Facing your Balrog

"A balrog. A demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you. Run!" -GANDALF

"I am a servant of the secret fire, wielder of the flame of Anor! Dark fire shall not avail you, flame of Udun!
Go back to the shadow from where you came from! You shall not pass!"
~Gandalf

Often it's our battle with our greatest demons that transforms us into the person we are called to become. Like in the LOTR and how Gandalf the gray turned into Gandalf the white after and through, his mythic battle with the ominous Balrog on the bridge of Khazâd-dûm. He was changed from glory to glory through his battle and death. Are you facing a personal Balrog right now? I know I am and it is changing me...

"Something was coming up behind them. What it was could not be seen: it was like a great shadow, in the middle of which a dark form, of man-shape maybe, yet greater; and a power and terror seemed to be in it and to go before it.

It came to the edge of the fire and the light faded as if a cloud had bent over it. Then with a rush it leaped across the fissure. The flames roared up to greet it, and wreathed about it; and a black smoke swirled in the air. Its streaming mane kindled, and blazed behind it. In its right hand was a blade like a stabbing tongue of fire; in its left it held a whip of many thongs."

"The Balrog reached the bridge. Gandalf stood in the middle of the span, leaning on the staff in his left hand, but in his other hand Glamdring gleamed, cold and white. His enemy halted again, facing him, and the shadow about it reached out like two vast wings. It raised the whip, and the thongs whined and cracked. Fire came from its nostrils. But Gandalf stood firm.

'You cannot pass,' he said. The Orcs stood still, and a dead silence fell. 'I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail yoiu, flame of Udûdun. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass.'

The Balrog made no answer. The fire in it seemed to die, but the darkness grew. It stepped forward slowly on the bridge, and suddenly it drew himself up to a great height, and its wings were spread from wall to wall; but still Gandalf could be seen, glimmering in the gloom; he seemed small, and altogether alone: grey and bent, like a wizened tree before the onset of a storm.
From out of the shadow a red sword leaped flaming.
Glamdring glittered white in answer.
There was a ringing clash and a stab of white fire..." -LOTR (Tolkien)