The first time Olivia ever heard a voice that didn’t sound like her own, it came in like a whisper camouflaged inside a thought: You’re not enough. She had just failed a piano audition she’d practiced months for, and as her name was read without applause, something sharp settled inside her heart. She didn’t notice it at first. Not until that same voice began showing up in different moments—after a conversation with a friend, after checking her reflection, after praying and feeling nothing. They don’t really care. You’re probably invisible. At thirteen, Olivia didn’t call it spiritual warfare. She just thought it was the truth.
Jesus didn’t pull punches when identifying the source of those lies. He told a group of religious leaders in John 8:44, “You belong to your father, the devil… He was a murderer from the beginning… When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies.” That’s strong language. Jesus wasn’t using metaphor. He was describing a real spiritual being with a real agenda—the devil, Satan.
Scripture doesn’t offer us a cartoon villain with horns and a pitchfork; Satan is portrayed as more dangerous than that. We meet him first as a slippery serpent in the Garden, then as a tempter in the wilderness, and eventually as a dragon waging war against God’s people (Revelation 12:9). Peter doesn’t warn us to simply avoid sin—he urges vigilance: “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour” (1 Peter 5:8).
Devour. Not distract. Not merely discourage. Devour.
That’s what Olivia was experiencing. Not just sad thoughts, but an unseen effort to reshape how she saw herself—and more importantly, how she saw God. That’s Satan’s oldest tactic. Twist the truth. Speak half-light. Whisper suggestive questions like, “Did God really say…?” His goal isn’t just to make us sin. It’s to make us suspicious of our Creator. To make us think God isn't for us. That’s the real work of the enemy: deception that draws us away from the Source of truth, light, and love.
And yet, we often don’t ask where these thoughts come from. We accept them, host them, nurse them with distraction or shame, instead of rejecting them like poison.
Maybe you’ve felt that too—those unspoken narratives that settle over you like layers: You’re not wanted. God is far. You’ve messed up too much. And sometimes they land right when you’re trying to get closer to Jesus, don’t they?
Which shouldn't surprise us. Revelation 12:9 calls Satan “the deceiver of the whole world.” That’s what he does. He’s not neutral. He’s not uninvolved. He deceives.
But there’s hope tucked into the very words of Scripture. Though Satan lies, Jesus is Truth. Though the devil prowls, God holds. Though the enemy accuses, Jesus defends. The Bible doesn’t invite us to live in fear of the devil—but to wake up to the fact we have an enemy. And even more, to remember we have a victorious Savior.
A few months after her failed audition, Olivia found another voice—quieter, steadier—while listening to a worship song with her mom in the car. The chorus rose: You say I am loved when I can't feel a thing… and something broke open. Not dramatically. Not with fireworks. But with warmth. A different whisper. Only this one aligned with light. With Scripture. With truth.
Later, with a counselor, Olivia would learn to name the lies and rebuke them—not with empty self-talk, but with God’s promises. She began praying, not because she felt eloquent, but because she realized she didn’t have to fight alone.
The longer we walk with Jesus, the more we learn to recognize the enemy’s voice—not by studying lies, but by anchoring ourselves in truth. The better we know God’s character, the sharper we notice when something violates it. One of the most powerful ways to resist the devil is to hear God more clearly—and believe Him.
Satan's favorite language is shame. God's native tongue is grace.
So today, if you've wrestled with thoughts that question your worth, weigh you down, or make God feel distant—pause. Ask yourself: Who said that? If it doesn’t sound like the voice of the Shepherd, it doesn’t belong to you.
And when the darkness tries to whisper again, remember the name above every name—the One who said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” Truth isn’t a philosophy. Truth has a heartbeat. He wore scars. He calls you by name.
The first time Olivia ever heard a voice that didn’t sound like her own, it came in like a whisper camouflaged inside a thought: You’re not enough. She had just failed a piano audition she’d practiced months for, and as her name was read without applause, something sharp settled inside her heart. She didn’t notice it at first. Not until that same voice began showing up in different moments—after a conversation with a friend, after checking her reflection, after praying and feeling nothing. They don’t really care. You’re probably invisible. At thirteen, Olivia didn’t call it spiritual warfare. She just thought it was the truth.
Jesus didn’t pull punches when identifying the source of those lies. He told a group of religious leaders in John 8:44, “You belong to your father, the devil… He was a murderer from the beginning… When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies.” That’s strong language. Jesus wasn’t using metaphor. He was describing a real spiritual being with a real agenda—the devil, Satan.
Scripture doesn’t offer us a cartoon villain with horns and a pitchfork; Satan is portrayed as more dangerous than that. We meet him first as a slippery serpent in the Garden, then as a tempter in the wilderness, and eventually as a dragon waging war against God’s people (Revelation 12:9). Peter doesn’t warn us to simply avoid sin—he urges vigilance: “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour” (1 Peter 5:8).
Devour. Not distract. Not merely discourage. Devour.
That’s what Olivia was experiencing. Not just sad thoughts, but an unseen effort to reshape how she saw herself—and more importantly, how she saw God. That’s Satan’s oldest tactic. Twist the truth. Speak half-light. Whisper suggestive questions like, “Did God really say…?” His goal isn’t just to make us sin. It’s to make us suspicious of our Creator. To make us think God isn't for us. That’s the real work of the enemy: deception that draws us away from the Source of truth, light, and love.
And yet, we often don’t ask where these thoughts come from. We accept them, host them, nurse them with distraction or shame, instead of rejecting them like poison.
Maybe you’ve felt that too—those unspoken narratives that settle over you like layers: You’re not wanted. God is far. You’ve messed up too much. And sometimes they land right when you’re trying to get closer to Jesus, don’t they?
Which shouldn't surprise us. Revelation 12:9 calls Satan “the deceiver of the whole world.” That’s what he does. He’s not neutral. He’s not uninvolved. He deceives.
But there’s hope tucked into the very words of Scripture. Though Satan lies, Jesus is Truth. Though the devil prowls, God holds. Though the enemy accuses, Jesus defends. The Bible doesn’t invite us to live in fear of the devil—but to wake up to the fact we have an enemy. And even more, to remember we have a victorious Savior.
A few months after her failed audition, Olivia found another voice—quieter, steadier—while listening to a worship song with her mom in the car. The chorus rose: You say I am loved when I can't feel a thing… and something broke open. Not dramatically. Not with fireworks. But with warmth. A different whisper. Only this one aligned with light. With Scripture. With truth.
Later, with a counselor, Olivia would learn to name the lies and rebuke them—not with empty self-talk, but with God’s promises. She began praying, not because she felt eloquent, but because she realized she didn’t have to fight alone.
The longer we walk with Jesus, the more we learn to recognize the enemy’s voice—not by studying lies, but by anchoring ourselves in truth. The better we know God’s character, the sharper we notice when something violates it. One of the most powerful ways to resist the devil is to hear God more clearly—and believe Him.
Satan's favorite language is shame. God's native tongue is grace.
So today, if you've wrestled with thoughts that question your worth, weigh you down, or make God feel distant—pause. Ask yourself: Who said that? If it doesn’t sound like the voice of the Shepherd, it doesn’t belong to you.
And when the darkness tries to whisper again, remember the name above every name—the One who said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” Truth isn’t a philosophy. Truth has a heartbeat. He wore scars. He calls you by name.
