he said, “I think it is fairly common knowledge that Satan hates any kind of praising or worshipping of God. He can’t be in the presence of it.”
“So, what you are saying is that when your church starts praising God, Satan has no choice but to flee?”
“That’s right,” he answered.
“Well, and I hope you will pardon my inability to catch on, but if that’s the case, what was he still doing there halfway through the service?”
“Come again?”
“The CD,” I reminded him, “didn’t start skipping until halfway through the service, so I’m wondering why Satan was still there.”
“Well, now son,” he said with more than a touch of condescension, “I think you’re taking this all a bit too literally.”
Sensing the blossoming enmity occurring in our conversation, I responded, “I admit to not knowing the difference between taking something literally and taking something ‘too literally,’ I’m not entirely sure what that means, but that’s beside the point. Are you telling me you don’t believe in the existence of Satan?”
“Of course, I do,” he said. “You can’t be a Christian and not believe in Satan.”
That is a very fascinating theological claim. I was always under the impression it had more to do with Jesus, but before I could ask him about it he said, “That’s the first trick of Satan, you know?”
Oh, how I know. This will be the gazillionth time I’ve been told, “The first trick of the Devil is to convince you he doesn’t exist.” I can already tell that this is going to be an ongoing struggle I will have to face throughout my research.
“Yeah, that’s what I keep hearing,” I responded. “But back to what you said about me taking things literally. I’m a little confused because you said that part of Satan’s punishment is to be forced to listen to Christians sing, yet when Satan hears God being praised he has to flee, so I’m not sure how to reconcile that conundrum . . . and then the whole thing with the CD.”
“Right, so yes,” he replied in what was quickly becoming a frustrated tone. “Satan is being punished yet attempts to escape his punishment through either distracting us from our worship services or, if that fails, fleeing, but, you know, at the same time, everything that happens, or every little thing that goes wrong, doesn’t necessarily mean Satan is responsible.”
“Oh. That’s strange, because when the CD started skipping you attributed it to Satan. Was that a moment utilized in the service of metaphor or were you speaking literally? Because it seemed like the congregation understood it quite literally.”
“Well, yes,” he confessed, “it was Satan trying to disrupt our service.”
“You really attribute a scratch on a CD to Satan?”3
“Of course not,” he said. “But Satan definitely attempts to thwart our plans to serve God. That’s what Satan does.”
“I’m confused. Please forgive me for pushing this issue, but did Satan scratch the CD or not?”
“No, now look,” he said, growing exhausted by this line of questioning. “We don’t even know if it was a scratch. Who said it was scratched? There could of have been any number of reasons why the CD was skipping.”
“But any number of those reasons,” I kept pushing, “could be, ultimately, traced back to Satan?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
He was looking at his watch as if to let me know our time together was coming to a close. I knew I was losing him, and despite wanting him to clarify his rather conflicting responses, I elected to go all in while he was still with me.
“Do you think I could meet him?”
At this point, he was overtaken with annoyance. He asked if this whole conversation was a joke and if this was just a game academicians play with those who do the “real work” of making disciples.
I tried to convince him it was not my intention to play games. I told him I was only trying to make sense out of what I experienced in his service. “As a pastor,” I said, “you should be anxious to answer these questions. Paul tells us to be prepared to answer—”
“I know what Paul says,” he interrupted, “but I seriously doubt he had in mind Christians wanting to have a meeting with Satan. I’m pretty sure he would think that indicative of a much larger problem.”
“Yeah, that’s probably true,” I conceded.
I actually appreciated being called out on that point. That was him being a good pastor.
“But, when I asked you about meeting Satan I didn’t necessarily assume you exercised such power or control, it was more of a rhetorical way of . . . well, I guess you can say that I’m just very fascinated with your ability to know and feel the presence of Satan in your church, because I couldn’t. I would not have had any idea that Satan was here today had you not informed us. Therefore, I assume you have some kind of connection that I presently lack and I was just wondering how I could make such a connection. I mean, apparently that’s not a bad thing, because if it were a bad thing then you yourself would not have the connection. But you do, and I feel like I don’t. So, I’m asking for an ‘in.’”
The only “in” I received was the “end” of our conversation.
He abruptly cut me off and told me he was late for lunch or a committee meeting or something. He also said something about his knowing better than to attempt to have a conversation with someone like me whose only purpose was to tear down and not edify, which, by the way, I find patently false. I am all about edification. I’m just opposed to the kind of edification that one cannot, under a simple line of questioning, articulate and defend. It makes us look bad. The least we should be able to do is tolerate a few questions of clarification. All I was asking is that if he can feel the presence of the Devil in his services could he tell me how, so that I could better relay this information to others in order to lead more people to God? I know, I know. I’m sure that sounds messed up—attempting to encounter Satan in order to grow closer to God.
I bet they don’t teach that in seminary.
Unfortunately, the more I delve into this project the more I realize that a prerequisite to knowing Satan may be knowing God. Maybe Tommy was right. Maybe Satan only comes with the whole belief-in-God package. In that respect, perhaps we are safer not knowing God. At least then we cannot come under Satan’s influence. But if that’s true, it only reconfirms the intelligibility of this experiment, because it means that in knowing Satan, I also open myself up to the possibility of knowing God, right?
Right?
Maybe.
Decapitated Chickens . . . It’s a Metaphor
It was the Christians who gave the Devil almost the presence of a god.
—Richard Cavendish
One of my professors at Trevecca Nazarene University once stated, “Evangelicals seem to always be in desperate need of an enemy.” I take this to refer to their penchant for being defined more by what they are against
