Keeping the Captive

KEEPING THE CAPTIVE

To my dad, and to all the Godly mentors the Lord has brought into my life! Thank you for your grace and patience in all you have taught me over the years! May I always speak the truth. . . but in love.

~~~~~`

Too busy to rest, then too restless to sleep. What an odd sensation these Earthlings lose themselves in. They pride themselves in their freedom while they wholeheartedly collect chains. Another pleasurable sin, another vice, another death. We see the natural progression of the natural man, and sometimes we think our job is easy. 

Take my captive, for instance. Your typical, foolish Earthling. He doesn’t help our cause much, but that’s okay. He is slowly dragging himself into the dirt, crushing himself under a load of sins and chains he’s been collecting since birth. I’m watching him right now. I’m obsessed with keeping him. It’s my job. I have provided him with the essentials, of course—a pathetic façade of “life is good” and a couple of weapons to fight back the logic of the enemy with. In one hand he carries the wisdom of man, their primary choice to deflect the evident truth that there is a God. It’s a blunt spiritual sword, really, because who can deny His existence? In the other hand he carries a shield of healthy skepticism of spiritual things. He doesn’t even think I or my kind exist!  I smile at this little captive soldier I’ve built. His armor is so pathetic . . . no more than a mask to hide the deep pain of a meaningless life. And yet off he trudges into another day, ready to fight for his freedom to remain my captive.

You can see why I think my job is easy sometimes, and I am only a low-ranking force compared to most of my comrades! Pardon me for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Lucius, and I am an enlightened angel serving the Morning Star. I reject the plan my Creator had for me, and I live to serve my new lord in his quest to establish his kingdom over all the created world. I live, like he does, to steal, kill, and destroy. I repeat that pattern over and over with each new assignment—each new captive— I am given. I steal away their hope and chance at an abundant life. I crush their earthly life. And they are destroyed forever in an eternal punishment so horrible it was originally reserved for us. Yes, you simple humans call us demons, but don’t forget what we once were. We’re more real, more glorious and profound, than you ever will be in your natural state, Earthlings. Which is why we want to keep you that way.

Does my captive even know we are destroying him? He must know, because despite my hardest efforts to the contrary, he has been exposed to the light several times. He knows of the abundant life our enemy offers . . . a life of true freedom and broken chains. A life of power over the grave and victory over our temptations because of the work of the Son of Man. It’s terrible. Sometimes I can’t believe he doesn’t wake up and see it. Is sin that pleasurable that he would choose it over life?

I jerk myself from my contemplations and turn my attention back to the task for the day. Keep him captive; don’t let them change him. A flash of doubt sparks through my mind. My orders are clear, and though they seem utterly antithetical to my mission, I trust with utter confidence in my superiors. I am taking my captive to see a Christian today. We’ve been orchestrating this appointment all morning, and it is almost show time.

My captive is hard at work at his day job. He works at Starbucks—long shifts too. As many hours as he can get. Right now, he is wiping tables. He’s got his back turned to the Christian, who is walking toward him with coffee and computer bag in tow, but that will change in a second. Sure enough, almost right on cue, the Christian opens his mouth to speak. Here we go!

“Good morning! Thanks for wiping that table.”

“Yeah, not a problem,” my captive replies.

“I can’t stand tables that still have crud on them,” the Christian says. He unslings his computer bag and plops it on the edge of the table, where my captive has already cleaned. They are now on opposite ends of the table from each other. My captive has his head down, rubbing away at the sticky ring someone’s caramel frap has made. The Christian is staring at him awkwardly, waiting for him to finish, trying to think of something else to say. He shifts from one foot to the other, then takes a sip of his coffee. He gulps it down too quickly, I think. It looks like he burns his throat.

“You having a good morning?”the Christian all but chokes out.

“I’m hanging in there.” My captive straightens up and snaps his rag clean. I am afraid he is going to turn and leave, but thankfully, for the sake of not looking completely indifferent, he reciprocates the question. “How about you?”

“Oh I’m good!” the Christian replies. “God is good!”

There it is. Finally! These Christians, they are often so slow getting around to mentioning the God they claim to serve. This is the whole point of the meeting though! A test. A conflict. And if all things work out as planned, a captive even deeper in bondage. I lean forward, watching every moment unfold. I’m ready to insert myself if need be.

Right on cue, my captive bristles. Up goes his shield. It’s invisible to earthly eyes; I wonder if the Christian even notices it. But regardless, my captive’s words make it clear where he stands. “Well, I’m glad God’s working out for you anyway,” he says.

“You don’t believe in God?” the Christian asks. Ah, you see, he wants this opportunity too. The spiritual conflict is inevitable now. I feel myself thrill to the fight. The coffee house setting fades and all but disappears in my mind’s eye. I am immersed in this glorious, eternally-impacting struggle.

My captive shrugs. ”I don’t know. I believe in things I can see and observe.” With these words, he unsheathes the spiritual weapon I have equipped him with, the wisdom of man. I’m disappointed to see that he doesn’t thrust deep with it. Not yet, at least. Maybe he will once he feels more threatened.  

“I have seen and observed God!” the Christian replies. “He is evident in all His creation!” With these words, out comes the Christian’s weapon. It shines brighter than gold, like sunlight on a pure, white snowfield. It is sharp and deadly, able to cut right through the pathetic armor we equip our captives with.

I shudder and draw back, suddenly terrified. What am I thinking! Such a weapon can easily destroy any fortress I might build. It is absolute torment to me! In a moment, I am ready to take flight and flee for my life. Let me go black to darkness, away from the light and the battles. Who cares what happens to my captive, if only I am safe from that terrible weapon! But my eyes lock with one of my superiors across the room. He is a seasoned warrior for our master; he has destroyed countless numbers of captives. He tells me in that glance to hold on.

“I only know,” my captive is saying, “that many, many smart people believe in evolution. What’s more, science has proven it!” It’s a weak thrust with a blunt weapon. Such a jab won’t dent the shield of faith most Christians have, and sure enough, it glances harmlessly off this Christian’s shield.

The Christian raises his brilliant weapon high. It is his turn to strike. I all but grovel in my place behind my captive, knowing I will feel the terrible bite of the Christian’s spiritual weapon. Surely it will rip me to shreds, or if not me, then my doctrines of deceit.  The weapon drops, and I all but screech and flee . . .

 But the blow doesn’t strike me! It cuts deeply into my captive, rending right through his pathetic armor. I hate to see the armor rent, but I am so glad I didn’t receive the blow that I can’t be truly upset.

“The fool says in his heart, there is no God! Fools deny the self-evident truth of God and suppress the truth with their own foolishness. You are a fool if you follow them!”  

Again and again the Christian raises his weapon and strikes. He shares truth after truth, battering down my captive’s feeble attempts to raise his shield of skepticism.  At first I flinch with every stroke, sure one of them will be directed at me, sure that my plans for keeping my captive will be harmed. But with each stroke, I grow more confident, and then even exuberant as I watch. My captive reels from each blow. His spirit is being crushed. He is being emptied and insulted, bludgeoned out of humanity itself. The Christian’s work is far more devastating than any of my efforts in my captive’s life the last year. What amazing destruction! The Christian’s weapons are indeed powerful.

I realize the brilliance of my master’s scheme. Why take my captive to a Christian? For precisely the reason before me! Their weapons can cut deeper than any of ours, even our most potent ones like rage, jealousy, and slander. We know this from experience. Countless numbers of our spiritual strongholds have fallen to the power of their weapons and the Lord they serve.

But what if—imagine this! What if these Christian soldiers mistake our captives for their enemies?

The battle is over. My captive disengages, too weary to continue. The Christian watches my captive as he heads back to the employee section of Starbucks and he even calls out “God bless you!” as if he has just won a great victory. But it is I who have won! Yes, my captive lost his shield and weapon—they are battered to pieces!—but he still carries his chains. He stumbles underneath them, his inward person too damaged to hold up under them much longer.

My captive finds his way out the back door, to where the employees who smoke take their breaks. His friend Joe is there, sprawled out on a green, rust-speckled bench. I wave hello to my comrade assigned to Joe, and he gives me a knowing look and a thumbs up. Joe takes a drag from his cigarette and does one of those “cool man” chin bobs at my captive. “What’s up, dude?”

“I hate Christians.”

Joe laughs. “You too, huh? What happened? Some zealot aim his blaze of glory at you?”

“Yeah, big time Bible-thumper.” My captive sighs, kicks at the cigarette buds that litter the floor, and sits down on the bench next to Joe. “What’s their problem, man? Do they take pleasure in ripping us apart?”

“Naw, they want you to believe what they do, bro.”

“By pounding me into the dirt? I’d rather go to hell than believe what they do.”

“Haha, that’s the spirit. Believe in what makes you happy, that’s what I live by. If that sends me to hell or not, I don’t know. But at least it makes life here bearable.” Joe taps the ashes out of his cigarette and leans back like he has just shared a bit of profound wisdom.

“Keeps our Sundays free, that’s for sure,” my captive replies wryly. For the first time this morning, he smiles. This is perfect! Bit by bit, Joe has nursed my captive’s wounds. He’s helped him recover! At the end of it all, he’s handed my captive back his shield of skepticism and helped arm him again with our spiritual weapons, and my captive is stronger for it. He just might make a good soldier for our cause someday.

The two humans share a laugh, and my captive rises and clasps his friend on the shoulder. “Thanks, Joe, I appreciate you being there for me. I got to get back to the tables.”

“No problem, man, anytime.” Joe flicks his cigarette on the floor and stomps it. “I’ll follow you in. Gotta keep making the big bucks, right?”

“Haha, that’s right. One day at a time.” My captive holds the door open, and the two of them file in.

I pause at the door, collecting myself. Proud, very proud. My superior meets me there. It may sound weird to you humans that we have emotions too, but he is all but smiling as he says, “Good work, Lucius.”

“Thanks. I did well?”

“Yes, it went as well as planned.”

“So what’s next?”

“Same thing as always—keeping the captive. Don’t lose him.”

“After today? I don’t think I ever will.”

My superior nods. “Just keep him away from Christians who actually know how to use their weapons.”

I grin maliciously. “Sounds like a plan!”

~~~~~~

The Lord’s bond-servant must not be quarrelsome, but be kind to all, able to teach, patient when wronged, with gentleness correcting those who are in opposition, if perhaps God may grant them repentance leading to the knowledge of the truth, and they may come to their senses and escape from the snare of the devil, having been held captive by him to do his will. 2 Timothy 2:24-26