Protected by God, Chased by the Devil

I am weightless. I’m floating in a vast, silent void — the kind of darkness you’d feel if you were drifting alone in the cold abyss of outer space. I can’t hear anything. I can’t see light of any kind. I can’t even feel my body.

I don’t know where I am.

I don’t know how I got here.

All I know is that I’m not on the bedroom floor anymore.

Just a moment ago, I was lying on the coarse beige carpet with my friends crowded around me, surrounded by the laughter of my friends and the faded neon ink of our rock posters hanging on the walls.

Now I’m swallowed by darkness so deep it feels like a living thing. I’m not in my body. I’m floating into nothingness, disconnected from the physical world, rising into cold air.

When I was around nine years old, my neighbor friends and I played many games together. We spent the longest days of summer vacation biking and exploring the outdoors until the streetlights came on, and at night, we’d often get together for sleepovers.

On this night, I had gathered with three friends at one of their houses. We had big plans. We were going to play a popular game called Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board.

The game’s premise is that one person lies down on the floor, surrounded by the other players, who each place a finger—just one—under their body. Then, a specific chant is recited several times, and the person supposedly levitates like a weightless feather, gently floating atop the fingers of the other players.

Even at that young age, I had already earned a reputation around the neighborhood as the bubbly, spiritual girl, so it wasn’t a surprise when my friends volunteered me as the night’s designated levitator. More than that, I was the tiniest among my friend group. At only about fifty pounds, I was virtually as light as a feather back then, but not so light that what I experienced should have happened.

I lay down on the cool bedroom carpet, the room lit only by the flickering glow of candles. A nervous excitement hung in the air, but none of us truly believed anything would happen. I was small, but my friends were hardly strong enough to lift much either.

We were all pretty sure this Light as a Feather business was just an urban legend, but we hoped we were wrong. We needed a cool story to tell around the playground once school started back up. The tiny flames of the candles danced across the walls as each of the three girls knelt beside me and placed one of their tiny, child-sized fingers underneath me.

They started chanting in soft, high-pitched voices that barely carried across the quiet room.

“Light as a feather… stiff as a board…”

Again.

“Light as a feather… stiff as a board…”

I felt myself rising. At first, I thought they were just lifting me. I expected to feel their fingers, their giggles, the strain of their arms under me.

But I don't feel anything.

Their voices fade.

The room dissolves.

I could no longer hear the sounds of their chanting. Instead, I felt bathed in a void of darkness—like floating in outer space. I no longer felt restrained in the shell of my body but instead sensed that I was in a darkened realm. There were only the sounds of nothingness to accompany me.

Suddenly, the darkness ruptured. Rough hands grabbed at my shirt, violently yanking me back toward the floor as shouting broke through the void.

Hands grabbed my shirt. Voices screamed my name in a desperate plea to come down from the ceiling. I was yanked awake so fast it felt like falling through a dream.

My eyes flew open to see the ceiling right above me — way too close — and my friends pulling me down with terrified little hands.

The moment I saw them, I dropped to the floor with a heavy thud that knocked the breath out of me.

We stared at each other in absolute shock. Tears streamed down one girl’s face; another was trembling violently as her jaw appeared locked in fear.

No one said a word. We all felt the unseen presence that had stepped into the room. My friends scrambled for the doorway and fled into the night, leaving me alone in the dim candlelit silence.

No one ever mentioned it again. In fact, they ditched me after that night, and I was left in the neighborhood without any friends.

Although it was heartbreaking for me at the time, I don’t blame them for it now. They sensed the danger of the evil we were playing with that night. By taking part in this childish and dangerous ritual, I suffered the real-world consequence of losing my friends and continued unwelcome spiritual experiences.

By playing this game, I had dabbled yet again in the occult, which poked more holes in my defenses against spiritual attacks. I began to experience intensified spiritual warfare as a result, especially in the form of sleep paralysis.

I’m an example of someone who has been profoundly connected to the spiritual realm from a very young age, and I've struggled through the years to understand its implications in their entirety. I had significant growing pains when leaving childish things such as playing with spirit boards and games like Light as a Feather. And as I entered adulthood, the form of childish things only changed, shifting to crystals, yoga, witchcraft, seances, mediumship, and Reiki.

As a result, my life was plagued with spiritual warfare for many years.

This book details those encounters and my journey to embracing God's protection.

The Lived Experience of Spiritual Warfare

This book will not be mostly stories that are from my life about spiritual warfare attacks and my fight to find my way back to God. However, it is important to have a foundation of understanding about spiritual warfare, its origin and why we are attacked.

Right now, at his very moment, a war is unfolding. You may not see it, but it’s there. Constant. Ruthless. Relentless. Two kingdoms are locked in battle: one ruled by a sovereign and holy God, the other by a master of deception named Satan. This isn’t allegory. This is reality. We are fighting not for comfort or prosperity, but for our souls and the eternity they’re destined for.

We’ve all heard the saying, What you don’t know won’t hurt you. But when it comes to the soul, nothing could be further from the truth. The reality is, truth hurts—sometimes deeply.

Some of what you’ll read in these pages may be difficult to accept. I can’t force you to embrace it, nor would I want to. Before writing this book, I spent considerable time praying and reflecting on how to present the truth in a way that wouldn’t wound—how I could share my stories and deliver God’s word like a warm mug of hot chocolate: comforting, familiar, and safe.

But God made it clear to my heart that truth isn’t meant to win popularity. I’d rather stand before Him with honest scars than lead anyone astray with comfortable lies.

As I began to write, I made a promise to God and myself: not to dilute the truth. I won’t reshape it just to ease discomfort or calm anger. Because stripped of its raw power, truth loses its meaning—and we lose sight of what we’re fighting.

For years, I moved through life like a shadow—present, yet not truly alive. I drifted through the days aimless and unaware, numb to the battle raging beneath the surface. And if I’m honest, I wish someone had shattered my comfort with the truth long ago… even if it bruised my pride. I’ve learned: sugar-coated words only rot the soul. How can we truly trust anyone who only feeds us what we want to hear?

It was by God’s fierce and unyielding grace that the blindfold slipped. Suddenly, I could see it—that subtle but sinister force pulling at the sacred thread of holiness woven into each of us. That awareness became my armor. It urged me to focus on God’s light—not just to survive, but to fight for the sanctity of my soul.

So I made a vow. With everything in me, I would spend the rest of my life declaring what I now know—sharing this hard-won truth and devoting my days to Him and to His people. This book is my first strike. I’m putting my heart on these pages so you can witness what I’ve witnessed: evil doesn’t knock. It just walks in when we aren’t watching.

Spiritual warfare isn’t lurking in the shadows or hiding in distant realms—it’s unfolding here, now, in plain sight. It’s not suspended above the clouds or buried beneath the earth. This battle plays out while you sit in traffic, pass the salt at dinner, tuck your children in for the night. It’s woven into the ordinary moments, right where you live and breathe.

Whether we like it or not, we are soldiers in this fight. And this war doesn’t clock out. It doesn’t hang back or hit pause. It doesn’t wait for us to be ready. Since creation’s first breath, it has raged, and it continues without rest.

Spiritual warfare is happening every second. Every minute. Every hour. Every single day. It has pierced the fabric of history and will keep roaring through time until the heavens split and God calls His own home. There is no escape. No neutral ground.

So, we must prepare. We must protect.

And for those still looking for proof, turn on your screen. You see the fingerprints of evil in the shattered glass spread across a school hallway and the cold silence left behind in a home torn apart by violence.

We tend to brush off the world's horrors as terrible coincidences, but this chaos is not random. It bears the unmistakable marks of dark spiritual forces working relentlessly to destroy human lives.

The Origins of Spiritual Warfare

Let’s go back, way back, to the very first sin committed by Satan himself when he was still known as Lucifer: pride.

    Originally one of heaven’s highest-ranking angels, Lucifer was blessed by God beyond measure. He was arrayed in radiant light, crowned with woven jewels, and given a high position among the burning stars of God's holy mountain.

Yet, despite every heavenly perfection bestowed upon him, gratitude gave way to pride. It was not enough to serve.

    He wanted more.

    Ezekiel 28:17 tells us that Lucifer’s “heart was proud” because of his beauty. All the blessings God had bestowed upon him went to his head, and he was willing to risk everything for his pride. Believing he deserved the same reverence and authority as God Himself, Lucifer attempted to overthrow Him.

Isaiah 14:13–14 reveals his ambition:

"I will raise my throne above the stars of God... I will ascend to the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High."

    Of course, there is only one Most High God worthy of worship—and He was left with no choice but to deal with Lucifer’s sinful pride. So, He cast him out of heaven and down to Earth (Isaiah 14:15). From that moment, Lucifer became known as Satan, which means “adversary.”

    While in heaven, Satan was an adversary of God. But after being cast out, he found a new battleground on Earth, and his mission changed. If he couldn’t take down God Himself, he would go for the next best thing: God’s children.

    Determined to lead as many souls away from God’s holiness and love as possible, Satan set his sights on humanity. This is how the battle for our souls came to be called into spiritual warfare.

    Revelation gives us a deeper look into Satan’s fall—and it reveals a chilling truth: he took about a third of heaven’s angels with him (Revelation 12:4). These fallen angels, later known as demons, became Satan’s minions, eager to do his bidding.

    Their mission is clear—to torment us, rip our souls away from God, and dismantle His army one by one. The war we are waging is terrifying, and the enemies we are fighting are no joke.

    But remember—we are not alone.

    Satan may have taken one-third of heaven’s angels, but two-thirds remained to fight as our allies. And even more than that, we have Jesus Christ Himself fighting alongside us—the One who triumphs over the Devil and all sin!

Why Does Satan Always Torment Me Like That? 

    By God’s design, Satan is cunning, learning and understanding our weaknesses and deepest fears. God, like a loving Father, sees our weaknesses differently. His power is made perfect in them (2 Corinthians 12:9).

        But Satan sees them as opportunities to harm us, exploiting them in his spiritual attacks. When Satan wages spiritual warfare, he isn’t really interested in us per se; we’re only his means to an end. He knows God’s love for us is so deep that nothing wounds Him more than seeing His children suffer. If Satan can push even a few of us off the righteous path and alienate us from our Creator, he counts it as a victory.

    Spiritual warfare is real.

    You shouldn’t fear the Devil’s attacks—instead, cling to your most powerful weapon: God Himself. Yet remain vigilant, for Satan is always lurking, waiting for a slip in your guard so he can drive a wedge between you and God.

    1 Peter 5:8 says it best:

    "Discipline yourselves; keep alert. Like a roaring lion, your adversary the Devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour."

    Keep your eyes open, your heart vigilant, and armor yourself with faith and the Word of God.

Satan may count mass atrocities as grand victories, but he doesn’t just hunt in chaos. He thrives in the quiet. His arsenal is made up of whispers: lies, lust, fear, anger, bitterness, envy, resentment, and pride, all to lure us away from Christ.

He strikes through crippling anxiety, sudden fits of rage, or a cold, numbing despair. Having worked in the mental health field, I understand the psychological toll of these struggles. But as a survivor of spiritual warfare, I know the Enemy targets those fragile places, searching for any tear in our spiritual defense.

Picture this: a jar full of marbles, smooth and shining. From the outside, it looks full. But pour sand or water into it, and you’ll see that the jar wasn’t as full as it appeared. It held invisible gaps.

Now imagine the marbles as the light within you.

And those tiny spaces?

They’re the vulnerabilities.

The places darkness presses into, unnoticed, until it floods in.

This is why we must fill those spaces before the Devil does. We have two choices: fill them with the Holy Spirit, or leave room for darkness to seep in. When we lower our guard, evil doesn’t charge in with flashing lights. It slithers. Quietly. Patiently. Into the crevices of our soul, waiting for the moment our shield slips.

There is nothing Satan longs for more than to drown the empty spaces within us in consuming darkness.

The enemy is patient, quietly watching for the moment our guard drops.

Never forget: darkness waits. Every minute. Every hour. Every single day. It watches—relentless and unyielding—for the instant our guard is down. And when it finds it, it strikes. Without mercy. At our weakest moments.

But hear me—this isn’t meant to terrify. It’s meant to rouse. This is a battle cry.

We were not created to be defenseless. We were meant to fight back. To rise up. To defend the Kingdom of God, where the Lord Most High stands with open arms, waiting to welcome us home for eternity.

Facing the truth can be agonizing, but it also brings real healing and freedom.

And here’s the silver lining: We do not fight alone.

Followers of Christ already carry the most powerful weapon ever forged—the blood of Jesus and the Armor of God.

But without Christ, we fight alone. And the brutal truth? We won’t win.

I don’t say this out of judgment. I say it out of love.

Because I’ve walked through the abyss.

I’ve felt the breath of darkness on my skin.

I’ve been shattered by the weight of spiritual warfare.

This book isn’t just a warning. It’s a testimony.

 It’s the story of how God pulled me out.