QFD | When Did You Last Treat the Devil Like He Was Real?

When Did You Last Treat the Devil Like He Was Real?

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end, keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints, and also for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak. — Ephesians 6:10-20 (ESV)

We wake up in cozy beds. Coffee brews. The morning light is soft. The last thing on our minds is that we're standing on a battlefield.

Maybe that's the problem.

Paul writes about rulers and authorities and cosmic powers and spiritual forces of evil (Ephesians 6:12), and we nod along like he's describing something that happens somewhere else. We've got bills to pay and kids to feed. Spiritual warfare often sounds like meeting talk, not the thing you wake up into.

But what if the reason we don't see the war is because our faith has gone nearsighted?

I wonder sometimes if the absence of warfare awareness is actually a measure of spiritual blindness. The less we see, the more we relax. Jesus could see it everywhere—the oppressed, the accused, the captive. He didn't armor up to feel safe. He armored up to set people free.

We've turned the whole armor of God into personal spiritual protection. Armor for me—so I don't fall, so I stay standing. And we've forgotten that Jesus didn't model that. He wore the armor into the fight for others. For the woman caught in adultery. For the man called Legion. For the misaligned tax collector. For the ones the accuser had pinned down (Revelation 12:10) and the world had written off.

The battle rages. And we the armored are called not just to survive it, but to fight it—for ourselves, yes, but more than that, for others. Under the cross. With Jesus our King leading an earthly campaign toward the victory He already won in heaven.

We see the armor as self-defense. We've forgotten it's also a rescue mission.

The Enemy You Can't See

Paul doesn't say, "We wrestle against our toxic habits." He says, "We do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness" (Ephesians 6:12).

That's a threat assessment. Have we been ignoring it?

The devil isn't your inner critic. He's not a symbol for anxiety. He's real, personal, strategic. And he's been hunting longer than you've been breathing.

Life is good right? We've psychologized evil out of existence, then wondered why the ground keeps shifting. We post Bible verses about standing firm, then scroll into feeds designed to rewire our desires and keep us too distracted to notice we're losing.

I've sat with men who can quote Ephesians 6 from memory but haven't considered that the enemy might be working through their exhaustion—the kind that makes them too tired to pray, too numb to notice the neglect towards their children. The warfare isn't dramatic. It's erosion. The slow bleed until you wake up one day and realize you've been standing guard over nothing while everything that mattered slipped past you.

Maybe the absence of seeing the battle just means we've stopped looking. Satan uses our technology to shift our focus does he not?

The Armor Isn't About You Alone

"Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil" (Ephesians 6:11).

We read that as personal. You—singular. Protect yourself. And yes, you do need to stand. But if you stop there, you've missed the point.

Look at Jesus. He's the one Isaiah 59:17 is talking about: "He put on righteousness as a breastplate, and a helmet of salvation on his head." The armor originates with Him. And what did He do with it? He wore it into the darkness to pull people out. He stood between the accused and the accuser (1 John 2:1). He went to a cross because the war wasn't about self-preservation—it was about rescue.

You're not armored just so you can make it through. You're armored so you can fight for the person next to you who's being shredded by lies. The one who believes they're too broken. The one the enemy has convinced that shame is their permanent address.

The whole armor of God isn't survival gear. It's also rescue equipment.

The Gear

The belt of truth holds everything together. Without it, you'll believe the lie—about God, about yourself, about what obedience costs. The breastplate of righteousness guards your heart from condemnation on one side, compromise on the other. The shoes—gospel readiness—keep you planted when fear comes or approval is withdrawn. You're not swayed because your identity isn't up for negotiation.

But when you're standing in truth and righteousness with gospel readiness, you can speak

it to someone else being crushed under a lie. You can step between the accuser and the one being accused and say, "No. That's not who they are. Not in Christ." You can remind them of what God has already spoken when their memory is failing.

The shield of faith extinguishes the flaming darts—accusations, doubts, despair (Ephesians 6:16). Faith isn't passive hope. It's trust raised like a barrier. "God said it. I believe it. The dart dies here."

The sword is the only offensive weapon: "the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God" (Ephesians 6:17). Jesus used it in the wilderness: "It is written..." (Matthew 4:4, 7, 10). You can't fight what you haven't memorized.

But isn't that what the body does? We raise our shields together. When your faith is strong, you stand close to the one whose faith is shaking. You pray the armor over them. And when they're tangled in lies, you pull the sword and speak the Word that cuts them free.

The helmet of salvation protects your mind—your assurance. You've settled it: "I am His. He will finish what He started" (Philippians 1:6). Now use that certainty to fight for the one whose assurance is shaking.

And prayer? Paul calls it the atmosphere: "praying at all times in the Spirit...making supplication for all the saints" (Ephesians 6:18). Notice: for all the saints. You pray for the person beside you in the trench. You call down heaven's reinforcements for someone who can't lift their head to ask. Prayer is how you fight when you can't see the enemy. It's how you armor someone you've never met.

The war is already won. Christ disarmed the rulers and authorities at the cross (Colossians 2:15). You're not fighting to win. You're fighting from victory.

But the enemy is still dangerous. Still hunting. Still lying. And people are still falling.

Your job isn't to defeat him—Christ did that. Your job is to stand in what Christ accomplished and pull others into that same victory. To speak truth when they're drowning in lies. To raise your shield when their faith is shaking. To armor up not just for yourself, but for them.

You're not armored just to survive. You're armored to rescue.

When you fall—and you will—grace reapplies the armor. You confess, you rise, you strap it back on. The Commander doesn't discharge wounded soldiers. He heals them and sends them back to the line.

So when did you last treat the devil like he was real? Not just as a threat to you, but as a threat to the person next to you. The one being lied to. The one the enemy has convinced they're beyond saving.

Because if the enemy is real—if the war is raging—then the armor isn't optional.

And it's not just for you.

It's for the fight.