The Burden of Unaddressed Issues in Our Lives

We live in a world that often seems ruthless, where the complexities of human experience are frequently brushed aside. Many individuals recognise the underlying problems that permeate both personal and societal realms, yet they choose to carry on as if everything is in order. This dissonance creates a façade that can be difficult to penetrate, leaving unresolved issues to fester beneath the surface.

The tendency to ignore significant matters stems from various factors, including fear of confrontation, societal pressures, and a desire for comfort. When individuals prioritise maintaining appearances over addressing uncomfortable truths, they inadvertently contribute to a cycle of emotional burden. This pattern not only affects personal well-being but also strains relationships, as the weight of unspoken grievances lingers in the air, unacknowledged and unresolved.

Forgiveness and the ability to move on become challenging when we are burdened by subjects left untouched. The human experience is inherently complex; we carry our past with us, and unaddressed issues can shape our daily lives in profound ways. The reluctance to confront these matters often leads to a sense of isolation and disconnection, as individuals struggle with feelings of frustration and helplessness.

To break this cycle, it is essential to foster environments where open communication is encouraged. Creating safe spaces for dialogue allows individuals to express their feelings and concerns without fear of judgement. It requires vulnerability and courage to confront difficult topics, but the potential for healing and growth is invaluable. By addressing the issues that weigh heavily on our hearts and minds, we can begin to release the burdens we carry, ultimately leading to stronger connections and a more harmonious existence.

In conclusion, while we may live in a world that often turns a blind eye to pressing issues, we have the power to change this narrative. By embracing open discussions and confronting the challenges we face, we can pave the way for understanding, forgiveness, and a brighter future.

Bitten by the Serpent I Fed: Betrayal of the Hand That Helped Chapter 4: Shadows of Misfortune

In the months that followed, it was as if a dark cloud had settled over Ethan, hovering above him, casting shadows on everything he tried to accomplish. His business, once a growing source of pride, began to falter. Deals slipped through his fingers, contracts vanished, and clients he once counted on disappeared without explanation. Each day felt like a battle he couldn’t win, and no matter how hard he worked, his efforts seemed cursed to fail.

The strain took its toll. At home, Ethan’s spirit was dimmed, his once lively eyes now dull and defeated. He carried an air of frustration and bitterness, a weight that seemed to follow him from room to room, settling over our home like a thick, oppressive fog. He tried looking for jobs, reaching out to old contacts, scouring listings, but everywhere he turned, doors closed in his face. The world he had once known, the future he had envisioned, seemed to crumble before him.

I watched, heartbroken, as he slipped further into despair. It was as if he were caught in quicksand, sinking deeper with every struggle. Ethan became a shadow of the man I had married—a man whose laughter had once filled our home, whose optimism had been a beacon in my life. Now, he was silent, withdrawn, his spirit fractured.

And then, there was the baby. Emma had always been sensitive to the energies around her. From the moment she was born, there was a light in her, a purity that seemed to see past facades and into the heart of those around her. But lately, when Ethan reached out to hold her, she would turn away, her tiny face contorting as if she sensed something dark around him. At first, he brushed it off, but the rejections began to pile up, each one cutting him deeper. The pain in his eyes was unmistakable, but no matter how he tried, Emma would not let him close.

Ethan didn’t understand what was happening, but I did. The air around him had changed. There was something clinging to him, something heavy and dark. I felt it every time I was near him, and I knew that this wasn’t a normal run of bad luck. This was something else, something evil. And I had no doubt who was behind it.

Evelyn.

I didn’t know how she did it, but I could feel her influence, like a whisper in the wind, a chill that settled over everything Ethan touched. She had found a way to curse him, to bind his life in chains, ensuring that he would fail, that he would be a burden rather than a blessing. She had set out to break him, and, in doing so, to break us.

One day, as he drove home from another fruitless job interview, it happened. A car came out of nowhere, hurtling towards him at breakneck speed. He slammed on the brakes, heart racing, but there was no way he could avoid it. In those final moments, he saw his life flash before his eyes, a glimpse of everything he stood to lose, everyone he would leave behind. But then, something inexplicable happened. The car swerved, as if guided by an invisible hand, missing him by mere inches.

Ethan pulled over to the side of the road, hands trembling, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He knew, in that moment, that he had been spared. By all accounts, he should have been crushed in that collision, his life taken in an instant. But there was something greater at work—a force of protection that had shielded him from the darkness that sought to claim him.

That night, he came home, shaken and silent. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and vulnerability that I had never seen before. "I should have died today," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I don’t know how I’m still here."

I took his hand, holding it tightly, feeling the weight of his words settle between us. I knew that the battle we were facing was not just a test of our resilience but a fight for our very souls. We couldn’t keep pretending that this was something we could handle on our own. The forces against us were too strong, too insidious.

"Ethan," I said softly, "we need to pray."

He looked at me, his expression blank. "What do you mean?"

"I mean every night. Together. We need to pray, to ask for God’s protection, for strength. This… whatever is happening to us… it’s not just bad luck. There’s something evil here, something that wants to destroy us."

He was silent, his gaze drifting to Emma, asleep in her crib, her small face serene and untouched by the turmoil that had overtaken our lives. After a long moment, he nodded. "Okay," he whispered. "Let’s pray."

And so, every night, as the world around us fell into silence, we knelt together in our bedroom, hands clasped, voices quiet but resolute. We prayed for protection, for guidance, for strength to face the darkness that surrounded us. We prayed for our family, for our marriage, for the light to overcome the shadows that threatened to consume us.

It wasn’t easy. There were nights when Ethan’s faith wavered, when he questioned whether any of this would make a difference. But each time, I reminded him of the accident, of the miracle that had spared his life. "You’re still here for a reason," I told him, my voice steady. "God isn’t finished with you yet."

Slowly, as the days turned into weeks, I began to see a change in him. The darkness that had clung to him started to fade, the despair that had weighed him down lifting bit by bit. He began to smile again, to laugh, to find joy in the small moments. And Emma… she no longer turned away when he held her. She would reach out, her tiny fingers curling around his, her eyes filled with the same light that had once been his.

I knew that we weren’t free of Evelyn’s influence. I knew that she would continue to try, that she would seek new ways to break us, to poison the bond we shared. But for the first time, I felt a glimmer of hope. We were not alone in this fight. We had each other, and we had faith. And with that, we had everything we needed to face whatever came next.

Bitten by the Serpent I Fed: Betrayal of the Hand That Helped - Chapter 3: Fire and Shadows

Evelyn had always been a shadow over my life. But in recent years, that shadow had grown darker, more menacing. What started as subtle manipulations, whispered doubts, and quiet interference had turned into something far more sinister. There were things I could not explain, strange occurrences that followed her visits, feelings of dread that crept over me every time she was near. And then, there were the dreams.

The first time I dreamt of her, I was pregnant with our son, Caleb. I saw her standing over me in the dark, her face shrouded in shadow, her eyes glowing with malice. In the dream, she was holding a knife, slowly lowering it towards my unborn child, her expression twisted into something I had never seen before—hatred. I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart pounding in my chest. I brushed it off as a nightmare, a figment of my fears and worries about becoming a mother. But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than that.

Ethan tried to comfort me, telling me it was just my hormones, that I was overthinking things. But I knew better. Something about Evelyn’s presence unsettled me, and I had seen too many signs to ignore it any longer. After that dream, I kept my distance. I kept her at arm’s length during my pregnancy, making excuses, avoiding visits. I didn’t want her near my child, even before he was born.

Then came the second pregnancy. I was seven months along when Evelyn visited our home. I had tried to avoid her, but Ethan insisted. "She’s your mother-in-law," he said. "She has a right to be involved in our lives." He didn’t understand. He didn’t see what I saw. I relented, for his sake, but the moment she stepped into our home, something shifted. It was as if the air itself grew heavier, thicker.

That evening, I started cramping. Pain shot through my abdomen, sharp and relentless. Blood. I was bleeding. Panic set in, and Ethan rushed me to the hospital. The doctors said I was lucky. They couldn’t explain why the cramping and bleeding had started, but they managed to stop it before it could harm the baby. Still, I knew. The moment Evelyn left our home, the pain subsided. It was no coincidence.

I tried to tell Ethan, but he wouldn’t hear it. His mother had a hold on him, a deep bond that I couldn’t break. He was torn between the evidence and his love for her, and I couldn’t blame him. But I knew what I felt, what I had seen, and I was done allowing her near our children.

When our daughter, Emma, was born, I made a decision. I went home to my mother for help with the newborn, surrounded by the love and protection that had always been my family’s strength. My mother and sisters prayed over Emma, blessing her, placing a hedge of spiritual protection around her. I knew that Evelyn would come, that she would insist on seeing her granddaughter. But this time, I was prepared. I had prayed, I had asked God for protection over my child, and I would no longer allow her darkness into our home.

Ethan, distraught and confused, pleaded with me to let his mother visit. "She just wants to help," he said, his voice strained. "She’s your mother-in-law. You can’t keep her away from our children forever."

But I had made up my mind. "She can visit," I said, "but she will never hold Emma. Not this time." I didn’t explain further. There were things he would never understand, not as long as he was under her spell. I loved him, but I couldn’t trust him to protect us from her.

One morning, I heard a knock on the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and when I opened the door, my heart sank. There stood Evelyn, dressed impeccably as always, holding a large gift bag in her hands. She smiled that thin, knowing smile of hers—the one that never quite reached her eyes—and swept past me into the house before I could say a word.

Ethan appeared in the hallway, looking surprised. “Mom, what are you doing here?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

She waved her hand dismissively, as if her sudden, unannounced arrival was of no consequence. "Oh, I told you I’d visit this week, didn’t I? And since I haven’t heard anything from either of you, I figured it was time to meet my granddaughter."

I shot a look at Ethan. He looked confused, but there was something off in his expression. I had the sinking feeling that he knew more than he was letting on.

Later that evening, I confronted him. "Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?" I demanded. "We agreed she wouldn’t visit without discussing it first."

Ethan hesitated, his eyes shifting away from mine. "I didn’t know she was coming today," he said, but his voice lacked conviction. He was lying. I knew him too well to miss the signs.

"Don’t lie to me," I said quietly, my heart pounding. "You told her she could come, didn’t you? You gave her permission to just show up."

His silence was the only answer I needed. I felt a cold wave of betrayal wash over me. He had conspired with his mother, allowing her to come into our home without my knowledge, without my consent. I turned away from him, anger and hurt boiling up inside me.

Evelyn’s visit was not an act of love—it was an intrusion, another move in the game she was playing. She had won Ethan over, once again, and now she was here, uninvited, to stake her claim over our lives.

But even she couldn’t have anticipated what happened next.

When she reached out to hold Emma, she hesitated. Her hands, always so steady, trembled as she cradled the baby. I watched as a strange look crossed her face—confusion, followed by something darker. She quickly handed Emma back to me, as if she couldn’t bear to hold her any longer. I noticed her rubbing her hands together, almost as if they were burning.

She didn’t say anything, but I could see the discomfort in her eyes. Every time she tried to hold Emma after that, it was the same. Her hands would flinch away, and she’d pass the baby back as quickly as she could. I knew what was happening. The hedge of fire around Emma was real. Evelyn couldn’t touch her—couldn’t harm her. God’s protection was stronger than anything she could conjure.

She stayed for two days, claiming she had planned to visit all week, but by the end of the second day, she abruptly left. She made excuses, saying she had things to do, but I knew the truth. She couldn’t handle the presence of my daughter, the one thing she couldn’t manipulate or control.

Ethan was distraught, torn between his love for his mother and the growing distance between us. He didn’t understand what had happened, didn’t believe me when I told him that Emma was protected by something greater than us. But deep down, I knew that even if he couldn’t see it, Evelyn could. And that knowledge would keep her at bay—for now.

But as I watched her retreat from our home, I knew this wasn’t the end. The serpent’s bite had failed this time, but she would return. She always did.

Bitten by the Serpent I Fed: Betrayal of the hand that helped - Chapter 2: The Serpent's Whisper

In the beginning, our marriage was everything I had ever dreamed of—pure, full of love, and grounded in the kind of trust that only a deep connection could build. For the first three years, Ethan and I were inseparable, bonded by love and the shared belief that no one, not even our families, could come between us. We shielded each other, not because we had to, but because we wanted to. Our marriage wasn’t just a partnership—it was a fortress, and we were each other’s fiercest defenders.

My family embraced Ethan as one of their own from the moment they met him. They loved him, trusted him, and welcomed him with open arms. My parents, devout Christians, taught us the power of prayer, the value of humility, and the importance of living with integrity. They prayed over our union, guided us with wisdom, and supported our dreams in ways that made us feel invincible. Every Sunday, we gathered at my parents’ house for dinner, followed by evening prayers where we all held hands, heads bowed, thanking God for the blessings we had.

Ethan’s devotion to the Lord grew under their guidance, and I was proud to see the man he was becoming. He prayed with me every night, thanking God for our marriage, for the life we were building, and for the strength to face any challenges that came our way. He was respectful towards my parents, treating them with the love and gratitude they deserved. In turn, they supported our dreams, encouraging Ethan to pursue his ambitions, and helping us build a foundation for our future.

For a while, it felt like nothing could touch us. We were thriving. Ethan had started his own business, something he had dreamed of for years, and my parents stood by us through every step. They offered advice, lent us money when we needed it, and never once asked for anything in return. Their love was unconditional, and in those early days, Ethan appreciated that. He often told me how lucky he felt to have married into such a supportive family, how grateful he was for their kindness.

But things changed. Slowly, and almost imperceptibly, something began to shift between us. It started with small things—little disagreements that felt more heated than they should have been, misunderstandings that lingered longer than they should have. At first, I brushed it off as normal marriage woes. Every couple has rough patches, I told myself. But deep down, I knew something was wrong. Ethan had begun to pull away.

The first time I noticed the real strain was after a visit from his mother, Evelyn. She had always been distant with me, never outright cruel, but cold in a way that made me feel unwelcome. I tried to be respectful, tried to bridge the gap, but Evelyn never seemed interested in getting close to me. She was polite, sure, but there was a thin layer of frost between us that never thawed.

After that particular visit, Ethan seemed different. It wasn’t something I could pinpoint immediately, but it was there in the way he spoke to me—in the doubt that crept into his voice when I told him something. It was subtle, but undeniable. He began questioning things that had never been questioned before, doubting my words as if they were suddenly unreliable.

At first, I thought it was just stress. The business was growing, and we were both under a lot of pressure. But then, I started to notice a pattern. Every time Ethan spent time with his mother, he came back colder, more distant. I could feel him slipping away from me, and I didn’t know why. When I confronted him about it, he brushed it off, telling me I was imagining things. But I wasn’t. There was something insidious happening, something I couldn’t quite grasp.

It wasn’t until I overheard a conversation between Ethan and his mother that I began to understand. I had come home early from a meeting and found them sitting in the living room, talking in hushed voices. I stayed out of sight, not wanting to interrupt, but as I listened, my heart sank.

“She doesn’t understand you, Ethan,” his mother was saying. “You deserve better than this. Better than her family meddling in your life, telling you how to run your marriage. They’re poisoning you, filling your head with nonsense.”

“But they’ve been nothing but kind to us,” Ethan protested, though his voice wavered with uncertainty. “They’ve helped us—”

“They’ve helped you?” Evelyn’s voice sharpened. “Or have they trapped you? They’re controlling you, using their so-called kindness to keep you under their thumb. I’ve seen it happen before. They’re not as innocent as they pretend to be.”

I felt my heart race as her words dug into Ethan’s mind like the fangs of a serpent. I wanted to burst into the room, to confront her, to tell Ethan that none of it was true. But I couldn’t move. I was frozen, listening as she continued to weave her poison into his thoughts.

“They’ve got you wrapped around their little finger,” she hissed. “And you’re letting them. You’re letting them tell you how to live, how to think. But you don’t have to. You’re stronger than that, Ethan. Don’t you see? She’s just like them.”

Ethan didn’t respond. He sat there, silent, absorbing her venomous words.

From that day on, things only got worse. The whispers grew louder, more frequent, until they were no longer whispers but commands. Ethan began to believe every lie his mother fed him, began to look at me not with love, but with suspicion. He questioned my every move, doubted my every word.

I tried to talk to him, to make him see that his mother was manipulating him, driving a wedge between us. But he wouldn’t hear it. She had done her job well. The serpent had bitten, and its poison was coursing through his veins.

The man who had once prayed with me, who had once defended me from the world, was now a stranger. A stranger who no longer trusted the hand that had once held him so gently.

And I was left wondering if the love we had once shared could ever be saved from the serpent that now lived between us.

Bitten by the serpent I fed: Betrayal of the hand that helped - Chapter 1: The Bite

I’ve always believed in second chances. It's a creed I carried like a badge, telling myself that no one is beyond redemption, and that in the end, kindness would prevail. But no one warns you about the cost of being too open, too trusting. They never tell you how the serpent you nurse back to life could one day sink its fangs into your outstretched hand.

When I first met Simon, he was broken in a way that made people turn away. Most people saw a lost cause—empty eyes, crumpled clothes, and the faint smell of despair that clung to him like a second skin. But I saw potential. I saw a man beaten down by life, standing at the edge of a cliff with no one to pull him back. And against all reason, I extended my hand.

I suppose that’s where the mistake began—thinking that kindness was the answer to every question. That somehow, offering help without limits could heal a soul that wasn’t mine to fix.

I first crossed paths with him at a charity event. He was slouched against the bar, nursing a drink like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. Our conversation was brief, almost forced. I was there for the cause, a fundraiser for a local shelter, and Simon… well, he was there for the free drinks. But even then, there was something about him that drew me in—maybe it was the way his eyes avoided mine, or the way he seemed like he didn’t belong. Whatever it was, I found myself intrigued, wondering what had broken him so thoroughly.

By the end of the night, he was in my orbit. We exchanged numbers, I told him about the work I did, and he seemed interested, if only for a moment. When I suggested he volunteer with us, he gave me a look that made me second-guess myself. But I was determined. I saw a flicker of something in him, something I thought could be saved.

Weeks passed, and Simon became a constant in my life. I invited him into my world, introducing him to people who could help, giving him opportunities he hadn’t earned. He started showing up at the shelter, at first just to help out, and then to talk. There were days when he would sit in the corner, watching me work, like he was trying to figure me out. I never asked him about his past—I figured, if he wanted to tell me, he would. But slowly, bits of his story leaked through the cracks.

He’d lost everything, or so he said. A career, a family, a future. He painted himself as a victim of circumstance, and I believed him. How could I not? He was charming when he wanted to be, and vulnerable in a way that made you want to protect him.

Looking back now, I see the warning signs I ignored. The inconsistencies in his stories, the way he manipulated his way into the lives of others, always playing the part of the wounded animal. But I didn’t see it then. I couldn’t. I was too busy trying to save him.

One night, after we’d spent hours talking over coffee, he said something that stuck with me. “You’re too good to me,” he muttered, eyes downcast, tracing the rim of his cup. “I don’t deserve this.”

I smiled, brushing it off like a compliment, like it was nothing more than his self-doubt speaking. “Everyone deserves a second chance,” I told him. “You just need to believe in yourself.”

But Simon wasn’t just doubting himself. He was doubting me, too. And in the coming months, I would learn that giving him a second chance came at a price I hadn’t anticipated.

The first time things went wrong, it was subtle. Little lies, told with such confidence that I almost didn’t notice them. A missed meeting, a forgotten promise—small things that, at the time, seemed like honest mistakes. But they built up. And each time, I found myself forgiving him, brushing aside my suspicions because I still believed in the man I thought I knew.

But the serpent was coiling, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The bite didn’t come all at once. It wasn’t a single betrayal, but a series of small, calculated moves. He borrowed money, promised to pay it back. He didn’t. He asked for help getting a job, swore he wouldn’t let me down. He did. And yet, every time I was on the verge of cutting him off, he would pull me back in with an apology, a promise to do better. And I believed him, because I wanted to.

It wasn’t until the night everything fell apart that I realized just how deep the venom ran. Simon had taken more than I could have ever imagined—my trust, my security, and the very things I’d built my life around. The money was one thing, but it was the betrayal of friendship that hurt the most. He had used me, manipulated me, and in the end, left me to pick up the pieces while he disappeared into the shadows.

The bite of the serpent I fed still stings. It’s a wound that hasn’t fully healed, a scar that serves as a reminder of the danger of misplaced loyalty.

And now, as I sit here, recounting the events that led me to this moment, I wonder how many others have been bitten by the serpents they tried to save.

Addictions and the Manifestation of Demonic Influence

The drapes hung torn and sagging, like the weary souls lost in the darkness of addiction. Addiction is not just a physical or psychological battle—it is a spiritual warfare where demonic forces seek to destroy the very essence of who we are. Those suffering from addiction may feel trapped, like prisoners in their own skin, chained to their habits, but the Bible offers both warning and hope to those seeking freedom.

The Spiritual Battle Behind Addiction

In the dim glow of that desperate night, the hand of the enemy extended through the haze, offering another hit—another taste of death disguised as a temporary escape. Addiction often feels like an endless cycle, much like the experience described in the passage. The enemy whispers lies, telling us we are beyond saving, that we will never escape, and that God’s promises are not meant for us.

The Bible tells us that Satan is a deceiver and accuser. Revelation 12:10 calls him "the accuser of our brethren," one who accuses us day and night, planting seeds of guilt and shame to drive us deeper into despair. The condemnation that comes with addiction feels unbearable because it’s not just a natural consequence of our actions—it’s the enemy actively working to destroy our identity and relationship with God. As Jesus said in John 10:10, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.” Addiction, no matter what form it takes, is one of the tools the enemy uses to do just that.

The Gaps Between God’s Promises and Our Experience

There’s a striking gap between God’s promises and our lived experiences, particularly when battling addiction. God promises peace, victory, and transformation, yet in the midst of addiction, we often find ourselves filled with anxiety, defeat, and self-condemnation. This gap feels like a chasm that grows wider with every relapse or failure.

But God is not distant in these struggles. He wants to close these gaps and bring healing to every part of our brokenness. The Apostle Paul speaks to this in Romans 7:19-20, where he describes the internal war we all face: "For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing." This war is not unique to any one person; it is the battle every human heart faces when trying to live a godly life in a fallen world.

However, Paul goes on to offer hope in Romans 8:1: “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” Even in the midst of addiction, God’s grace is available, and He does not hold our failures over us.

 The Manifestation of Demonic Influence

Addiction opens the door to demonic influence because it exploits our deepest weaknesses and fears. The moment of relapse, where shame floods in, is often the moment when demonic forces speak the loudest, echoing the voice of the tempter in the Garden of Eden, questioning God’s truth and goodness: “Did God really say…?”

Ephesians 6:12 reminds us that our battle is not against flesh and blood, but against "the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." Demons seek to exploit addiction, reinforcing the lie that we are beyond redemption, that we are destined to fall repeatedly. Their influence thrives on hopelessness, isolation, and despair, leading those trapped in addiction to feel abandoned by God.

But these demonic lies are countered by the truth of God’s Word. In John 8:36, Jesus says, “If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” True freedom from addiction does not come from self-effort but from surrendering to the One who has already won the victory on our behalf.

 The Power of God's Spirit in Breaking Addiction

The strength to overcome addiction is not found in willpower alone but in the power of the Holy Spirit. Ephesians 1:13-14 speaks of believers being "sealed with the promised Holy Spirit," a guarantee of our inheritance and the power to overcome sin. The Holy Spirit empowers us to fight not just the physical cravings but the spiritual battles tied to addiction.

The key is to stop believing the lie that victory depends on us alone. Galatians 5:16 urges us to "walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh." When we submit to God, we allow His Spirit to work in us, leading us away from the destructive patterns that have bound us. This submission doesn’t mean the battle will be easy or instant, but it means we are no longer fighting alone.

 Hope and Motivation for the Addicted Soul

For those feeling trapped in addiction, the promise of deliverance is real. God does not want His children to live in bondage. 2 Corinthians 5:17 assures us that “if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” Even after a relapse or moment of weakness, God’s grace is still available. We are not abandoned because of our failures; instead, God draws near to the brokenhearted and promises to deliver us (Psalm 34:18).

The journey to freedom from addiction may be long, but it is a path marked by God’s faithfulness. In the book of James, we are reminded to "submit to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you" (James 4:7). With each step of surrender, God fights for us, and the forces that once held us captive begin to lose their power.

Victory Through Christ

Addiction is not the final word. Though demonic influence seeks to enslave and destroy, God offers freedom, healing, and transformation through Christ. As Jesus declared in John 10:10, “I have come that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” This abundant life is available to every believer, no matter how deep the addiction or how long the battle.

God has already won the war, and His victory can be our victory. By relying on His strength and not our own, we can break free from the chains of addiction and experience the fullness of life He has promised us. Trust in His power, walk in His Spirit, and remember: “If the Son sets you free, you are free indeed” (John 8:36).

Marriage is God Ordained

The first chapters of the Bible record how God created the heavens and the earth, including plants, animals and finally humans. He did not just create a man, Adam, but also “a helper fit for him." God made a woman from the man’s rib, and brought her to Adam to be his wife. Adam and Eve were not just created as two separate individuals, but as the first human couple.

Marriage, thus, is not just a social institution that developed over time in various cultures. On the contrary, it has been ordained by God, right from the beginning. This makes marriage universal. It is not optional, but should be a cornerstone of every society (which does not mean that every individual should marry — more about that later). Marriage is good in God’s eyes.

The Bible also records many examples of marriages that did not meet God’s standards at all. You probably know such situations as well. Since humans have become sinful and imperfect, their marriages are damaged, too. This makes it all the more important to carefully listen to what God has to say about marriage and how He intended it to be.