“There is no condemnation for Caiaphas, for Pilate or Antipas. They are all forgiven, Accuser.”
“And what of Judas the Iscariot?” The Accuser was shouting now. “Is the one who betrayed you to death forgiven too?”
Sadness crept into Jesus’ eyes, and he stepped toward the Accuser. “I wish Judas had not lost faith. His reconciliation would have been beautiful. But I do not condemn Judas. He too is forgiven. They are all forgiven, Accuser.”
“You cannot do this.”
At this, joy once again glowed through The Name’s countenance, and his smile beamed. “Indeed. It is impossible to forgive humanity their sin. Their good fortune, then, that I am the Most High, who is not constrained by such small words as possible or sin. One sacrifice for all time. An infinite ransom redeemed. An invincible enemy run through with his own sword.
“It is finished, Accuser! Death has been defeated. All the powers of darkness converged on us and did their worst, and it was not enough. Even now, the world is being set right. Jesus is only the first fruits. Soon the whole of creation will be just as it was in the beginning. Remember those first days, when you were not Accuser, but Storyteller? Those days have come again. It is time for you to lay down condemnation.”
The Name’s mischievous joy fed the Accuser’s rage. “Lay down condemnation?! From the first, the humans have gone their own way. They murder, rape, and oppress. They build palaces of sand that they might proclaim themselves kings of the brief moments they call life. How long after you gave them your Way did they wait to disobey you? Was it a month before Aaron fashioned an idol for them? How often did they beg to return to Egypt and put their chains back on themselves? How quickly did they forget their judges? How quickly did their kings rush into the arms of other gods? How many prophets did they murder?
“And when you came to them yourself, they abandoned you, denied you, schemed against you, crucified you. They want nothing to do with you. They are prodigal with your love. They waste your blessing. They ignore your provision. They are unworthy of your grace.
“Humanity stands before you condemned. Summon the Strength! Let the Incomparable lead the armies of heaven to avenge you. Let us show the world your power. Let us make you glorious!”
Jesus raised a hand to stop him. “Enough, Accuser. There is no condemnation. Those who stand in judgment are there because they choose darkness rather than light. But the gates will not be closed to them.”
In all the millennia that the Accuser had stood in the midst of the throne, in the very presence of The Name, he had never tried to end the audience. But now he turned, leaned away from the throne, and in an instant stood near the doors again. The other archangels and their hosts had arrived, and he saw the Strength and the Healer whispering together behind the Incomparable, who strode to confront him.
The Accuser shouted to be heard over the harmonious chanting of the Favored and the Burning. “Do you know The Name’s plan? To forgive humanity—they who destroyed his perfect creation, they who destroy each other daily! Do you know The Name would welcome them among us?”
The Incomparable gripped his arm, and the Accuser nearly winced. “Furl your wings, Accuser. We are all aware of what Jesus’ resurrection means. He has ascended to the throne as Lord of a new creation.” He squeezed harder, and now the Accuser did wince. “We are servants of The Name, as always.”
The Accuser would not back down. “We are servants of the Most High. But tell me, Incomparable, what kind of god forswears vengeance on those who disregard his laws? What kind of god allows his enemies to crucify him? What kind of god forgives those enemies? For an eternity past we have served The Name faithfully, without wavering, without misstep. And what is our reward?”
The Incomparable’s voice was iron. “Our reward is to serve The Name, to abide in his love for us and ours for him. As it has always been, so shall it always be. It is enough.”
“Do you not listen? The Name would forgive humanity. The Name would welcome into his presence those who have no regard for his Way. He would have them join us. We who serve. We who remain faithful. We who watch. But tell me: What do we see?
“I will tell you what I see. I, the Accuser, who was tasked in Eden to walk among Adam’s children and record their failings—I offer no succor, Healer. I do not defend the innocent, Strength. I do not stand in heaven, Incomparable. I walk in the mud. I note each sin, every misstep. I hear every lie. I record every broken vow. I describe every murder, every rape. I see each act of oppression, each abuse of power.
“No one knows the wickedness of humanity as I do. They do not deserve forgiveness. They deserve what The Name himself tasked me to dispense: condemnation, judgment, justice.”
The Incomparable cut him off. “You forget yourself, Accuser. You are to accuse no more. Once they stand condemned, it is for The Name to dispense justice as he sees fit.”
The Accuser shook free and shouted to the whole throne room, “This is not justice. The Name allows them to trample his holiness in the dirt, to put it on a cross and destroy it. Now he would welcome them among us as equals? No, as more than equals, as favored sons and daughters! Will you kneel to them, Incomparable? What of you, Strength?
“Will you bow and scrape and serve they who prove their unworthiness with every breath? Will you serve the very creatures who would tear down heaven and crucify their creator? I will not.” The Accuser swept his arm to encompass the great throne room of heaven. “I will not allow The Name to destroy all this for the sake of his love for these rebellious children.”
The Incomparable squared his stance. “You will not allow?” His voice had a sharp edge.
The Accuser turned toward the throne. “The Name stands condemned. His love for humanity betrays us all.” He drew his sword. “To me, my legion!”
The Accuser charged the throne, his hosts at his back.
And war broke out in heaven; Michael and his angels fought against the dragon. The dragon and his angels fought back, but they were defeated, and there was no longer any place for them in heaven. . . .
Rejoice then, you heavens
and those who dwell in them!
But woe to the earth and the sea,
for the devil has come down to you
with great wrath,
because he knows that his time is short!
(Revelation 12:7-8, 12)
14
Running with the Devil
On Devils, Older Brothers, and Pharisees Then and Now
To be an older brother is to live in a near-constant state of righteous indignation. Once when I was around thirteen years old, I was watching TV on the couch. For reasons clear only to the inscrutable logic of younger siblings, my younger brother entered the living room and stood directly between me and the TV, facing me with a mischievous smile. Not one to escalate a sibling disagreement unnecessarily—especially with a parent in the house—I offered a kind, measured response. “Please move.”
My brother stood silent, his Cheshire smile unchanged.
“Please move. You’re blocking my view.”
Silence. His smile mocked me.
“Okay. I’m going to count to five. If you haven’t moved, I’m going to punch you.” I had exhausted all peaceful options in my adolescent brain. It was time to go nuclear.
“One.” His posture didn’t even shift.
“Two.” Was that a glint in his eye?
“Three.” What is his game here?
“Four.” He must want to get punched. How else to explain this?1
I let out a deep sigh. This was going to hurt him a lot more than it hurt me. “Five.”
I stood up, walked toward him, and punched him in the stomach. Immediately he let out a bloodcurdling shriek that brought my mom running from whatever she was doing. Of course, I was punished while my brother escaped with nothing more than an exasperated warning.
Elder siblings struggle with grace. We love it when we’re on the receiving end, but it’s difficult to convince us t
hat grace is evenly distributed in a household with younger siblings. It’s not so different in the church, where older—and allegedly more mature—Christians often struggle to celebrate when those new to the church or those outside the church receive grace. As a result, too often we are grumpy, cruel, or disenchanted with our own faith. We drift far from our first love and the white-hot passion of the grace that saved us.
Can an elder sibling be convinced that grace is a good thing? This is the question Satan invites us to ask.
THE DEVIL’S (NOT) IN THE DETAILS
I was speaking with a group of pastors once about how to do outreach for young people. We were discussing the merits of bringing in a contemporary worship band for a concert. In response, one of the pastors asked, “If rock music summons demons, why should I have a rock band in my church?”
Fortunately I am the product of an evangelical youth group from the early nineties, so this was not my first exposure to the idea that rock music is satanic. The pastor’s question stemmed from an iteration of Satan’s origin story, specifically that the being we now call Satan, Lucifer, and the devil was once the worship leader of heaven. Now that he has fallen, it stands to reason that he uses music to corrupt humanity. And bands like AC/DC, Queen, and Kansas use album art, lyrics, and backmasking to heighten the demonic activity initiated by beat of the rock ’n’ roll.2
Musical conspiracy theories aside, most beats of what I will call the Lucifer myth are familiar: Lucifer was an archangel who decided he should rule heaven instead of God. He waged war and was cast out of heaven into hell. Now he is the devil, also called Satan, who tempts humanity to lead as many away from God as possible.
The problem is that big pieces of this story—including the name Lucifer—aren’t anywhere in the Bible. Other important statements about Satan that are in the Bible—including the timeline of his fall—are ignored. If we start with what the Bible explicitly says about Satan, a different picture emerges. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t have much to do with rock music.
Versions of the Lucifer myth as outlined above are recognizable as early as Origen, a church father who lived in Alexandria, Egypt, around 200 CE. The Alexandrian fathers popularized allegorical biblical interpretation. We could spend pages on allegorical interpretation, but it suffices to say the Alexandrian fathers did not concern themselves with historical context.
Origen identified the devil as the serpent in Genesis—one of the first Christian writers to do so. He also identified the devil as the angel of death in Egypt, Azazel in Leviticus 16, and Satan in Job. Origen’s identification of both the prince of Babylon in Isaiah 14 and the king of Tyre in Ezekiel 28 have become the cornerstone texts for the Lucifer myth, along with Revelation 12.3 Careful readings of these passages illuminates where various pieces of the Lucifer myth originated and why using them to talk about Satan should give us pause.4
The name Lucifer comes to us from Isaiah 14. The prophet is speaking against the prince of Babylon, whom he identifies as the “Day Star” and “son of Dawn.” The Day Star is the planet Venus, which often appears at dawn and is the brightest object in the sky other than the sun and moon. When Jerome translated Isaiah into Latin, he rendered “Day Star” as the Latin word Lucifer, which means “light-bringer.” The translators of the King James Version worked not from Greek and Hebrew texts, but from the Latin. The translators left the word Lucifer in the text, treating it as a proper name, so the devil got a new name.
This son of Dawn was thought to ascend to heaven to rule in God’s place but instead has been cast down into “the Pit.” It sure sounds like the Lucifer story, but the prophet is using poetic language to describe the Babylonian Empire’s arrogance. Without already assuming the Lucifer myth, it’s not immediately obvious that Isaiah 14 has anything to do with Satan. Though some church fathers, following Origen’s lead, choose to read the prophecy as multilayered, many others, including both Luther and Calvin, are adamant that the passage has nothing to do with the devil.5
The same is true of the other passage popularly assumed to inform Lucifer’s story, Ezekiel 28:12-19. Using typological language that would have been familiar to the ears of his listeners, Ezekiel cast another monarch—the king of Tyre—as Adam walking in Eden. Like our first father, this king proved unfaithful and therefore deserving of the judgment God unleashed. Again, there is no supernatural being. Ezekiel does at least feature primordial history, but Adam in Eden is typological language utilized to comment on a contemporary figure. No devil here either.6
The clearest accounting of Satan’s fall is Revelation 12:7-9:
And war broke out in heaven; Michael and his angels fought against the dragon. The dragon and his angels fought back, but they were defeated, and there was no longer any place for them in heaven. The great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him.
Here Satan is pictured as a dragon, called “that ancient serpent” and “the Devil.”7 And there is a war in heaven. Satan even takes a third of the angels with him when he’s cast down.
But when did this happen? Did it really happen before the earth was created, as the Lucifer story insists? Not according to Revelation 12. The first six verses tell the story of a woman who is both Mary and Israel—she is crowned with twelve stars—who gives birth to a son. Lest we’re confused as to the identity of this child, the Revelator attaches a messianic psalm to his birth. This is Jesus.
The dragon threatened Jesus, but before it could consume him, Jesus was “snatched away and taken to God and to his throne” (Revelation 12:5). The whole of Jesus’ incarnation, death, and resurrection is wrapped up in the space between words. Jesus was born, and then he was caught up into heaven.
And then the war broke out. According to Revelation, Satan’s war was triggered by Jesus’ ascension to the throne of heaven. (More on this in a moment.)
Part of our struggle is that we want human answers to cosmic questions.8 Revelation, for instance, is not a biography of Satan. It is about the seven churches of Asia remaining faithful to God in the midst of an unfaithful culture. The Revelator arranges Satan’s story (and his relationship to Rome) specifically to serve that purpose.
None of the texts that inform the Lucifer myth tell the story of an angel who rebelled against God before creation began. The only way to find that story in the Bible is to go looking for it—and to read verses out of context. Fortunately the Bible does talk about Satan. But if we focus on what the Bible does say, a different picture emerges.
LAW AND ORDER: HEAVEN
There are only three references to Satan in the Old Testament, and the first is not in Genesis. Though many readers assume the talking serpent in Genesis 3 is the devil incarnate, Genesis itself treats the animal not as a divine being but as a talking animal.9
Lucifer does not appear at all, and the word devil is not used until the New Testament. The Old Testament is rife with demons and pagan gods, but there is no chief fallen angel. We do find, however, a figure named Satan, who appears in the early chapters of Job, Zechariah, and—most troubling—in 1 Chronicles. Satan is a Hebrew word that means “accuser.”10 This is a title, a role fulfilled in ancient Near Eastern royal courts and roughly analogous to our prosecuting attorney today. The accuser represented the state (that is, the king) in legal proceedings. With that in mind (and leaving the Lucifer myth out of it), these three texts offer a very different picture of Satan’s identity and role.
1 Chronicles. “Satan stood up against Israel, and incited David to count the people of Israel” (1 Chronicles 21:1). This text seems pretty straightforward. Satan incited David to sin, which is exactly what we expect from Satan. The problem is that both books of Chronicles are a recap of the story of Israel found in 1 Samuel through 2 Kings. The original version of this story is in 2 Samuel 24. Brace yourself; it’s a little bit different: “The anger of the LORD was kindled against Israel, and he i
ncited David against them, saying, ‘Go, count the people of Israel and Judah’” (2 Samuel 24:1).
In the original version of the story, it’s not Satan but God who incited David to sin. When the author of Chronicles retold the story, he changed God to Satan. That’s quite an oversight. It’s one thing to mix up Hitler and Stalin and something else to confuse either of them with Mother Teresa. (How did his editor not catch that?)
There is another possibility: that the author of Chronicles did not see Satan as an adversary of God but as a functionary of God’s divine court. If Satan worked for God, so to speak, and if Satan were responsible for testing humanity on behalf of God, then 1 Chronicles could be true, because Satan tested David. And 2 Samuel could be true, because as divine king, God is ultimately responsible for the actions of the divine court.
Zechariah and Job. In Zechariah 3, the prophet receives a vision of Joshua, the high priest of Israel. The vision is one of redemption:
Then he showed me the high priest Joshua standing before the angel of the LORD, and Satan standing at his right hand to accuse him. And the LORD said to Satan, “The LORD rebuke you, O Satan! The LORD who has chosen Jerusalem rebuke you! Is not this man a brand plucked from the fire?” Now Joshua was dressed with filthy clothes as he stood before the angel. The angel said to those who were standing before him, “Take off his filthy clothes.” And to him he said, “See, I have taken your guilt away from you, and I will clothe you with festal apparel.” (Zechariah 3:1-4)
Here Satan is fulfilling the role of the accuser. He stands in the heavenly court, ready to declare Joshua’s guilt—and by extension all of Israel. But instead God rebukes him—and God offers forgiveness and redemption instead.
Empathy for the Devil Page 17