Beating Sin

The Dragon Within, The Saint in You: Answering the Call to Conquer Sin

There is a story as old as time, etched into the stone of our cathedrals and whispered in the oldest of myths. It is the story of a hero and a monster, a celestial warrior and a primordial beast. The warrior, often clad in light, stands defiant. The monster, a serpent of unimaginable scale and malice, coiled and ready to strike. This is the story of St. Michael and the Dragon.

But I am not here today to tell you an ancient tale. I am here to tell you that this story is your story. It is my story. It is the story of every human soul that has ever drawn breath.

That dragon is real. Its scales are not made of myth, but of the moments we have faltered. Its fire is not fantastical, but the very real burn of shame, regret, and anger that scorches our hearts. That dragon has a name: Sin. And we, you and I, are not meant to cower in its shadow. We are here, right now, in this very moment, to be St. Michael. We are here to beat the dragon.

This is not a call to religious zealotry or self-flagellation. This is a call to the highest form of courage: the courage to face the darkness within and to reclaim the light that is our birthright. It is the most heroic journey you will ever undertake, and it begins with a single, terrifying, and liberating question: What is the shape of your dragon?

Unmasking the Beast: The Nature of Our Sin

We often diminish sin, boxing it into a neat list of misdemeanors or moral failings. We see it as a series of "don'ts" or a tally of mistakes. This is a profound and dangerous misunderstanding. Sin is not merely an action; it is a force. It is a pervasive, corrosive energy that seeks to distort, diminish, and ultimately, destroy.

Think of it in its draconic form.

The dragon’s scales are the lies we tell ourselves. "You're not good enough." "You'll never change." "No one will ever forgive you." "Just this one more time won't hurt." Each lie is a hardened plate of armor, making the beast impenetrable to reason and self-compassion. The more we believe them, the more invincible the dragon becomes.

Its fiery breath is the poison it spews into our lives and the lives of others. It is the flash of uncontrolled anger that burns a bridge with a loved one. It is the corrosive flame of envy that turns another’s success into our own misery. It is the lingering heartburn of bitterness that keeps us chained to a past we cannot change.

Its hoard is not gold, but something far more heavy—the treasure it guards is our shame. It sits upon a mountain of our deepest regrets, our secret failures, and our most profound moments of weakness. It dares us to come and claim them, knowing that to do so is to be crushed by their weight.

And its grip is the most terrifying aspect of all. It is the tight, constricting coil of addiction, the suffocating embrace of pride, the cold clutch of greed, and the numbing hold of apathy. It whispers that its grip is safety, that its prison is comfort, and that to be free is to be vulnerable and alone.

The great Christian apologist C.S. Lewis wrote something that illuminates this perfectly:

"Evil is a parasite. It is not a original thing. It is, for him, only a 'bad copy' of what was a good thing to begin with. Goodness is, so to speak, itself: badness is only spoiled goodness...To be bad, he must exist and have intelligence and will. But evil has, in the long run, no positive nature; it is simply the absence of good."

Sin is not a creative force. It is a parasite on our goodness. It takes our capacity for love and twists it into obsession. It takes our desire for justice and warps it into vengeance. It takes our need for self-worth and contorts it into arrogant pride. The dragon’s power is not its own; it is the reflected and distorted power of your own beautiful, God-given humanity. And this is why the battle must be yours. Only the original owner of the goodness can reclaim it from the parasite that feeds upon it.

The Archangel's Blueprint: The Spirit of St. Michael

If the dragon is the personification of our inner chaos, then St. Michael is the archetype of our sacred purpose. Who is this warrior that we are called to emulate? He is not depicted as a brutish brawler, fueled by mindless rage. He is the embodiment of a different kind of strength—a strength rooted in clarity, principle, and unwavering resolve.

His name, Michael, translates from Hebrew to a question: "Who is like God?" This is not a boast. It is a proclamation of alignment. His power does not come from himself, but from his unwavering dedication to a higher purpose, a higher good. He fights not for personal glory or the thrill of victory, but to protect, to restore order, and to defend the light.

This is the spirit we must cultivate. To be St. Michael in our own lives is to ask, "To what am I aligned? Am I aligned with the lie of the dragon, or the truth of my best self? Am I aligned with division, or with unity? Am I aligned with fear, or with love?"

The scriptures give us the quintessential image of this battle in the Book of Revelation:

“And there was war in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back. But he was not strong enough, and they lost their place in heaven.” (Revelation 12:7-8)

Notice the details. Michael leads others. He does not fight alone. The battle is "war" – it is a conflict, a struggle, not a single, easy blow. And the victory is not a massacre, but a casting out, a restoration of rightful order.

The spirit of St. Michael, therefore, is not about being perfect or fearless. It is about being resolved. It is the courage that comes from knowing you are fighting for something infinitely more valuable than your comfort. It is the clarity to see the true enemy—not your boss, not your spouse, not your circumstances, but the dragon of sin that seeks to poison your perception of them all. It is the humility to know your power comes from a source greater than your own ego, and the faith that in the end, light is more powerful than darkness.

Forging Your Armor: The Weapons of the Modern Warrior

A warrior is nothing without weapons. But our arsenal is not forged in a blacksmith’s fire; it is cultivated in the crucible of our daily choices. The dragon of sin is cunning, and we must be equally prepared. If you are to take up the role of St. Michael, you must forge and master the weapons of your own soul.

1. The Shield of Faith. In our modern, skeptical world, "faith" can be a loaded term. Let’s redefine it. The shield of faith is not blind belief. It is active, living trust. It is the trust that you can change. It is the trust that there is a path through the darkness. It is the trust that you are not defined by your worst mistakes. When the dragon spews the fire of shame ("You are a failure!"), you raise this shield and declare, "I trust in a future where I am healed. I trust in the possibility of forgiveness, from others and from myself." This shield deflects the fiery lies before they can sear your heart.

2. The Sword of Truth. A shield is defensive. A sword is for advancing. The sword of truth is the weapon of radical honesty. It requires you to step out of the fog of denial and name the beast. What is the sin, the pattern, the addiction that has you in its grip? Say its name aloud. Write it down. Confess it to a trusted friend or a therapist. The dragon thrives in the shadows of secrecy. Bringing it into the light of truth is the first and most powerful act of aggression against it. The renowned researcher Brené Brown speaks to the power of this vulnerability:

"Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it's having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome. Vulnerability is not weakness; it's our greatest measure of courage."

Your sword of truth is your courage to be seen, to be known, and to face the reality of your situation without flinching.

3. The Lance of Hope. A battle can be long and exhausting. Despair is the dragon's most potent ally; it convinces us the fight is futile and we should just lie down and be consumed. The lance of hope is our forward-looking weapon. It is the ability to envision a different future. It is not the naive wish that things will magically get better, but the determined vision of the person you are becoming. Hope is what gets you out of bed in the morning after a painful setback. It is the force that keeps you moving forward, even when the path is obscured by smoke and ash. It is the belief that the dragon can be wounded, that its grip can be loosened, and that a life of freedom is not just possible, but waiting for you on the other side of the battlefield.

4. The Armor of Community. No warrior fights alone, and you were not meant to. The dragon’s greatest strategy is to isolate you, to make you believe that no one could possibly understand your struggle. This is a lie. The "legions of angels" that fight alongside Michael are your community. They are the friend who will take your 2 a.m. phone call. They are the support group that shares your burden. They are the therapist who gives you tools and strategies. They are the family who loves you through your mess. Putting on this armor means having the humility to ask for help. It means choosing vulnerability over isolation. It means understanding that our individual strength is magnified a thousandfold when we are connected to others who are fighting their own battles alongside ours.

The Battlefield of the Heart: Where the War is Waged

The pictures in the galleries show St. Michael and the Dragon clashing in the heavens. But our battlefield is not in the sky. It is in the quiet, hidden landscape of our own hearts. It is in the milliseconds of choice between a kind word and a sharp one. It is in the decision to open a book instead of a browser tab. It is in the daily discipline of prayer, meditation, or simple silence when the dragon of anxiety screams for distraction.

This is a war of inches, not of grand, thunderous victories. Some days, you will land a decisive blow. You will resist a long-held temptation, and you will feel the rush of freedom. Other days, the dragon will score a hit. You will fall into an old pattern, you will speak a word you regret, you will feel the familiar weight of the hoard of shame settling back onto your shoulders.

On those days, the warrior spirit is not measured by a flawless victory, but by the courage to stand back up.

The wound is not the end. The 13th-century poet Rumi offered a profound insight into the nature of our struggles:

"The wound is the place where the Light enters you."

Every scar you receive in this battle is a testament to a fight you were willing to wage. It is a reminder of your humanity and your capacity for resilience. The goal is not to become an unfeeling, unscarred superhuman. The goal is to become a wise, compassionate, and integrated warrior who has faced the abyss and refused to be consumed by it. The battle makes you stronger, deeper, and more capable of profound love—for yourself and for others. Your victories, however small, inspire others. Your struggles, when shared, create connection. Your scars tell a story of survival and hope.

Why We Fight: The Victor’s Crown

Why engage in this exhausting, terrifying, and lifelong battle? Why not simply make peace with the dragon, learn to live in its lair, and hope for the best?

Because to do so is to live a half-life. To make peace with the dragon is to surrender your potential. It is to accept the distortion as reality. It is to live in the shadow when you were created for the sun.

The victory we seek is not a dragon’s head hung on a wall. The victory is what is born in the space the dragon once occupied. When the beast is cast out, its corrosive fire is replaced by the warmth of true joy. Its heavy hoard of shame is replaced by the lightness of grace. Its isolating grip is replaced by the freedom of authentic connection.

To beat the dragon is to become fully yourself. It is to align with the best version of who you were created to be. It is to look in the mirror and see not a failure, but a warrior. It is to offer your unique gifts to the world, no longer hoarded or hidden by fear. This is the victor’s crown: not of gold, but of peace, purpose, and an unshakeable inner freedom.

St. Augustine of Hippo, a man who knew his own dragons intimately, wrote a prayer that serves as the perfect anthem for every warrior on this path:

“Late have I loved you, O Beauty so ancient and so new, late have I loved you! ... You were within me, and I was in the world outside myself. I searched for you out there... You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness.”

The fight is the process of breaking through our own deafness, of dispelling our own blindness, so that we can finally love and be loved by the Goodness that was within us all along. The dragon is real. The battle is now. The hero you are called to be is waiting.

Look for your dragon. Name it. Face it. And with the spirit of St. Michael—the warrior of truth, faith, and hope—raise your sword. There is a victory waiting to be won. It is yours for the taking.