I had a relationship that both brought me to God and almost made me stop believing in Him.
It was a strange season of tension. I found myself caught in a quiet war between my boyfriend’s family and my church family.
When I first came to my church, I was so excited to learn the things of God that I had quickly become a key part of the church community. I loved being there.
I even used to get upset with my boyfriend and his brother for always wanting to arrive late enough to miss the worship portion of the service. Eventually, I started going alone.
If the doors were open, I was there.
If there was an event, a guest speaker, or even just a decorating night, I showed up to help.
When Faith Became Complicated
That summer, my pastor’s spiritual parents came to visit, and their presence carried such a strong sense of the Holy Spirit that it seemed to spill over onto everyone around them. Those nights were incredible; I even turned one of them into a memoir piece.
Gathered around the fire one evening, I even received the gift of speaking in tongues for the first time!
But by then, my boyfriend and his family had stopped attending with me. Every time I came home excited to share something I’d learned, they responded with criticism or skepticism.
Earlier that year, I had gone to a women’s conference with the ladies from my church: a powerful weekend for me spiritually. When I got home, the only comment my boyfriend made was to look at his parents and say, “She got louder.”
The separation between us was growing.
The Night Everything Shifted
One night, when my pastor’s mentors from Yellowknife were visiting, several of us gathered for fellowship. Two of the men began to laugh and dance under what we believed was the Holy Spirit. To me, it was joy and freedom. To my boyfriend’s brother, it looked unhinged.
When I got home that night, I was herded into the living room to watch a video warning about “demons hiding in the church.” Every sign of the so-called false Holy Spirit matched what I had just seen.
I was horrified.
And I was torn.
Part of me doubted that explanation, but I couldn’t yet find the words for why.
Over the next few weeks, suspicion grew. My boyfriend’s family and I began praying against what they believed were demonic manifestations. I prayed too, but differently.
“If this isn’t of You, God, stop it. Cease its tongue. Take Your spotlight back.”
But the manifestations never stopped.
When I Decided to Hear from God Directly
Eventually, I stopped discussing the fear of demons masquerading as the Holy Ghost with anyone, not even my pastor. I turned to God directly and prayed:
“I want You to show me what’s happening. Teach me what’s good, what’s evil, and how to tell the difference.”
At my next church service, the worship team was led into a deep spiritual flow. A woman began to cry out: a sound like mourning and release all at once. My instinct was to start my ‘battle prayer’ again:
“If this is not of You, silence it.”
But then I heard Him, clear as day, amused but kind:
“What makes you so sure that what she’s doing is wrong?”
I froze. “I don’t know! That’s why I’m praying about it!”
He chuckled. The creator of all things, the Alpha and the Omega, the great I AM… Chuckled.
“How do you think you can find out?”
In that moment, I understood. I’d been asking for something to stop instead of asking to see it clearly.
So I prayed differently:
“Father, show me in the Spirit what’s happening. Let me see it with my own eyes.”
And He did. He opened my eyes to see what was unfolding in the Spirit. The good and the ugly and the bad.
From then on, I began to pray for spiritual sight instead of spiritual control, and He honoured that request gladly.
When God Drew the Line Between Love and Loyalty
As my relationship with God deepened, my relationship with my boyfriend fractured. The more I heard from God, the less safe I felt with the boyfriend.
Eventually, I moved out.
We were still technically together, but I told him, “Until you’re helping build the foundation we’re supposed to stand on, I can’t take you with me.”
Soon after, I began to feel an unexpected pull to reach out to someone from my past. I thought it might be a trick from the enemy because my boyfriend hated this person, and we had a history.
I prayed, “If this isn’t from You, God, take it away.”
Instead, the feeling grew stronger.
Finally, I said to God, half-frustrated, “If I don’t see a big red NO by the end of the weekend, I’m reaching out.”
As I stepped into the shower, I heard Him whisper:
“Do it now.”
That reconnection became one of my closest, most God-ordained friendships.
But to my boyfriend, it was just more “proof” that I was listening to demons because of his own personal dislike for this person. He felt like God would have never encouraged that interaction.
The Breaking Point
Days later, I knew it was time to end things. I went home angry at God because I felt guilty knowing I was going to break my soon-to-be ex’s heart.
“I hate this,” I told Him. “I don’t want to be someone who gives up on love.”
That night, I prayed, “You’ll have to give me the strength, because I don’t have it.”
The next morning, I woke up with a peace so steady that I knew it was Him. And I followed through.
Spiritual Attack and Spiritual Clarity
After the breakup, my ex invited me for “fellowship.” I knew deep in my heart that it was a trap, but I went anyway, armoured up in prayer.
During the visit, he tried to prove I was under demonic influence. At one point, he began to move against me physically, trying desperately to force me to hear his lies as truth. And when he tried to block me in so I couldn’t leave, I felt it. The trap had sprung. It was like a slimy hand sliding down my back. Literally.
I stood up, left without hearing any more or arguing, and drove home shaking.
For two weeks afterward, my body reacted like it had been through physical trauma, even though it hadn’t. That experience showed me how real spiritual warfare can feel and how vital discernment truly is.
What God Taught Me About True Discernment
In my exhaustion, I looked up at the ceiling one night and prayed:
“I need to hear it directly from You, God. I can’t keep wondering if what I’m seeing is from You or from the enemy, and I don’t know who to believe around me. Please, Papa, I need to know.”
And He answered immediately, and powerfully, so that there could be no doubt that it was Him. He guided me through Scripture, through worship, through His unnatural peace.
He taught me that true discernment doesn’t come from suspicion; it comes from connection.
Because fear will always rush you to label something.
Discernment will slow you down long enough to understand it.
Fear reacts.
Discernment listens.
I had been taught to fight anything that didn’t look familiar. But God was teaching me to look again before I picked up a weapon.
Because what looks wild might be holy.
And what looks peaceful might still be deception.
Discernment isn’t about calling things out quickly. It’s about staying close enough to God that you don’t have to guess.
Close enough to recognize His voice without panic.
Close enough to feel when something is off, even if you can’t explain it yet.
Close enough that you trust Him more than the loudest voice in the room.
That’s what He taught me.
Not how to be suspicious of everything.
But how to be rooted enough in Him… that I don’t need to be afraid of being wrong anymore.
Because if I stay close, He will correct me. He always does.
And that—more than anything else—is what discernment really is.
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