My Merciful Father,
This just intercepted from the other side. It is no surprise the Fallen One is taking full advantage of the current state of arousal in our beloved people. Like all else, he is using the disease to distract them and incite fear. He is herding our people to their stores to buy mass amounts of goods out of anxiety. They are enslaved by thoughts of life without their comforts, most notably toilet paper. I shall share the following with our fellow laborers.
Your faithful and humble servant,
“My dear Wormwood,
I am pleased to hear of the recent developments with your patient. Continue to draw her concern to the news reports and talk of the disease. It is a beautiful thing when the humans all report to each other what they have heard. It is our duty to muddle their sense of what is “real.” The media has always been a wonderful asset to us. In my day, it was simply TV and newspaper. You, my young one, have arguably the greatest tool ever at our disposal, social media. It would indeed be a wonder if you and your brothers would not be able to secure your patients in our Father’s house with such an easily yielded weapon. However, the Church has also found ways to yield it. I dare say, solely by its design, we have the higher ground, with the humans’ tendency towards self-absorption and preoccupation of the thoughts of their peers. Thus, it is no matter really. I know you mentioned you were worried about the attempts of the Enemy to draw her gaze away from the widespread fear and uncertainty of how the disease could alter her plans and back to the promises He so clearly and repeatedly speaks to her. It is no loss, I assure you. This is what you have yet to learn about the humans. Even those that call themselves most faithful, those seemingly unreachable to us, those most intimate with the Enemy, even these, are but human. Not pure spirits like us, which means, they will inevitably succumb. What you must learn is, to what will your patient succumb to. If I am reading your reports correctly, it sounds as though the blood of our most decorated and esteemed souls runs in her veins, the treasured Pharisees of old. I know you have heard us older demons talk of those of our rank responsible for puppeting these men. It was something to behold, believe me. Nevermind, though, it is your patient we must consider at the present moment. With this cherished Pharisaic strain, when she is no longer enthralled by the unknown or distracted with the panic, she will look at those who are still under our spell, condescendingly, and scoff. This, my dear friend, may be our greatest sense of victory. Humans deep within the Church, though they desire all to know the so-called “love” of the Enemy, also harbor deep within themselves a sense of superiority. If not superiority, covetousness. I believe the Enemy is quite aware of this and keen on warning against it, but as I said before, humans are not pure spirits. They will forget or dismiss the truth. The only real danger for us comes when the humans recognize their error and are genuinely tormented by it, leading them to, I shutter even speaking it, repentance.
This you must not let happen. Keep her eyes on the others who are running to their stores and hoarding their goods. Flood her thoughts with the goodness and beauty of her way and how “sad” she is that these others do not have the solid foundation she has. Though the relationship the Enemy has with the humans touches their humanity intimately and unshakingly [we have no answer in this regard], it is still something one can hold over another. It can still be used as a stumbling block. This, my nephew, is what you need to do. Let the schoolgirl piety brew and fester into rage inflamed by the smallest of sparks. The bike ride you spoke of is exactly this. How it angers her that she has valued and loved the Enemy’s creation and His presence in His created things for so long, while the “others” have had their noses stuck in worldly things like phones, jobs and our beloved social media. Now, by their leaders’ restrictions in response to the disease, children are not in school and adults are working remotely, they have flocked to the outdoors. Do not be so naïve to the fact this could be quite disastrous for us. Humans with their eyes on things they have created is not worrisome, but humans with their eyes on things the Enemy has created, truly seeing these things and how they are related to them, is shattering to our Father’s house. It is doubtful one or two days bathed in fresh air and sun will wash away their preference for the “normal” and “ordinary” of the lives they are accustomed to living. What they call living, that is. This is why we work so hard to convince them Death is to be most feared. If the humans are consumed with avoiding and putting off Death, they most certainly will not realize life. We know the Enemy has made this mute for the humans, as He embraced Death and has made abundant living available to them in complete freedom. Fortunately, they remain so willing to shackle themselves. This they will do on their own, my nephew, it is not your task. Your task is to make those shackles appear as riches.
Your affectionate uncle,
The confession of a wretched and lowly laborer:
Dear Lord, God, help me. Forgive me.
WAKE UP PEOPLE!! LOOK AROUND LONG ENOUGH TO SEE YOU CANNOT SAVE YOURSELF!! BE STILL LONG ENOUGH TO ASK YOURSELF WHY YOU ARE SO FRIGHTENED. LISTEN LONG ENOUGH TO HEAR YOUR HEART SIGH AND GROAN UNDER THE WEIGHT OF THE SHACKLES YOU HAVE LOCKED IT WITH.
Stay away from God’s good earth, damn it. If you run to His creation because your own has sputtered and died, leave now. Go back to your fragile and fleeting world. How dare you eat from the table. Attempt stomaching living water and the bread of life when you have feasted on crumbs. You have made His temple a marketplace. Get the hell out!
Oh no, are your best made plans laid waste? Is your precious identity on the verge of collapse because your job is not as sure-footed as you thought? Do you whine in the agony of not knowing what tomorrow will bring? How frantically do you grasp the things you once thought were within your control as they slip through your fingers like smoke. Welcome to the real world y’all! This has been my reality for a while now, so let me get everybody up to speed. YOU ARE NOT IN CONTROL. YOU DO NOT OWN ANYTHING. YOU ARE NOT DEFINED BY YOUR JOB OR WHAT YOU HAVE. YOU ARE NOT OWED, ENTITLED OR ENSURED ANYTHING OUTSIDE OF DEATH. ALL IS VANITY.
I want you to taste the immense goodness of this reality, this utter freedom, but I also do not. It probably doesn’t seem too appealing from the previous outbursts so maybe I have accomplished the latter. I want to claim righteous anger, but I would be a greater fool than I am already to do so. The truth is this reality is satisfying beyond anything you can imagine. I want to hold onto it like a best kept secret. Something only a select group is savvy to. You cannot know if you are not part of the inner circle. Only the initiated are allowed in. I want to protect it like my greatest and wildest dreams. However, it is not mine to keep, protect, reveal or withhold. I can only relate how I have never tasted anything like it before, nor after tasting it, do I want anything other. Why is it so hard for me to want you to experience the same? Maybe because I perceive there will then be less for me. Maybe because I fear being ordinary or average and believe I must have something others do not in order not to be so. Maybe because I want all the attention and care from the Father I feel I was deprived of in my childhood. I just want Him to see me. Though I often attempt to avoid His gaze.
Look at me, Lord. Turn Your face from me, Lord. I crave Your presence; I cannot stand to be before You. I should be dead. Who am I? Here I am. Send me.
Woe is me, Lord, have mercy. I am the patient; I am the Pharisee.
Unapologetically and sorrowfully,
PS- the above letter from Screwtape to Wormwood is a spin of the book Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis, one of his most disturbing and enlightening works in my opinion. I only hope I have spurred interest in his much more brilliant writing if nothing else.