Prayer Is Not Just A Weapon
by Donavon L Riley

Brothers and sisters, the real war we’re fighting is not one of flesh, but of the Spirit. The enemies that press in on all sides aren’t the ones you can see—they’re hidden in the shadows and in your own heart. The battle rages in the silence, in the moments when the world falls away and all that’s left is you and your thoughts. And the weapon you need to survive? It’s not some trick of willpower, not some brute force of effort. It’s prayer—deep, old, unshakable prayer. Without it, you are swinging blindly at ghosts, groping through the dark, unable to find your way. But with it? With it, you hand over the reins to someone much larger than yourself. You take that battle-axe, and it’s as if the weight of it is no longer yours alone. God grips the handle with you. And it’s His strength—His wild, untamable strength—that will cut down what you can’t even see.

But prayer, real prayer, isn’t a last-ditch effort. It’s not something you turn to only when the walls are closing in and all your other defenses have crumbled. It’s your first breath, the thing you wake up to, the thing that sustains you. It is the ground you walk on, the air you breathe. Think about the old smiths hammering away at iron, hour after hour. They knew that it wasn’t the first strike or the second that would do the work—it was the rhythm, the unceasing blows, the way they kept at it until that iron was shaped, strong, and ready for the fight.

Prayer is just like that. It’s not about grand moments or bursts of inspiration. It’s about showing up, again and again, even when you feel like nothing is changing, even when you can’t see the sparks flying. You hammer away, and over time, your soul is shaped in God’s smithy.

And how do you keep that fire of prayer burning? How do you keep it alive when the world pulls at you from every direction, tempting you to forget, to let it slip away? You pray that God will continue to guard it like a precious flame, holding you close, sheltering you from the winds of distraction. You pray to stay humble, to always remember your own frailty, your own weakness. That’s where the power comes from—not from thinking you’ve got it all figured out, but from knowing how much you need God. And that’s when prayer takes root, when it becomes alive in you. It’s not just words; it’s the cry of God’s Spirit in your soul, the deep yearning of the Holy Spirit to give you something beyond the temporary things of the world.

So, brothers and sisters, when you’re in the thick of the fight, when the enemy is pressing in, and you feel like you’re about to be overwhelmed, don’t rely on your own strength. Turn to prayer. Let it rise up from the gut, from your soul, like a river bursting its banks. Cry out with the full weight of your being. And know this: you are not alone. The moment you pray, you call down the armies of heaven. Your guardian angel stands beside you, sword in hand. The Holy Spirit, the breath of God, moving through you, strengthening you in ways you can’t even begin to understand. This is no ordinary fight. This is the ancient war of the divine Spirit, and every step you take in prayer sends ripples through the unseen world, striking at the heart of the enemy.

Prayer is not just a weapon—it is THE weapon. Keep it close. Let it be your constant companion. And watch how God makes the impossible possible, how He makes the dark powers tremble and flee before His heavenly Light.