Whether it is liberals or conservatives, Christians or pagans, anarchists or theocrats, Duke fans and everyone else, the tendency to be defined more by what you are against than what you are for is always tantalizing. In terms of Satan, I think it very well may be the tendency of many Christians to fall prey to this sort of trap. This was not only obvious during much of my upbringing, and I believe in some regards to the previous conversation, but also in my university setting. Granted, many students who attended Trevecca while I was there came from very pious Nazarene backgrounds, so it was hardly surprising to find students who had never been to a movie, a concert (except for the horror of “Carman”), went dancing, or smoked a cigarette. These latter two activities I can only assume were created by the Devil since engaging in them landed you either a fine or placed on social probation.
This tendency to be defined by what you are against was regularly reinforced by the school’s choice of speakers in their mandatory chapel services. For instance, during my first year at Trevecca we had a revivalist come to our school for a week. For many students, revivals provided the opportunity to rekindle that fire with God so vital to Christian discipleship. For some of us religion majors, revivals were an opportunity for us to dissect and analyze the content of the preacher. This was, in a sense, part of our training, and I was happy to put my newly apprenticed skills to work. I was excited about attending this revival. I wasn’t excited because I thought I was going to experience that Nazarene holy grail known as entire sanctification; I had other reasons. You see, there was a bit of controversy before it even began. Prior to the arrival of the evangelist, a number of his intercessory crew showed up at our chapel in order to exorcize the demons in residence.
I kid you not.
That’s a true story.
Such activity did not bode well with many at our school, including a large number of our faculty. After all, how could we not take offence at the idea that our chapel, where services were dedicated to the praise of the triune God, was host to a legion of demons? The very idea that our holy space harbored fallen angels was an affront to many within our school. For me, however, it was a time of great excitement. Whatever was going to happen, it was bound to be interesting.
And interesting it was. During the first service one of the evangelist’s intercessors sat in the front row chanting “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.” He did this the entire time.
I mean, the entire time.
As he did, I tried to keep count, but I couldn’t keep up. It wounded my brain to even try. One funny thing did come out of it though: a friend of mine, an older religion major whose focus was the Hebrew Bible, had the good sense to follow up with an occasional, “Moses, Moses, Moses.”
Who said Nazarenes were bereft of humor?
We were later told that the recitation of “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus” was this person’s mantra meant to keep the evangelist safe from demonic intervention.
“I thought they already prayed the demons out of here?” I queried.
One of my professors, who I knew secretly thought this all a pompous show, looked at me as if to say, “Tripp, you’re not helping things.”
We were informed by his intercessory crew that this particular evangelist was so in tune with the workings of the Holy Spirit that he was often a primary target for demonic attack.
I know, that just doesn’t make sense, right? Though it did make me sort of glad to be a half-ass Christian. If getting close to God makes you more susceptible to Satan’s all-out arsenal, I think I will keep my distance (of course, here I am now trying to get a closer look, so take that as you will).
Apparently, this revivalist was sort of like a religious Dean and Sam Winchester. You know those guys from the television show Supernatural? They go around hunting demons, ghosts, and all sorts of angry spirits in order to save the bodies and souls of their fellow humans. Instead of using shotguns filled with salt and Latin incantations, this evangelist spent most of his time preaching out of the Gospel of Matthew (chosen due to its large number of references to demons), and having his crew say Jesus’ name over and over and over again.
“How many times do you have to say the name ‘Jesus’ before they leave? Is there a magical number that you have to hit before they listen to you?” I asked.
Despite a number of my friends finding my questions humorous (though that was not my intention, I truly was seeking clarification), our guests were not quite as pleased with the sacrilege coming out of my mouth.
Before they could scold me, I quickly added, “Plus, I thought the battle had already been won.”
“It has been won,” stated one of his spiritual warfare henchmen. “But Satan is like a chicken with its head cut off. It still flaps its wings around the yard with the ability to hurt others with its thrashing talons, not even knowing it’s doomed.”
Satan is like a decapitated chicken with thrashing talons.
You just can’t make that stuff up.
As entertaining as I found the entire situation to be, it created, for others, a profound impulse to look for Satan under every rock. During the following weeks I heard students blame everything on God’s fallen angel:
• “My car won’t start.” Must be Satan.
• “Cafeteria food here sucks.” Must be Satan.
• “Someone placed two big blue beach balls on top of the chapel under the steeple.” Must be Satan. (Actually, I have another theory as to the culprit.)
• “My boyfriend wants to have premarital sex.” Must be Satan.
• “My girlfriend doesn’t want to have premarital sex.” Must be Satan.
Well, maybe not that last one, but you get the picture. Satan gets the blame for everything. Now, I am not trying to say that if there really is an ontological personality known as Satan that this being is not responsible for some horrid things. But using Satan as an explanation for everything you personally do not like is not only theologically problematic, it is also terribly dangerous. It opens the door to the rampant demonization of other people despite Christianity’s claim that all humans, regardless of creed, race, nationality, gender, or faith tradition (or, lack thereof), are created in the image of God.
And yes, even evolutionists bear the imago Dei.
Satan Gives Birth on the Galapagos Islands (and Kirk Cameron Goes Bananas)
To say that the banana happened by accident is even more unintelligent than to say that no one designed the Coca Cola can.
—Kirk Cameron
Evolution is a bankrupt speculative philosophy, not a scientific fact.
Only a spiritually bankrupt society could ever believe it. Only atheists could accept this Satanic theory.
—Jimmy Swaggart
Normally, I do not take too seriously the words of actors who do not understand the process of cultivating edible fruit, or the words of televangelists who have sex with prostitutes and threaten to kill homosexuals. Yet, their commentary is fairly indicative of those within Christianity who believe evolution undermines the biblical narrative. Equating the teachings of Darwin with that of a sinister master-plan of Satan is by no means novel or rare. For many Christians, it is simply not enough to disbelieve in evolution; one has
