The demons have always knocked at my door. At all hours. Softly at first, then harder and more demanding. Since I was young I invited them in. At first only the polite "reasonable" sounding ones. I'd make a deal and they'd leave only to return a little sooner each time. Sometimes they'd return with friends, make an introduction, and I'd let them in too. They made clever arguments, inspired passion, pride, lust and anger. They told me that I was a good person and I wanted to believe it. I was being pragmatic, not evil! As time went on, more and more demons occupied my heart. Things got messy, anxious, ugly. But that wasn't my fault. I was a good person!
The revelation of my own wickedness was a shock to me, and impossible to ignore. That was about five years ago. It was the spark that lit a Christian fire in my heart. I needed Jesus. I cried for Jesus! But I didn't know how to be a Christian. I've never had a cigarette habit but I started in secret to send my prayers up to God through tobacco smoke, something I'd heard American Indians did that oddly felt right to me during this time. One by one my demons were revealed to me and I began the painful process of removing them and repairing what I could of the damage they did.
Five years later I have a beautiful wife and a growing family (two kids and counting), but the demons still knock and some of them I still let in. The difference (which was powerfully revealed to me) is that now when I let one in I am inviting them near my children. My demons are not my problem alone. They are not just trying to destroy me but use me to get into the world and destroy others. I am a doorway for them to sneak into God's creation and spread their poison. This is a burden I take seriously. I have to. And so I must remember that prayer makes me strong but when I fail, repentance will bring a glorious army of angels to bear on my enemies.
