Things with Wings and Things That Whisper

"We overcome not by might, not by effort, but by the blood of Jesus—by His finished work—and by bearing witness to that truth in our lives. Every time you say “no” to temptation, every time you forgive instead of retaliate, every time you proclaim grace when shame would’ve fit just fine—you are resisting the devil. You are taking ground."

I’ve never seen an angel.

  At least, not in the way we picture them—no glowing robes, no flutter of wings, no blazing swords drawn in battle. But I’ve been spared. I’ve been led. I’ve heard things in the silence of prayer that were not my thoughts. I’ve been protected when I didn’t deserve it, when I didn’t even ask.

  Maybe you have, too.

  Scripture is full of angels—not the sugary kind, but fierce, radiant beings who come from the presence of God and obey Him without hesitation. They show up in wildernesses and dreams, beside tombs and in the middle of storms. They show up in fire. They show up in song. They’re not sentimental. They’re soldiers.

  And they’re not alone.

  There’s another presence in the world—quieter, crueler. Older than we are and bitter for it. The Bible calls them demons. Fallen angels. Accusers. Unclean spirits. The powers of this dark world. They, too, have a commander. His name was once Lucifer. Now we know him as the devil, the father of lies.

  If all of this sounds medieval or out of place in a modern mind, it’s worth remembering that Jesus Himself treated angels and demons not as metaphor, but as reality. He spoke to them. Cast them out. He was strengthened by them. And warned us, more than once, to stay awake—because what we cannot see can still undo us.

  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Angels Among Us

  We don’t talk about angels much anymore. Not in serious theological terms. We’ve grown shy about mystery. Somewhere along the way, angels became decorations for children’s books or symbols for people we’ve lost.

  But angels are not the souls of the dead. They are their own kind of creature—created before us, not made in our image, and certainly not under our authority.

  In Hebrews, we read: “Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?” (Hebrews 1:14)

  They serve. They protect. They guide. They act on behalf of God, never on their own whims. You’ll notice in Scripture, angels rarely linger after their task is done. There’s a suddenness to their presence. They’re here, they speak, they obey—and then they’re gone.

  An angel shut the mouths of lions in Daniel’s den. An angel stood guard at Eden after Adam and Eve were cast out. An angel led Peter out of prison. And an angel strengthened Jesus in Gethsemane before the cross.

  Some of their work is public, dramatic. But much of it is quiet. Hidden. Seen only in hindsight, if at all.

  It makes me wonder how many near-wrecks I’ve avoided because something unseen stood between me and a catastrophe. I wonder how many times that sudden turn, that delay, that strange pull on my spirit was not my intuition, but a servant of God whispering, “Not this way.”

  Angels are not omnipresent. They’re not infinite. They can’t be everywhere at once. But they are assigned, Scripture seems to say. Assigned to messages. To missions. Possibly to people. Jesus speaks of “their angels” when referring to children, and David writes, “The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him, and delivers them.” (Psalm 34:7)

  Encamps. That means it stays. Guards. Keeps watch.

  I don’t know about you, but that gives me pause.

  Because if angels are standing guard, then we are standing in a war.

The Other Side of the Veil

  Not everything invisible is good.

  For the angels who stayed loyal to God, many others didn’t. Revelation 12 tells us that a third of heaven’s host followed Satan in his rebellion. We don’t know all the details—how it started, how long it took—but we know how it ends. Satan is thrown down. His angels with him. The war is not over, but the outcome is not in question.

  Still, we live in the tension. We are in the “now and not yet.” The enemy has lost his place in heaven, but he still prowls here on earth.

  And he is not idle.

  The devil’s not in a red suit holding a pitchfork. He’s in boardrooms. He’s in gossip circles. He’s in addictions and ideologies and every whispered lie that tells you you’re too broken, too far gone, too stained to be called holy.

  Paul said it best in Ephesians 6: “Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world, and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”

  That doesn’t mean we look for a demon under every couch cushion. It means we live alert. It means we recognize the unseen influence behind much of the chaos around us—and sometimes, inside us.

  The devil loves accusations. He plants a thought, then damns you for thinking it. He lures you in, then calls you a hypocrite for falling. And if he can’t destroy you, he’ll settle for making you bitter. Distracted. Disillusioned. Quiet.

  I’ve heard it said: “The devil doesn’t need to turn you into a heretic. He just needs to make you tired.”

  That’s why Jesus said, “Watch and pray.” He wasn’t talking about politics or bank accounts or moral outrage. He meant the slow drift of the soul when we forget we’re in a battle. When we think the enemy is our spouse, or our neighbor, or the guy who cut us off on the freeway.

  No, the enemy is older. Smarter. And far more invested in your despair.

  But here’s the good news: he’s also outmatched.

Victory in the Shadows

  In Revelation 12, the same passage that describes the war in heaven, we read how the faithful overcome:

  “They triumphed over him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death.” (Revelation 12:11)

  The devil accuses. But Christ speaks a better word. The devil condemns. But Christ covers.  The devil demands fear. But perfect love casts it out.

  We overcome not by might, not by effort, but by the blood of Jesus—by His finished work—and by bearing witness to that truth in our lives. Every time you say “no” to temptation, every time you forgive instead of retaliate, every time you proclaim grace when shame would’ve fit just fine—you are resisting the devil. You are taking ground.

  Testimony matters. Not just the big, polished kind. The small ones, too. “God got me through this week.” “He helped me forgive.” “I’m still here.” That’s testimony. That’s gospel.

  And let’s not forget the third part of that verse: they did not love their lives even unto death. That’s hard. But it’s freedom. When you know your life belongs to Jesus, when you believe that eternity is real, that heaven is home, that death is not the end, you become untouchable in all the ways that count.

  The devil wants fear. Christ gives peace. The devil deals in lies. Christ is the Truth. The devil schemes in darkness. Christ steps in with light, and everything changes.

The Thin Veil

  I’ve had moments—maybe you have too—where it felt like the veil got thin. A hospital room hushed by something unseen. A strange warmth in the midst of despair. An awareness in prayer that you weren’t praying alone. I don’t build my theology on feelings. But I also don’t ignore them when they line up with Scripture.

  I think there’s more going on around us than we can possibly comprehend.

  Not everything is a spiritual attack. But not everything is just chance, either.

  Sometimes that delay, that prompting, that inexplicable peace when you should be panicking—it’s not coincidence. It’s help. It’s God moving behind the curtain, often through angels, often through fellow believers, often through the whisper of the Spirit.

  And one day, when this life fades and we step fully into the next, I wonder how many moments we’ll look back on and say, “Ah. That was You.”

Closing the Distance

You and I aren’t meant to live in fear of demons or obsession with angels. We’re meant to live in awe of Jesus. He is Lord over both. He commands angels, and they obey. He triumphed over the devil, and he flees.

  What we are called to do is be watchful. To walk humbly. To guard the doors of our hearts. To forgive quickly. To confess often. To praise loudly and live quietly. To live in such a way that we don’t grieve the angels or give ground to the enemy.

  And above all, to remember—we are not alone.

  Not now. Not ever.

  Even if the night is long and the enemy is loud, we are surrounded by more than we can see. The hills are full of fire. The Word still speaks. And the One who commands angels has promised never to leave us.

Scripture References

• Hebrews 1:14

• Psalm 34:7

• Ephesians 6:12

• Revelation 12:7–11

• Revelation 12:11

• Matthew 26:53

• James 4:7

• 1 John 4:4

Painting

The Archangel Michael Overthrowing Lucifer, by Francesco Maffei, c. 1656,

via Nacional d’Art de Catalunya.