Devil

There is an apparent contradiction in the Gospel portrayal of Satan.

At one point, through Peter, Jesus is urged not to go toward suffering and crucifixion. Jesus reacts with extraordinary severity: “Get behind me, Satan.”

Later, through Judas, the process leading directly to the crucifixion is set in motion.

At first glance the two actions seem opposite.

First Satan appears to resist the cross.

Then Satan appears to produce it.

Satan is commonly portrayed in Christianity as first and foremost the enemy of God: a cosmic rebel whose hatred of humanity is merely an extension of a deeper war against the Creator. Yet this familiar picture is much clearer in later Christian imagination than it is in Scripture itself. When the biblical texts are read directly, Satan certainly disobeys God, challenges divine judgments and acts contrary to God's purposes. But the actual objects of his hostility are consistently human beings.

The distinction is important:

One of the most enduring questions in religion is why the righteous often seem to suffer the most.

The obvious answer to many appears self-evident: it is because by doing good they naturally fell under the Satan's radar who then initiated the suffering.

Yet Scripture repeatedly presents a different sequence of events.

This difference is subtle, much like a physiological fact that is easily misunderstood.

The previous essay argued that Scripture portrays Satan's activity as exhibiting the constancy of a force rather than the development of an intellect. This conclusion has another important implication.

If Satan is not an intellectual mastermind driven by vanity, then one of the most familiar ideas inherited from Christian folklore must also be re-examined: the belief that Satan desires to be worshipped in the same way that God is worshipped.

One of the most persistent assumptions in popular Christianity is that Satan is an intellectual being comparable to a human mind, only vastly more cunning and more evil. Entire traditions have been built upon this image. People speak of making pacts with Satan, negotiating with him, outsmarting him, or engaging him in a battle of wits. Literature, folklore, and modern culture have reinforced this picture until it has become almost self-evident to many believers.

Yet when we return to Scripture itself, a different picture begins to emerge.

Every practical approach must begin with a foundation. If the foundation is wrong, everything built upon it will eventually collapse. My entire understanding of demons rests upon one principle that may initially sound strange, perhaps even offensive:

The problem of demonic affliction belongs foremost to the exorcist.

In the previous two essays, I argued that the Parable of the Rich Fool is often misunderstood.

First, the story is not merely about wealth. It begins with an inheritance dispute and exposes the folly of accumulating possessions without properly considering mortality and succession. The rich man solves the problem of storage while ignoring the problem of inheritance.

Second, the famous words:

“You fool!”

There is a simple but demanding starting point: we do not actually know what demons are in any mechanistic sense. Scripture affirms their reality, but it does not provide a technical “microscope” for their nature. Attempts to build detailed theories from encounters tend to circle back on themselves, reinforcing what the interpreter already believes. If that is so, then progress begins not by multiplying explanations, but by clearing them—refusing to treat demonic encounters as a source of new, objective knowledge about demons themselves.

There is a peculiar moment in the Gospel of John where, after Satan enters Judas, Jesus says: “What you are going to do, do quickly.” These words are often treated as a gesture of acceptance or inevitability. But that reading misses the functional nature of the statement. Jesus is not describing what will happen. He is intervening in how it will happen.

To understand this, we must begin with a simple observation: satanic action, as presented in Scripture, is not chaotic. It unfolds according to a procedure.

A formidable enemy, and a losing strategy

The Devil is not a trivial opponent. He is not defeated by cleverness, nor by moral self-improvement alone. When calamity strikes—when life collapses in ways that seem targeted, layered, and relentless—people instinctively reach for what feels like the right response: a plea based on righteousness.

They protest. They argue. They appeal.

They say, in one way or another: this should not be happening to me.

But this is precisely where the mistake begins.