Fighting Demons

I have been fighting demons in my dreams for as long as I can remember. In my dreams I always know exactly what to do: pray. In my dreams it is easy to recognize a demon. It fights by trying to suck the breath out of me; I fight back with prayer. Sometimes the demon is so close to my own mouth that I cannot muster enough breath for a prayer. But if I whisper or even mouth the name of Jesus then the demon can’t hurt me and is defeated.
Recently I have begun to fight the demons while I am awake. I finally recognize them. They don’t look like the demons in my dreams; they don’t have demonic faces. Rather, they are more of a shadow that passes across a person’s face: my own face. The demons curl themselves into the corner of my consciousness, whispering words that demean and undermine my efforts to live a fruitful life.
“You should feel horrible about yourself, your body, your finances, your house, your parenting skills, or lack thereof. What a loser! How can you live with yourself? You are a drain on society; you’d be doing the world a favor if you die…” This is the poisonous vapor that spews from the lips of demons; this is the toxic haze of depression.
But now that I recognize the demons I fight them the same way I have been trained to fight them in my dreams. I can pray. I can draw close to God, and he draws close to me; the devil has no choice but to flee. God arms me with weapons of light. His words are the weapons in my armament. His comfort is my reward and my refuge.