Posts Tagged ‘devil’

How Does the Devil Seduce?

Sunday, June 8th, 2008

I discovered an old interview with Father Gabriele Amorth on the internet concerning Satan and exorcism. It is an interesting article, but this particular piece near the end jumped out at me.

How does the Devil go about seducing men and women?

AMORTH: His strategy is monotonous. I have told him so and he admits it … He convinces people that there is no hell, that there is no sin, just one more experience to live. Lust, success and power are the three great passions on which the Devil insists.

I am reminded of Jesus’ three temptations in the desert, Luke 4:1-13.

“Command this stone to become bread” tempts Jesus to use his power to satisfy his desire. Disordered desires and wants are lusts.

All the kingdoms of this world would be given to Jesus if He worshiped Satan. This at first seems like a temptation to power, but it fits better with the idea of success. What do we give up in order to be successful, to be the best, to win? What do we worship, what do we idolize, what do we sell our soul for in attempts to be successful? How do I become fractured, less integrated, less whole, compromised, in an attempt to gain some thing?

Finally, Satan tries to get Jesus to put God to the test. That’s where the power comes in, to use God as if He was an object for our manipulation and control. Do we try to use and manipulate people for our own success and desires?

Notice what is hidden between the words of lust, success and power—pride. Did you also notice that all three are temporary? The devil has nothing to offer that is permanent or eternal, except spiritual death.

And what is the antidote to pride? Humility and love.

Know your enemy.

A Devil Free Moment

Tuesday, October 9th, 2007

From Br. Joseph —

There is a moment in each day that Satan cannot find. (William Blake)

I saw this quote the other day. My mind searched for a specific time or moment to label as “Satan free.” Was it in those precious few moments just after waking before the thoughts of the day rush in? Could it be the moment just before falling asleep? How about the time in prayer? When is this moment in the day that Satan cannot be found?

Maybe the answer is so obvious that it is overlooked all the time. Maybe the answer is now. Now, the present moment, is the moment Satan cannot find.

Many of the saints and mystics say that God can only be found in the present moment, in the now. The past is done and over, and the future is not yet. We exist now, the only time when we are truly free. Being is now, present tense, and God is being. God is eternally present to every when. Therefore, if God is now, Satan cannot be.

But that cannot be completely correct. Although we only make our choices in the present moment, there are times when we listen to the devil’s advice and choose to sin. Does that mean God is now and Satan is too? Does that mean there are no “Satan free” moments and the quote is wrong?

No, the saints are right, God is now and Satan is not. Satan must work outside of the present moment, and he does it by distracting us. He distracts us from living in the present moment, the only true reality, by tantalizing us with an illusion that appears better—the past and the future.

How often are we truly present to the now? How often are our minds somewhere else? Either we are planning, scheming, seeking, fantasizing, or rehearsing for some future that may or may not arrive, or we are mulling over memories of past glories or hurts? A thousand what-if’s from the past and toward the future pass before our minds each day and nearly none of them become reality. We carry around the memories and pain of old wrongs like heavy, old suitcases as if we would have nothing to our name if we left them behind. We are everywhere but here in the now.

And if we think a little more about it, does not most of our sins occur in the present moment in reaction to the past or from schemes set for the near future?

We let Satan steal our presence to the present moment. We buy into his illusion of trying to live in the past or the future in exchange for reality. We distract ourselves from the now and cheat ourselves out God’s gift to us, the present moment. (Maybe that is why “present” also means “gift”?)

Our Lady of Mercy, pray for us…

Gorging on Emotions

Saturday, September 1st, 2007

I don’t remember where I read it, but this one line has been stuck in my mind for the last few weeks. It was something along the lines of “gorging on emotions.” The idea of feeding upon my emotions is bothersome. It sounds self-cannibalistic. It sounds down right stupid (a word I use sparingly). I dislike the connotation of unhealthiness and its allusion to gluttony. But as I reflect on my certain moods, this line has a ring of truth. There are at times this reinforcing cycle of emotions and mood. Why do I feed on my emotions? And what or who do my emotions feed?

On one level, this reminds me of how C.S. Lewis describes the devils in The Screwtape Letters. They are ravenous creatures who seek out souls (and other weaker devils) to consume in order to attempt to satisfy temporarily the pangs of emptiness within. Do I gorge myself, or even politely dine at times, on my emotions just to fill some emptiness within?

On another level, this “gorging on emotions” reminds me of how I can easily distract and entertain myself with my own thoughts. Do I dwell and walk among my emotions just to entertain myself? Is it out of boredom? If it is for distraction, what am I distracting myself from?

Is it a matter of my emotions controlling me, or me controlling my emotions? Is this analogous to my thoughts controlling me or controlling my thoughts?

I don’t think it is about control, but of remembering which contains the other. Am I my emotions, or are my emotions a part of me? Am I my thinking, or is my thinking a part of me? I sometimes forget, in certain moods more often than others, that my thoughts and emotions are a part of me. They are not who I am. This seems especially hard to recognize with emotions because they are so closely connected to mood and attitude, and even thoughts.

I am made in the image of God, and God is not thoughts and emotions, therefore I am not thoughts and emotions. They are part of being human, gifts of being.

Just because I may feel sad does not mean that I am sad, that is, my being is sadness. The English language attempts to equate the two, my I-am-ness with sadness. To say that I am sadness contradicts and negates all the joy and happiness in my life, both now and in the past and future. The feelings of sadness are in the forefront of my attention, displacing but not eliminating the feelings of happiness.

Enough with semantics. What or who do my emotions feed? What or who benefits from this gorging? Where is the pay off (reinforcement)? It is the very thing I just described—my false self (as Thomas Merton would say), the egoic little me (as Eckhart Tolle would say). The false self—the preoccupation, attachment, and over-identification of self as my thoughts and emotions—is really an empty entity. It needs something to make itself feel real and important, and what better is there than emotions and “feelings”? The false self distorts the purpose of emotions as a part of being human into something else, into something to consume and temporarily fill the emptiness and nothingness of itself.

On the thin border
between faith and doubt walks Christ,
calling all to trust.

Only in Christ can one have complete and total trust. This means that I should not even place trust within myself, that is, my false egoic little me. Only Christ can feed. Only He can fill the emptiness within. My doubt lies not in Christ, but in letting go of myself, to let go of something that “feels” real but is really no-thing, and reach for Reality Himself.

Oh to dare to trust.

The Tail of the Snake

Wednesday, May 2nd, 2007

I was in the middle of the first part of a three-step prayer yesterday evening when my whinny little four-year suddenly bursted into my room and demanded he needed a fresh pair socks at that very moment so he could put on his shoes to go back outside. It jolted me out my prayer and I snapped at him.
I had good reasons for snapping at him. He was not going to dirty up another pair of socks this late in the day, especially after having just taken off another pair of socks an hour earlier. He was only going to be outside for five minutes any way before he would be called back in to stay for the evening. He was whinning. He interrupted my special moment in prayer, a prayer of forgiveness and a special request for help for something deficient in myself that I did not like, a something that I had recently became aware of and was finally accepting about myself.
None of these were good reasons to snap at my son. Where was my compassion? A simple and calm “no” would have been the better response. It is true that he would have continued to whine about it, but snapping at him didn’t stop him either. It just forced him to cry to his mom about not getting his way.
I know that all parents have these kinds of moments when they respond in an angerly manner to their child. It is part of living in a family. Learning not to snap at interruptions is part of life.
But I was supposed to be in a moment of prayer. I was trying to be open to God. Anger should not have been my response. I should have also been open to another person. I was being selfish, especially about my prayer time. And my reaction to my son’s interruption drove the point home more than words could.
Mission accomplished, prayer interrupted. It didn’t matter that the tail of the snake was seen as he left the picture. His work was done for the moment. It is not God’s consolation if the tail of the snake can be found in either the beginning, middle, or end.

Waiting

Wednesday, April 4th, 2007

Heard this line in the movie, As Good As It Gets:

Waiting gives the devil time.

Waiting also gives God time.

The Devil’s Love

Tuesday, February 13th, 2007

From James Finley’s Merton’s Palace of Nowhere, Finley quotes Thomas Merton:

It is…a blindness to prayer that exposes us to the pitfalls of becoming ourselves like those,

…for whom a tree has no reality until they think of cutting it down, for whom an animal has no value until it enters a slaughterhouse, men who never look at anything until they decide to abuse it and who never even notice what they do not want to destroy.

This is the lowest kind of love, the love which destroys its object as the love is fulfilled. This is the love of the false self that can appreciate and acknowledge only that which it devours to feed and to foster its own frail shadow existence.

This is what the devil calls “love”, to use the object of its desire, to consume it.

In the preface to the 1961 edition of The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis describes one of the motives of devils as “a kind of hunger”.

I feign that devils can, in a spiritual sense, eat one another; and us. Even in human life we have seen the passion to dominate, almost to digest, one’s fellow; make his whole intellectual and emotional life merely an extension of one’s own—to hate one’s hatreds and resent one’s grievances and indulge one’s egoism through him as well as through oneself. His own little store of passion must of course be suppressed to make room for ours. If he resists this suppression he is being very selfish.

On Earth this desire is often called “love.” In Hell I feign that they recognise it as hunger. But there the hunger is more ravenous, and a fuller satisfaction is possible. There, I suggest, the stronger spirit—there are perhaps no bodies to impede the operation—can really and irrevocably suck the weaker into itself and permanently gorge its own being on the weaker’s outraged individuality.

Prayer is Not Magic

Thursday, September 25th, 2003

Sometime in the middle of August, I ran into Becca, one of my former students. She was about to start her freshman year in college as a pre-med major. As we caught up on our recent histories, she told me that her boss Charlie was in the hospital in a coma. He was in there for something routine. At some point, he was given something (accidentally?) in which he had a violent reaction. It caused renal failure, and he slipped into a coma. The prognosis was bleak.

Later that day, I found a quiet place and prayed for Charlie. I prayed everyday for God to heal Charlie. Let it his recovery be a miracle and an inspiration for others to find a way to get closer to God. I also prayed for his family to find the strength, courage, and endurance to make it through this trying time. Let it be in Your plan that Charlie recovered.

About a week later, I called Becca to see how Charlie was doing. I was not surprised to find out that his condition was improving a little. I had expected this kind of news; after all, I had been praying for his recovery. He was half-conscience. His eyes were not really open, but he would respond to request like, “Can you wiggle your feet?” His kidneys were still not functioning. Progress was still very guarded, but I knew things would work out for the best. I continued to pray for Charlie’s health.

I didn’t hear from Becca for a week or two. Finally, I saw her at our high school’s football game on Sept. 12th. I eagerly asked about Charlie. I was devastated to hear that he had died on Labor Day. My heart sank.

Why did Charlie not live? Why were my prayers not answered?

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