Revisiting 2016: A Testimony of Protection and Clarity
As I look back on something I wrote in 2016, I’m seeing it with clearer eyes today. Not because the events have changed, but because I have. The Lord has been patient with me, steady with me, and protective in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time. Reading my own words from ten years ago feels like opening a window into a younger version of myself — one who was trying to make sense of spiritual conflict, fear, and the weight of responsibility that comes with writing publicly about faith.
In that old post, I wrote about the demonic activity I experienced in 1999 and how boldly — maybe naively — I declared that I intended to be “a thorn in Satan’s side.” I didn’t realize then that those words weren’t really mine. They were the Lord’s. The blog wasn’t mine either. It was His.
I also wrote about the fear that followed — the sense that every time I tried to post something meaningful, something disruptive happened. The most frightening moments were when we temporarily lost contact with our daughter while she was out alone. At the time, I saw those moments as direct attempts to stop me from writing.
But today, I see something different. I see the Lord’s protection woven through every one of those moments. I see His covering over my family, our home, our property, and even our fruit trees and garden. I see His kindness in the hurricanes we avoided, the floods that passed us by, and the countless small mercies that never made it into a blog post.
And I see something else — something I didn’t notice until now: Satan is not as active in trying to stop me from writing as he once was. Why? I don’t claim to know fully. But I do know this: I’m not the same man I was in 2016. My faith is steadier. My fear is quieter. My understanding is clearer. And my writing is no longer driven by the urgency of conflict — but by the peace of obedience.
The Lord has matured me. He has strengthened me. And He has shown me that spiritual warfare doesn’t always look like dramatic interference. Sometimes it simply fades as we grow, as we learn to walk in His authority rather than our own fear.
Looking back, I don’t see a story of attacks. I see a story of protection. A story of growth. A story of the Lord’s loving-kindness — not just in the big moments, but in the quiet ones.
For context, here is the original post from 2016 that this reflection is based on:
Reluctant
