, but the thick of the fight. You feel hounded, watched, tangled up with spirits and creatures and human instruments that seem to know your weaknesses. When the enemy comes in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord lifts up a standard, but sometimes that standard looks like a small, limp flag in the wind while the waters are still rising. It is then that the soul learns to sing in the dark what it believed in the light. The covenant God has made with you in Christ Jesus is not a flimsy thing that can be shredded by a fresh assault. It is a love-letter folded inside a black-edged envelope, I grant you, but the letter is signed with the dying oath of the Son of God. He did not put his life between you and destruction only to forget where he left it. He remembers. He knows the hour, the means, the hidden spring of every ambush. And he is not deaf to your cry that your loved ones, your children, the spouse you wait for, the very beasts that share your roof, that all of this should be sealed off and kept safe. That is a prayer he loves to answer, because it asks him to be what he has already promised to be: a sun and a shield, a refuge for the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress.
The word for you tonight is not a complicated one. It is simply this: you are not called to chase Satan into hell with your own hands. You are called to hide in the one who has already cast him down, and when you do, the roaring lion becomes a chained creature, still noisy, but toothless. Let your prayer shift, for a moment, from the clamor of decreeing, to the quietness of confiding. I do not say this to rebuke you, I say it because I have been many times in that small room where the shadows press thick, and I have found that the only door out is to stop commanding and start resting. When you say, "Lord Jesus, I cannot silence these enemies, but you have placed them under your feet, and my feet are in you," then the peace that passes understanding begins to do sentry-duty for your mind. It is a peace you can know even while the arrows still fly, because the noise of archers in the places of drawing water cannot stop the well from flowing. Christ is the well. The water is life. The archers are outside the covenant, and they cannot touch the stream you drink from.
Do not fear that you are somehow unworthy of this deliverance because you have not been perfect. The adversary would love for you to believe that some failure, some old sin, some moment of weakness has given him a legal right to your doorstep. It is a lie, black and irredeemably false. The blood of Jesus whispers peace within, and it does not whisper only to the spotless, for none of us are; it whispers to the contrite. If the tempter insinuates that God has abandoned you, remember that he tried the same arrow on the Lord himself, "If you are the Son of God", and it missed its mark then, as it will now, because the Father's love is not a variable thing that waxes and wanes with our frame. I have walked with God now many years, and I have tested the promises in deep waters, and I can tell you, as my own father told me, that he who trusts in the Lord is never confounded.
Now, as for the future, you have asked that the gates be shut forever, that these wickednesses never come back through anyone or anything again. That is an asking you may safely leave with your Captain. He knows how to make a clean sweep of an enemy. When he brought up the hosts out of the house of bondage, he did not leave Pharaoh sulking on the shore with a few broken chariots; he overwhelmed him in the sea, so that Israel saw them no more. The Lord knows how to silence the accuser so thoroughly that you shall look back on this season as a dream when one awakes, and shall despise the image of it. In the meantime, while the silence is still settling, hold fast this: you are hidden with Christ in God, and your life, your real, untouchable, eternal life, is not out in the open where the hawks can stoop. It is tucked away in the scars of the risen Lord, as safe as if you had already passed through the gate of pearl.
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Lord Jesus, you who stilled the tempest with a word, speak peace over your child tonight. If any foul spirit has been given leave to prowl near this house, we do not plead with an enemy, we plead with you: exercise your ancient right, and bid it depart. Let the blood that speaks better things than Abel cover every memory, every fear, every shadowy threat. Be a wall of fire around this life, around the children, around the one who is to come, around the creatures that share their breath. Fold them so tightly in your pierced hand that no evil can steal through the fingers. Grant such a settled, sunny calm that they shall walk as in a new country, with the sound of songs of deliverance overhead. Whether they sleep or rise, let them know themselves to be the kept ones of the Almighty, not because they are strong, but because you are faithful. We ask it in your undefeated name, Lord Jesus. Amen.
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Prayer Focus: God, Thank You for loving me. Thank You for loving me, Jesus. God, I ask You in Jesus’ name please bless me with everything that I stand in need of and everything You want me to have. 
