Attacking the anointing

There comes a point in every believer’s life when drawing closer to the Lord stops being a nice idea and starts becoming a holy collision. At first, many people expect that nearness to God will instantly make everything quieter—fewer problems, fewer tensions, fewer battles, fewer disruptions. But what we discover, sooner or later, is that spiritual growth doesn’t always reduce pressure. Sometimes it increases it. Not because God is punishing anyone, and not because they’re doing something wrong, but because when a life moves toward the light, everything that thrives in darkness begins to react. Scripture has always made room for this reality. “Beloved, do not think it strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you” (1 Peter 4:12). In other words, the Lord was never trying to hide the fact that growth invites friction. The friction doesn’t mean God is absent. It often means God is advancing something.

And we need clarity right now, because many believers are walking through seasons that feel more intense than they used to. They are praying more, worshiping more, surrendering more—and yet the resistance feels louder. Distractions multiply. Pressure rises. Relationships strain. Thoughts that used to be quiet grow aggressive. And in those moments, the question rises—sometimes out loud, sometimes in secret: “If I’m getting closer to God, why does it feel harder?” But when the Spirit begins to open our understanding, we realize something that changes everything: the battle is not proof of failure, it is often evidence of calling. The apostle Paul said it plainly: “A great and effective door has opened to me, and there are many adversaries” (1 Corinthians 16:9). He didn’t say adversaries proved the door was closed. He said opposition was standing next to opportunity.

That is why the attacks often intensify when the anointing increases. The anointing is not just a feeling. It is spiritual substance—God’s enabling, God’s authority, God’s presence resting on a surrendered life for divine purpose. And when that substance increases, it registers. It registers in heaven, and it registers in the realm of darkness. That’s why scripture shows again and again that anointed people are contended with. Not because they are weak, but because they are becoming effective. “We do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against…spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12). This means what many believers experience is not always a personality clash, not always random tension, not always “bad luck.” Sometimes it is a spiritual response to spiritual movement.

This is what many have felt without having language for it: attacking the anointed. Not the perfect. Not the famous. Not the flawless. The anointed—the ones being separated, refined, equipped, and trusted with spiritual weight. The ones whose “yes” is no longer theoretical. The ones whose prayer life is no longer occasional. The ones whose hunger is no longer casual. The ones who are beginning to carry light into places that used to stay hidden. And because darkness does not ignore light, it reacts. It resists. It pushes back.

That’s why the attacks often feel sudden. One season seems calm, and then without warning—confusion, heaviness, unusual distractions, relational tension, internal pressure. It’s not always that circumstances “randomly changed.” Sometimes what changed is the believer’s spiritual posture. They are now confronting things they used to tolerate. They are now noticing what they used to ignore. They are now stepping into territory that challenges darkness—and darkness responds the only way it knows how. “Resist the devil and he will flee from you. Draw near to God and He will draw near to you” (James 4:7–8). Notice the order: drawing near is not passive. It’s a movement. And resistance is often the reaction when that movement becomes real.

The enemy does not waste warfare on what is stagnant. He does not fight what is inactive. He does not resist what poses no threat. That’s why some people feel more resistance precisely when they start moving forward. When prayer deepens, when obedience strengthens, when compromise is cut off, when separation becomes real, when the Word becomes living, when intimacy becomes priority—resistance often rises. Not because the believer is failing. But because the believer is advancing. Jesus Himself described the reality of pressure with unusual honesty: “In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). He didn’t deny the pressure. He anchored the believer inside victory, even while pressure exists.

And there is another pattern woven throughout scripture: pressure often peaks right before promotion. Not after, but before. God doesn’t elevate casually. When He is preparing to entrust a person with greater influence, greater responsibility, and greater spiritual authority, He first builds capacity. Pressure exposes what comfort hides. It reveals what a person truly trusts. It reveals where surrender is real and where it has still been selective. Under pressure, motives are purified, pride is stripped, and dependence on God becomes deeper. That’s why many believers feel tempted to quit right before breakthrough—because resistance intensifies at the edge of a shift. But the Word says, “Let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart” (Galatians 6:9). Due season isn’t imaginary. It’s real. And weariness is one of the enemy’s favorite tools—because he doesn’t always need to destroy a believer; he just needs to exhaust them.

The enemy wants exhaustion to speak louder than promise. He wants discouragement to drown out discernment. He wants the believer to interpret the season as punishment when it is actually preparation. But scripture keeps correcting the lens: “Count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work” (James 1:2–4). That isn’t telling believers to enjoy pain. It is revealing what pain can produce—stability, maturity, endurance—if they stay submitted.

But even more strategically, the enemy often aims first at identity. For many believers, the first battlefield is not their circumstances—it’s their sense of who they are in Christ. Because the enemy understands that authority flows from identity. If he can confuse identity, he can delay assignment. So the attacks often come as thoughts before they come as events—doubt before destruction, confusion before collapse. Old insecurities rise up again. Questions that seemed settled return with force. The mind gets crowded with whispering accusations: “You’re not ready. You’re not qualified. You don’t really hear God. You’re behind. You’re inconsistent. You’re pretending.” And the goal of that pressure is simple—to get the believer fighting themselves instead of standing in faith.

But scripture has already exposed this tactic. Jesus heard the Father’s affirmation—“This is My beloved Son”—and then the enemy came immediately with a sentence built like a needle: “If You are the Son…” (Matthew 3:17; 4:3). That is what the enemy does. He attacks what God has affirmed. Yet the believer is not meant to answer accusation with emotion, but with truth. That’s why Romans says, “The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God” (Romans 8:16). Identity isn’t something we invent; it’s something heaven witnesses to. So when identity attacks intensify, they don’t always mean the believer is off track. Often they mean the believer is close enough to purpose that darkness is trying to blur what God has made clear.

Then, for many, the warfare takes a painful turn—not because of strangers, but because of familiarity. As a believer grows, the people who once applauded them may become uncomfortable with them. Not always because the believer became arrogant, but because growth disrupts comfort. Obedience can expose avoidance. Hunger can expose settling. Discipline can expose compromise. And instead of celebrating what God is doing, some resist it. That resistance can show up as criticism, suspicion, silence, jealousy, withdrawal, or sudden misunderstanding. It can create the strange feeling of being isolated even while still being surrounded by people. And it can be confusing because the believer hasn’t changed their love—only their alignment.

Jesus experienced this reality in His own hometown. Familiarity did not produce honor; it produced offense and unbelief (Mark 6:3–4). And that’s not just a historical detail—it’s a warning about human nature. Sometimes people love the version of a believer that stays small because it feels safe. But when God begins to stretch them, refine them, and call them forward, the room changes. Spiritual growth often creates separation before it creates expansion. Not everyone is assigned to follow someone into their next level of calling. Some people are grace for a season, but not alignment for destiny. And God does not always remove people to punish; often He removes to protect what He is building. That’s why the Word says, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62). Looking back isn’t just nostalgia—it can become hesitation. And hesitation drains momentum.

As the anointing grows, the resistance can become more strategic and intense because the believer is nearing a new level of authority. The enemy does not panic over potential. He reacts to authority that is about to be exercised. When a believer’s anointing moves from forming to functioning, the warfare can become more deliberate. Not because defeat is near, but because territory is near. The enemy wants the believer tired before authority manifests. He wants them reactive instead of rooted, emotional instead of discerning, busy instead of prayerful. He wants them to fight on the wrong level—arguing with people, defending themselves, scrambling for control—because he knows that if he can pull a believer into the flesh, he can drain their oil.

But God uses these moments to teach believers how to carry authority correctly. Authority is not noise. Authority is steadiness. Authority doesn’t require panic. Authority requires posture. “Be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might” (Ephesians 6:10) is not a motivational phrase—it’s an instruction. Strength is not self-generated; it is derived. Believers are not called to be strong in themselves. They are called to be strong in the Lord. And when they learn to stand, not scramble, they begin to walk in a stability that hell cannot easily shake. That’s why the Word also says, “Having done all, to stand” (Ephesians 6:13). Sometimes the most prophetic thing a believer can do is refuse to move out of alignment.

And woven through all of this is a truth God insists on establishing: as anointing increases, self-reliance must decrease. God will not allow a believer to carry greater spiritual weight while trusting in their own strength. So He allows opposition to strip away certain comforts, not to weaken them, but to redirect dependence. There are seasons where answers feel slower, where strength feels thinner, where familiar supports seem to fall away. These are not signs of abandonment. They are invitations to intimacy. God is teaching believers how to lean, not strive—how to listen, not rush—how to trust, not control. Paul captured it with piercing accuracy: “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). The world worships strength that looks impressive. God perfects strength that comes through surrender.

Opposition reveals where confidence truly rests. When human support fails, what remains is the believer’s connection to God—and that connection is where true anointing flows. The enemy wants opposition to isolate; God uses it to draw closer. The enemy wants fatigue to silence the mouth; God uses the pressure to deepen prayer. The enemy wants the believer to interpret the season as abandonment; God uses the same season to cultivate intimacy that can never be stolen.

And that leads to the final reality that must be spoken over every growing believer: endurance activates the full measure of the anointing. Many are anointed, but not all remain when the warfare becomes prolonged. The enemy doesn’t always need dramatic sin to delay a calling. Sometimes all he needs is time—enough to wear a person down until they compromise, quiet down, withdraw, stop praying, or lose heart. That is why endurance is so powerful. Every day a believer chooses obedience under pressure, they are reinforcing spiritual authority. “Blessed is the man who endures temptation; for when he has been approved, he will receive the crown of life” (James 1:12). Approval isn’t God “finally liking someone.” Approval is proof of tested faith. It’s evidence of maturity.

God often waits to release the fullness of anointing until endurance is proven—not because He is withholding, but because He is protecting. What is released too early can be misused, mishandled, or abandoned. Endurance proves maturity. Endurance proves trustworthiness. Endurance proves that a believer can carry power with responsibility. And if someone is still standing after what tried to take them out, that alone is evidence of growth. The anointing isn’t fading—it’s stabilizing. It’s becoming rooted. It’s becoming durable. It’s becoming less dependent on applause and more dependent on presence.

So if the battle has intensified for those drawing nearer to the Lord, it is not a sign to retreat. It is a signal to stand. The pressure is not random. The timing is not meaningless. The resistance is not proof of failure. For many, it is confirmation that God is increasing the oil, expanding capacity, sharpening discernment, and preparing them to walk in what He promised. Darkness responds when light grows brighter, but the light does not retreat. The light remains. The believer remains. And the God who began the work will complete it. “He who has begun a good work in you will complete it” (Philippians 1:6). The season will shift. The weight will make sense. The endurance will pay dividends. And those who refused to quit will realize they were not being buried—they were being planted.

Now we speak to the spiritual atmosphere around every reader—every believer who is growing, every life that is drawing closer, every heart that is becoming hungry—and we declare what heaven is saying in this season:

Declarations

I declare that as I draw closer to the Lord, I will not be surprised by resistance—I will be strengthened by discernment.

I declare that increased warfare will not intimidate me, because God is increasing His oil and authority in my life.

I declare that every attack against identity, calling, and confidence is broken in the name of Jesus.

I declare that confusion will not rule my mind; clarity, peace, and spiritual stability are my portion.

I declare that I will not retreat at the edge of promotion; I will endure and remain faithful.

I declare that relational pressure will not poison my heart; I will walk in love, wisdom, and discernment.

I declare that offense will not drain my oil, bitterness will not take root, and compromise will not steal my future.

I declare that God is aligning my life, pruning what is not assigned, and protecting what He is building.

I declare that I will fight in the Spirit, not in the flesh—steadfast, prayerful, and anchored in truth.

I declare that dependence on God is not weakness—it is the foundation of lasting anointing.

I declare that endurance is unlocking the next level of authority, maturity, and fruitfulness in my life.

I declare that what the enemy meant for harm, God is using for refinement, strengthening, and elevation.

I declare that I will finish my assignment and fulfill my calling with humility, purity, and power.

I declare that the God who started this work will complete it, and I will walk in the fullness of His promises. Amen. Much love.