And Then the Lights Went Out (right after writing Dangerous to Darkness)

Earlier today, I published a Field Note called Dangerous to Darkness.

I wrote about what happens when a man becomes so surrendered to God that fear, pride, comfort, money, shame, approval, and opposition can no longer control him. I wrote that darkness does not fear the loudest man in the room; it fears the surrendered man who is fully available for God to use.

Then I went to church, and darkness answered.

Our pastor was beginning a new section about witchcraft, specifically the spirit of rebellion. Not the Hollywood version of witchcraft with costumes, cauldrons, spells, and smoke, but the form Scripture exposes inside the human heart: the decision to reject God’s authority so we can preserve our own.

First Samuel 15:23 says, “For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft.” Rebellion does not always scream that it hates God. Sometimes it attends church, knows the language, sings the songs, and still quietly says, “I will decide which parts of God’s instruction apply to me.”

As we entered prayer, the pastor began praying directly against witchcraft and rebellious spirits. The room was focused. The prayer was moving. The very thing that depends on resistance to God’s authority was being confronted by people submitting themselves to that authority.

Then there was a loud POP.

Every light went out. The entire room went dark.

The timing was impossible for me to ignore. Earlier that day, I had publicly written about becoming dangerous to darkness. Now, while our church was praying against witchcraft and rebellion, the power failed and literal darkness entered the room. I believe we were under spiritual attack. The enemy did not like the message, did not like the agreement being broken, and did not like a church naming the spirit that depends on remaining hidden. The darkness came as an interruption, a distraction, and an attempt to make us stop.

But the lights going out did not make God leave.

For about fifteen minutes, we kept praying. The electrical power was gone, but the prayer did not lose its power. The conditions changed, but the assignment did not. The room became dark, but the church did not have to become darkness with it. We did not need the lights to return before we could continue submitting to God, resisting the enemy, and agreeing with truth.

Then the lights and power came back on.

We finished the message.

That may be my favorite part of the entire story. The enemy tried to interrupt a message about rebellion, but the church did not rebel against the assignment. Darkness tried to stop the prayer by changing the environment, but we kept praying inside the changed environment. The attack did not cancel the message. It became part of the message.

It went dark, but the Light never left.

When the Message Becomes a Demonstration

It is easy to write about spiritual warfare when the room is bright, the sound system works, the plan is moving, and everything around you appears to cooperate. It is different when the message moves off the page and the resistance becomes visible.

I had written that a surrendered man is dangerous because opposition can no longer decide whether he obeys. Hours later, our church had an opportunity to live that sentence. Would prayer depend on electricity? Would focus depend on comfort? Would our authority depend on a microphone, a stage, or the ability to see everything around us? Would darkness entering the room cause us to agree with fear, confusion, distraction, or defeat?

Or would we keep praying?

That is the line between information and transformation. Information can tell you that the struggle is not against flesh and blood. Transformation teaches you to keep praying when the lights go out. Information can quote James 4:7—submit to God, resist the devil, and he will flee. Transformation holds that position when resistance appears. Information says Jesus is the Light of the world. Transformation recognizes that a dark room cannot change who He is.

The enemy may interrupt the electricity, but he cannot extinguish the Light. He may change the conditions, but he does not get to cancel the assignment. He may bring confusion into a moment, but he cannot force us to agree with it. He may attempt to stop the message, but every failed attempt becomes another paragraph in the testimony.

That is exactly what happened today. I posted Dangerous to Darkness, and then an attempt to bring darkness gave me another Field Note. What tried to silence the message became evidence inside the next one.

Rebellion Wants the Final Word

The pastor’s focus on rebellion matters because spiritual warfare is not only about what attacks us from the outside. It is also about what seeks agreement inside us.

Rebellion is the refusal to remain under God’s authority. It is not merely breaking a rule. It is the deeper belief that my judgment, appetite, fear, timing, preference, or desired outcome deserves the final word. God can speak clearly, but rebellion reserves the right to edit the instruction. It obeys the convenient portion, delays the costly portion, and then tries to rename partial obedience as wisdom.

That is what happened with King Saul in 1 Samuel 15. God gave an instruction, Saul preserved what he wanted, and then he presented his altered obedience as though it were faithfulness. Samuel exposed the issue: God was not looking for Saul to decorate disobedience with religious language. He was looking for submission.

This is why Scripture connects rebellion with witchcraft. Both reach for control that belongs to God. Witchcraft attempts to manipulate spiritual power to produce a desired outcome. Rebellion rejects God’s authority whenever His direction interferes with the outcome we want. One may look openly dark while the other can hide beneath respectable language, but both place the human will on the throne.

Complete surrender removes that throne.

A surrendered man does not obey only when he understands the outcome. He recognizes the Shepherd’s voice and moves. He does not need sight to give faith permission. He does not place God’s direction beneath a vote from fear, comfort, public opinion, or personal convenience. He belongs to God, and because he belongs to God, rebellion no longer gets the final word.

That is what makes surrender dangerous to darkness. Darkness survives through agreement, and rebellion is one of its oldest agreements. The moment a man says, “Not my will, but Yours,” an entire control system begins losing access to him.

Thy Kingdom Come in a Dark Room

The Lord’s Prayer may be one of the most familiar prayers in Christianity, but familiarity can make us forget how confrontational it actually is. Jesus did not teach us to pray as people begging darkness for permission to survive. He taught us to begin with the authority, holiness, Kingdom, will, provision, forgiveness, direction, deliverance, power, and glory of our Father.

“Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.” Those words are the exact opposite of rebellion. Rebellion says, “My kingdom come. My will be done. I will control the outcome, preserve what I want, and decide how much authority God is allowed to have.” Surrender opens its hands and prays, “Your Kingdom. Your will. Here, now, in this room, even when the lights go out.”

That prayer does not deny evil. Jesus taught us to name it and ask the Father to deliver us from it. “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” We are not pretending there is no war. We are establishing whose authority governs us inside it. We are asking God to expose the temptation to panic, scatter, take control, lose focus, or rebel against the assignment—and then deliver us from the evil trying to use that temptation.

The prayer ends by putting every claim of darkness back in its proper place: “For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever.” The building’s power could fail because it was never the power the prayer depended on. The room could become dark because physical light was never the Light we were trusting. The enemy could attempt to interrupt the moment because the enemy has never possessed the Kingdom, the power, the glory, or the authority to write the ending.

In those fifteen minutes, the Lord’s Prayer was more than words many of us had memorized. It became a posture. God’s Kingdom was still present. His will was still our assignment. Our dependence was still daily. Forgiveness still broke agreement with bitterness. Deliverance still belonged to Him. The power and glory were still His.

Rebellion says, “My will be done.” Surrender prays, “Thy will be done.”

Darkness Needs Your Agreement

The power outage could change what our eyes saw, but it could not decide what our spirits agreed with. That decision still belonged to us.

Darkness wanted the interruption to become the message. It wanted the pop to become panic, the blackout to become confusion, and the confusion to become surrender. It wanted everyone’s attention moved away from prayer and onto the problem. If it could make the environment larger than the assignment, perhaps the assignment would be abandoned.

But an interruption becomes authority only when we agree to let it lead.

This is true far beyond a church power outage. A frightening diagnosis can enter the room, but it does not get to define God’s character. A lawsuit can arrive, but it does not get to become your identity. A financial loss can change your options without changing your assignment. A betrayal can wound you without earning the authority to make you bitter. Fear can speak without being handed the steering wheel. Darkness can be present without being permitted to govern.

The room was dark. That was real. The power was gone. That was real. The attempt to interrupt us was real. But the presence of darkness did not mean the absence of God.

John 1:5 says, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” It does not say darkness never appears. It says darkness does not win. It does not say the lights will never go out. It says the Light cannot be overcome.

We did not deny the darkness. We simply refused to bow to it.

You Discover What You Carry in the Dark

Bright rooms can hide dependence. When the lighting is right, the music is playing, the microphone is working, and the service follows the plan, it is easy to believe we are spiritually prepared. Then the lights go out, the structure disappears, and we discover whether we came only to attend a service or whether we arrived ready for war.

Darkness reveals what light conditions can conceal. If my peace disappears the moment the environment changes, then the environment was carrying more of my peace than I realized. If my obedience stops when the path becomes difficult to see, then sight may have been leading me more than faith. If my prayer requires the perfect atmosphere, then perhaps I have confused production with presence.

The blackout stripped the room down to what mattered. There was no visual environment to lean on. There was simply God, His people, the truth being declared, and a decision about whether we would continue.

We continued.

That is what preparedness looks like in spiritual warfare. It is not living afraid of the next attack. It is building such a practiced dependence on God that the attack does not get to introduce you to Him. You already know where to turn. You already know who has authority. You already know the Shepherd’s voice. You already know that darkness cannot change your identity as a child of light.

When the lights go out, you do not begin looking for a new source. You remember the Source you were connected to before the room went dark.

The Church Stayed Lit

Jesus told His followers, “You are the light of the world.” That means the church is not merely a building that contains lights. It is a people who carry Light.

The electrical system can fail. Bulbs can go dark. Screens, speakers, air conditioners, instruments, and every other physical system can stop. None of those things are the church’s true power source. They may support the gathering, but they do not create the authority. They can help carry the message, but they are not the message.

For those fifteen minutes, the building was dark while the church stayed lit.

Every continued prayer declared that electricity was not our authority. Every moment we remained focused declared that interruption was not our master. Every agreement with God declared that rebellion had been denied another foothold. We did not have to overpower darkness through volume, aggression, or spectacle. We simply had to remain submitted to God and refuse to move from that position.

James gives the order: submit, resist, and watch the enemy flee. Submission is not the soft portion before the real warfare begins. Submission is the position from which spiritual warfare is won. The church did not overcome the interruption by becoming chaotic. It overcame by staying aligned.

Darkness knows how to manipulate panic. It does not know what to do with surrendered peace. Panic would have allowed the pop to control the room. Surrendered peace kept the room under a different authority.

The Message Was Finished

There is something deeply important about finishing after an interruption.

Many assignments are not destroyed by a direct “no.” They are abandoned in the confusion after resistance. The enemy does not always need to defeat a man if he can distract him, exhaust him, offend him, inconvenience him, or make the environment uncomfortable enough that he decides the assignment must not be worth completing.

Finishing is an act of warfare.

The lights returned, and the message continued. We did not treat the interruption as a sign to retreat. We did not give darkness authorship over the ending. The power outage became a comma, not a period.

That is a word for more than one church service. Whatever God asked you to build, repair, confess, confront, release, begin, or finish may experience resistance.

The appearance of resistance does not automatically mean you missed God. Sometimes the resistance exists precisely because obedience is exposing something darkness wanted to keep hidden.

Do not allow a loud pop in the middle of the assignment to become the final sound. Do not allow a dark interval to convince you the story is over. Keep praying. Keep listening. Keep moving. When the light returns, finish the message.

Darkness may interrupt the moment, but it does not get to write the ending.

The Attack Became the Testimony

Earlier today, I wrote that testimony turns scars into doors. I wrote that the enemy intends pain to silence us, but God can use the same story to give another captive permission to believe.

Today, that process happened in hours instead of years.

The attempted interruption immediately became testimony. The darkness did not stay hidden as an unexplained moment. It exposed the exact strategy the message had named: bring fear, confusion, distraction, or discomfort and hope people surrender their obedience. But because the church continued, the strategy became visible—and a visible strategy is easier to refuse the next time it appears.

The enemy wanted less prayer and produced more testimony. He wanted the message stopped and helped create its sequel. He wanted darkness to become the final image, but the final image was the lights returning and the church completing what it had started.

This is why recording and releasing the story matters. We do not glorify the attack. We glorify the God whose presence remained when the conditions changed. We do not become obsessed with darkness. We expose its limitation. We do not make the enemy the central character. We show that he attempted to interrupt a move of God and still could not prevent the prayer, the Word, or the finish.

The lesson is not that every power outage is a spiritual attack. The lesson is what happened in this moment, with this timing, during this prayer, immediately after this message—and how the church responded. I know what the moment showed me: darkness is real, spiritual warfare is real, and the Light is not fragile.

Stay Dangerous When It Gets Dark

It is easy to feel dangerous while writing the declaration. It becomes real when the lights go out.

Being dangerous to darkness means your obedience does not depend on ideal conditions. It means opposition cannot choose your posture for you. It means rebellion is not allowed to disguise itself as inconvenience, delay, fear, or the need to control the ending. It means you stay under God’s authority when the room changes around you.

This is how the D.A.N.G.E.R. Field Note Method applies:

Drop the Mask. Admit whether your faith depends on comfortable conditions, visible outcomes, or the appearance of control.

Admit What Is True. Darkness is real, resistance is real, and rebellion can seek agreement inside us as easily as opposition can attack from outside us.

Name What God Has Made Clear. Identify the instruction that remains true even after the interruption. In that room, the instruction was simple: keep praying.

Go Before Fear Leaves. Do not wait for every light to come back on before obeying what God said in the dark.

Endure the Dangerous Middle. Stay submitted during the fifteen minutes between the pop and the return of power, when the conditions still appear to favor darkness.

Record and Release the Testimony. Turn the attempted interruption into evidence that darkness changed the room but could not cancel the assignment.

Earlier today, I posted Dangerous to Darkness. I understand the phrase differently than I did when I hit publish. A surrendered man is not dangerous because darkness never comes near him. He is dangerous because when darkness comes, it cannot make him stop praying, surrender his peace, abandon his assignment, or rebel against the God he belongs to.

The lights went out.

The Light remained.

The prayer continued.

The message was finished.

And now the attack has become another testimony.

The enemy tried to bring darkness into the room. All he did was show us how brightly surrender shines.

Scripture to Carry

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” — John 1:5

“For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft.” — 1 Samuel 15:23 KJV

“Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.” — Matthew 6:10 KJV

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” — Matthew 6:13 KJV

“Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.” — James 4:7

“Our struggle is not against flesh and blood.” — Ephesians 6:12

“Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” — John 8:12

A Short Prayer

Our Father in heaven, hallowed be Your name. Let Your Kingdom come and Your will be done in me, in my family, in my church, and in every room darkness attempts to enter. Expose every place where rebellion still seeks my agreement, and bring my plans, fear, timing, and desired outcomes fully under Your authority. Give me what I need for today. Teach me to forgive as You have forgiven me. Lead me away from every temptation to panic, control, delay, or abandon the assignment, and deliver me from evil. When conditions change and the lights go out, keep me steady, submitted, peaceful, and immediate in obedience. Teach me to keep praying in the dark and finish every message You have entrusted to me. Yours is the Kingdom, the power, and the glory forever. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Listen

“Chain Breaker” — Zach Williams
This song fits the moment because rebellion, witchcraft, fear, and deception all depend on chains of agreement. It describes recurring deception, worn-out patterns, and the empty substitutes people use to fill what only God can restore. Jesus does not merely make those chains more comfortable; He breaks them. The bridge calls anyone who has experienced that freedom to testify, which is exactly what this Field Note does: it takes an attempted attack and releases the story as evidence that darkness did not win.

The song’s simplest declaration carries the heart of the message: “He’s a chain breaker.” The church kept praying because our freedom did not depend on the lights. The Light was already present, the Kingdom still had authority, and the One who breaks chains was not interrupted by the blackout.