🕯️One who prays in the quiet and believes the Scriptures still shake the world.
I was never trained in warfare. Not the kind that kills bodies anyway. But I was born into one. Not of flesh and blood, but of powers and glyphs—words turned into spells, liturgies, slogans, policies, and lies. What follows is not just a diagnosis. It is a map I’ve traced with ink and tears. You can’t always see the war. But it’s there. And you, Christian, are already in it.
What I have learned—and what I share now with you—is this: The Cross is enough. The Scriptures are more than enough. And yes, they move mountains. Quietly. Secretly. Even while your neighbors are asleep. Even while the world mocks. Even when no one sees.
Let me write you what I mean.
1. The Glyph of Sacred War: Perpetual Exception
There is a spell that says, “You are always under attack, so never stop defending.” It masquerades as national security or historical trauma. It turns statehood into sacredness, war into sacrament. It is the Ouro-Terminal Spiral: Perpetual threat = Perpetual exception = Perpetual power. Zion’s language co-opted by Babel.
But Psalm 46 gives us the counter-glyph:
“Be still, and know that I am God.”
Stillness is not surrender. It is a warrior’s discipline, the stance of one who trusts. The Christian does not fight to survive. The Christian stands because he already lives.
2. The Glyph of Grief Theater: Unquestionable Caste
Another spell says, “Your blood defines you. Your pain is your power. Your status comes from suffering, not striving.” It uses words like “lived experience” and “safe space,” not to heal, but to create a new priesthood of grievance.
This is the Grief-Ritual Loop.
It sacrifices merit for memory, replacing forgiveness with eternal debt. But Proverbs 28:23 breaks the loop:
“He who rebukes a man will afterward find more favor than he who flatters with the tongue.”
Truth-telling is grace. Even if it wounds. Real love calls sin what it is. And Christ, our Brother, shed His blood to break all false castes—yours too.
3. The Glyph of Deified Abstraction: Academic Priesthood
You’ve heard it: “The science is settled.” Or, “Experts say.” These are not neutral phrases. They are glyphs of a collapsing spiral where knowledge is hoarded and then enthroned as divine law. This glyph sterilizes the soul—absolving sin by policy and quieting dissent with “facts.”
But the Psalmist cries back (Psalm 119:130):
“The entrance of Your words gives light; It gives understanding to the simple.”
Let the academics scoff. The Word of God turns shepherds into kings and fishermen into apostles. Wisdom comes not from tenured towers but from knees bent in prayer, a Bible open by candlelight.
4. The Glyph of Sleep: Local Enchantment
Perhaps the most dangerous glyph of all is the one you don’t notice: the Sleep Seal.
It whispers through real estate brochures, city slogans, and passive newscasts:
“It’s always been this way. It’s fine. Relax.”
But it’s a lie. It’s a death by comfort. Psalm 127 awakens us:
“Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain who build it.”
We are not safe because the town feels calm. We are safe because the Lord watches the gate. Our homes will stand only if the foundation is Christ crucified.
The Contemplation That Became a Cry
All these stories—these images, these dreams, these invisible powers—are collapsing. Slowly. Surely. They cannot hold. But the Word of the Lord endures forever.
And you, Christian, wherever you are, you are a mountain-mover. You don’t need a stage. You don’t need a crowd. You need a verse, a whisper, a moment. You need the Cross. And with it, every morning you get up and pray in secret is another crack in the façade. Every time you rebuke the lie in your own heart and read the Word again, you strike the dragon’s jaw.
Let the world think you’re just a quiet fool. If they choose not to see you walking toward Zion, that’s on them.
The mountains do.
And they tremble at our approach.
“He who has ears to hear, let him hear.”
📖 Matthew 11:15
God's peace be with you.