A word before we start: Introduction: A Diary from the Darkness
Many of you know that I’ve launched Shoe Leather Gospel, a Bible teaching ministry built to help believers walk faithfully with a biblical worldview. As I’ve been developing resources that trace the big picture of Scripture—from Genesis to Revelation, I kept circling back to one recurring thread that ties the whole story together: the serpent in the garden has never left the stage.
Satan isn’t a side character in red tights; he’s a real and raging adversary, weaving deception from Eden to Armageddon. And as I was outlining God’s redemptive narrative, I started asking a strange but insightful question: What would Satan himself say if he looked back over the wreckage he’s caused? What would his inner monologue sound like, after the Tribulation, after Armageddon, chained in the abyss for a thousand years, seething with pride, rage, and regret?
So, with a strong cup of coffee and a dose of sanctified imagination, I sat down to write. What emerged is a literary exploration, a fictional diary entry in the style of C.S. Lewis’s Screwtape Letters, but darker, more apocalyptic, and drawn tightly from Scripture. It traces Satan’s rebellion, his war against Israel and the Church, and his eventual imprisonment at the dawn of the millennial reign of Christ.
This isn’t satire or fanfiction, it’s theological storytelling grounded in the biblical meta-narrative and shaped by a high view of Scripture. My aim was to remain biblically faithful while imagining how the enemy of God might recount his own fall. I hope it deepens your understanding of spiritual warfare, of Satan’s schemes, and more than anything, of Christ’s absolute victory.
Here it is: “The Devil’s Diary: Chained in the Abyss.”
Solus Christus.
–Chris
Prologue: Cast Down into Darkness
I am bound—chained in this lightless abyss (Revelation 20:1–3). The echoes of the angel’s decree still ring in my ears. Once I roamed freely, “the prince of the power of the air” (Ephesians 2:2), but now a great chain coils around me. Rage boils within, hotter than the deepest hell. I will never admit defeat, not even as the darkness presses in. Instead, from this prison, I recount my tale with pride undimmed and hatred undying. Let the Enemy hear my chronicle of defiance and seethe, for though I am cast down, I remain unbowed.
A Prince Among Angels, Crowned in Pride
I was not always in chains. Once, I was the brightest of the morning – the anointed cherub who covered the throne of God (Ezekiel 28:14). Every precious stone was my adornment; every note of glory passed through me like music (Ezekiel 28:13). Created perfect in beauty and wisdom (Ezekiel 28:12,15), I walked among the fiery stones of God’s holy mountain. How could one so exalted not gaze into the mirror of his own splendor? How could I not deserve a throne of my own?
Pride was found in me – a new and heady fire. I desired the worship that drifted like incense toward the Almighty. Why should He alone be exalted above the stars? In the secret sanctuary of my heart, I resolved to ascend. I whispered to myself bold ambitions the Enemy would later publish to all:
- “I will ascend into heaven; I will exalt my throne above the stars of God.”
- “I will sit on the mount of assembly in the far reaches of the north.”
- “I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.” (Isaiah 14:13–14)
These were no idle dreams—I meant to rule. One-third of the angelic host I swayed to my cause; a third of the stars of heaven fell with me (Revelation 12:3–4). We were a glorious company of rebels, shining seraphim and cherubim who chose me as our leader instead of servitude to Him. War erupted in heaven – unimaginable once, but I lit the spark.
The Almighty’s loyal armies, led by that wretched archangel Michael, met us in battle (Revelation 12:7). Blades of light clashed with our blades of burning pride. I fought with all the fury of one who believes he cannot lose… and yet we were cast out. How the mighty were humiliated! “How you are fallen from heaven, O Day Star, son of the morning!” they taunted (Isaiah 14:12). I crashed down from the courts of glory, my wings singed by the very holiness I once reflected. Banished from the Mount of Assembly, I tumbled to the earth like lightning (Luke 10:18), consumed with wrath and the bitter taste of defeat. Yet even in my fall, my pride only grew. If I could not topple the throne of Heaven by force, I would strike at the one thing He loved more: His precious humans.
Eden: Corrupting God’s New Creation
When I fell to earth, I found a new world freshly spoken into existence – a jewel of creation filled with life, overseen by a naïve human pair molded from dust. Adam and Eve, they were called – beloved by the Enemy, given dominion over earth (Genesis 1:28). How I loathed them! Made in His image, these mud creatures were intended to reflect His glory in ways we celestial beings never could. In them I saw a cunning opportunity: if I could twist them away from Him, it would be a deeper wound than any spear thrust in battle. To seduce the beloved of God into rebellion – ah, that would be revenge indeed.
I coiled myself in the form of a serpent, shrewd and subtle (Genesis 3:1). In that paradisal garden, beneath the verdant boughs of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, I found my prey. “Did God really say…?” I hissed to the woman, injecting the first drop of doubt (Genesis 3:1). With sly half-truths and bold-faced lies, I enticed her: “You will not surely die… your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Genesis 3:4–5). How deliciously ironic – I dangled before her the same pride that had consumed me: the desire to be as God.
Eve’s resolve wavered, then crumbled. She took the fruit, sinking humanity’s teeth into disobedience. Adam followed, foolishly heeding his wife’s voice over the Creator’s command. In that single act, I corrupted God’s pristine creation. Innocence died; shame was born. As they cowered and sewed fig leaves to cover their nakedness (Genesis 3:7), I exulted in triumph. The Enemy’s own image-bearers had chosen me over Him! I had struck a blow straight to the Creator’s heart.
Then He came walking in the garden’s cool of day (Genesis 3:8). Oh, I remember how the Almighty’s voice thundered with sorrow and righteous anger as He pronounced judgment. To the woman, pain and subordination; to the man, cursed ground and death; and to me – to me He gave the most maddening prophecy of all. He declared that from the woman would come a Seed, a human deliverer, who would crush my head even as I struck His heel (Genesis 3:15). It was a veiled threat of ultimate defeat. I did not fully grasp it then, but I knew it boded ill. Even as I slithered away under His curse – “On your belly you shall go… dust you shall eat all your life” (Genesis 3:14) – I vowed that if some Promised One was to arise from humanity, I would devote myself to corrupting, defiling, or destroying that lineage. None would crush my head if I could help it!
Thus the first rebellion in Eden was complete: mankind fell, and I stood as the proud architect of their downfall. Humanity was now estranged from the Enemy, just as I intended. But I was only getting started. If I could not ascend to heaven, I would turn earth into a theater of war against the Most High – an endless revolt across generations. My pride demanded nothing less.
The Second Rebellion: Spawn of the Fallen Sons
My next stratagem struck at the very fabric of God’s creation. If He meant to bring forth a Redeemer from the seed of the woman, I would stain that seed. I remembered the glorious angels who fell with me, those once called the sons of God. Many of them, like me, chafed at the Enemy’s plan to exalt these mud-born humans above us. So I orchestrated another insurgency – a forbidden union of heaven and earth that would produce a grotesque mockery of His design.
In the generations after Eden, as humans multiplied, I whispered seductive ideas to some of my fallen brethren: take the daughters of men for yourselves; sire your own children; create a new breed to claim the earth. And they did. The sons of God looked upon the women of earth and lusted after their beauty. They abandoned their proper dwelling and took human wives, indulging in pleasures never meant for celestial beings (Genesis 6:1–2). From these unholy couplings giants were born – the Nephilim, titans of renown and terror (Genesis 6:4). Ah, what a delightful corruption! These abominable offspring were half-breed horrors, violent and ravenous, polluting the human bloodline. They taught mankind sorceries and wars, bringing chaos and carnage. Soon the earth was filled with wickedness and violence of a scale unimaginable (Genesis 6:11–12). Perfect! How could the Holy One bring forth a holy Deliverer from such defiled stock?
I watched with glee as every thought of the human heart turned continually to evil (Genesis 6:5). They were becoming my spitting image – proud, cruel, and corrupt. I had nearly succeeded in remaking the world in my twisted image. But the Enemy… He responded with a cataclysm. In His infuriating habit of preserving a remnant, He found one righteous man, Noah, blameless in his generations (Genesis 6:8–9). Noah’s line was untainted by our corruption, and he still worshiped the Most High. At God’s command, Noah built an ark to survive a coming judgment. I scoffed—until the fountains of the deep burst forth and torrents of rain fell.
In a mighty Flood, the world was cleansed of my glorious chaos (Genesis 7:11–12, 23). The Nephilim perished beneath the waves; my fallen sons who spawned them were cast into gloomy dungeons, bound in chains until the final judgment (2 Peter 2:4, Jude 1:6). I howled in fury as my beautiful ruin was washed away. All my work to turn humanity utterly evil was frustrated by a boat and a deluge! The eight souls aboard that ark emerged into a renewed world, and once again the human story continued toward that mysterious promised Seed. My second grand rebellion had been answered by the Enemy’s devastating discipline. I tasted the bile of defeat yet again. Still, my pride only sharpened. If open corruption by angelic intermingling was thwarted, I would need a subtler plan to seize dominion over mankind.
The Third Rebellion: Towering Defiance at Babel
I bided my time as Noah’s descendants repopulated the earth. They were fruitful, spreading out as the Creator decreed—at least for a while. Eventually I found an ambitious pawn in a man named Nimrod, a mighty hunter and a charismatic leader (Genesis 10:8–10). Through him I would unite humanity in a new act of defiance. Why let them obey the Enemy’s command to fill the earth (Genesis 9:1) when I could corral them together under my influence?
On the plain of Shinar, I inspired the building of a city and a great tower “with its top in the heavens” (Genesis 11:1–4). This was more than a city project—it was an attempt to breach the boundary between earth and heaven, to storm the gates of God’s realm as one unified people. One world, one language, one people—all under my shadow. They even said, “Let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed” (Genesis 11:4). That was my boast speaking through mortals: they would ascend, they would make their name great, defying the Name of the Most High. How I savored their arrogance; it mirrored my own ancient hope to usurp Heaven.
The tower rose, and with it, humanity’s collective pride. For a moment, it seemed I might succeed in building a lasting empire of Man against God—a united earthly kingdom owing allegiance not to the Creator, but to the glory of self (which is ultimately allegiance to me). But once more, the Enemy intervened decisively. With a mere confusion of tongues, He shattered the unity of my would-be kingdom (Genesis 11:7–8). One moment, all workers spoke one language; the next, a babble of dialects sent them into chaos. Construction ground to a halt. In frustration and fear, they abandoned the project and scattered across the globe. My grand Tower of Babel—the gateway to God—stood unfinished, an embarrassing monument to His power to humble pride.
Yet even in this defeat lay a strange victory for me. As God scattered the nations, He also disinherited them in a sense. According to the number of the heavenly hosts He apportioned peoples to lesser divine beings (Deuteronomy 32:8–9). The nations went after other gods—gods that were not gods, demons in disguise (Deuteronomy 32:17). In truth, those so-called gods were many of my own fallen comrades, the principalities and powers in the unseen realm. Each took charge of a nation or region, reveling in the worship that rightly belonged to the Most High. And over them all, I set myself as king. If I could not rule from Heaven, I would rule in the shadows of earth. In the wake of Babel, the human world was plunged into idolatry and polytheism. Every nation had its patron demon-god—Marduk, Baal, Zeus, and a thousand other names—all roads of false worship ultimately led to me. Scripture would later say, “The whole world lies under the power of the evil one” (1 John 5:19). That evil one is I, Satan, the Adversary. At last, I had achieved a measure of the worship I craved.
Yet, the Enemy had one nation reserved for Himself. He chose a tiny, insignificant tribe to mold into His own people—Israel. In the aftermath of Babel, He called a man named Abram out of Mesopotamia. “In you all the families of the earth shall be blessed,” He vowed to that wandering nomad (Genesis 12:3). I sneered at this plan. From a childless old man He would raise a nation? From that nation would come the promised Seed, the one who would crush me? Very well—two can play at this game. If God set apart a people for Himself, I would devote special hatred and attention to them. Israel would become the primary theater of my long war. I swore to thwart, corrupt, or destroy this chosen people at every turn, so that the promise could never be fulfilled. And thus the stage was set for centuries of conflict between the serpent and the sons of Abraham.
War Against the Chosen: Israel’s Agony
From the day Israel was born, I was lurking in the shadows, ready to strike. When Abraham’s promised son Isaac was finally born, I tested the waters—I whispered to Abraham to send Ishmael, the son of the Egyptian slave, into the wilderness (Genesis 21:9–10). Perhaps I could disrupt the line. But the Enemy was faithful to His covenant; Isaac remained. When a famine arose, I hoped to starve them out, but He provided for them in Egypt (Genesis 50:20).
Egypt—now there was an opportunity. As Abraham’s descendants multiplied into a nation within Pharaoh’s land, I enslaved them through a tyrant’s fear. For centuries, my cruelty reigned: crack whips on backs, drowned babies in the Nile (Exodus 1:22). I exulted as Israel groaned under oppression. Perhaps this would extinguish the covenant line! But the accursed Most High raised a deliverer, Moses. With great signs and plagues, He forced my hand and Pharaoh released the slaves. I tasted another bitter setback when the waters of the Red Sea collapsed and destroyed the army I’d stirred to pursue them (Exodus 14:27–28). The one true God publicly shamed Egypt’s gods—my underlings—bringing Israel out with a mighty hand.
Still, I did not relent. If I could not keep Israel enslaved, I would corrupt them from within. As they wandered in the wilderness, I tempted them to idolatry and rebellion. I enticed them with a golden calf at Sinai (Exodus 32:4), with craving for meat and bitter complaining against their God. Over and over they faltered: unbelief, immorality, idol worship—I was behind it all, slithering through their camp unseen. Thousands fell in judgment for their sin, which I gladly incited, but always a faithful remnant survived under the Enemy’s merciful eye. He fed them manna, gave them His law, taught them how to resist me (Deuteronomy 8:3). Infuriating!
In Canaan, I raised up giant clans and fortified cities to oppose the Israelites. My old offspring, the Nephilim, had descendants like Og of Bashan and Goliath of Gath—towering warriors to terrify the people of God (Deuteronomy 3:11, 1 Samuel 17:4). And indeed, when Israel first saw the giants, they quailed and wanted to return to Egypt (Numbers 13:31–33). I nearly derailed them there; an entire generation died in the wilderness for their lack of faith. But their children, under Joshua, found courage in the Most High and slaughtered my giants one by one. The walls of Jericho fell flat at a mere shout (Joshua 6:20). My Canaanite idol shrines were torn down. Piece by piece, the Enemy established His people in my territory.
Time would fail me to recount all my campaigns against Israel, but know that I never left them in peace. When they obeyed God, I schemed to lure them into complacency or pride. When they grew lazy, I dangled foreign gods before their eyes. Baal, Ashtoreth, Molech—names change, but behind each idol was my whisper: “Worship this, and forsake the Lord.” They fell for it repeatedly. In the time of the judges, I had them ensnared in a vicious cycle of rebellion and oppression (Judges 2:11–15). When they demanded a king to be like other nations, I gave them Saul—a man of impressive stature outwardly, but weak of character. He started well but soon succumbed to jealousy and madness under my provocation, nearly killing the future king David. Ah, David—I grudgingly admit that shepherd boy was a thorn in my side. He was far from perfect (I tempted him into adultery and murder after all, 2 Samuel 11:4,14–15), but he repentedand humbled himself, foiling my attempt to claim him. Despite my interference, God made a covenant with David that one of his descendants would reign forever (2 Samuel 7:12–13). Another vexing promise pointing to that coming Messiah—the Seed who would crush me.
I intensified my assault. If the royal line of David was key to the Enemy’s plan, I would cut it off. I inspired Queen Athaliah to murder all heirs to David’s throne—she nearly succeeded, slaying every prince except one infant, Joash, who was hidden from me in the temple (2 Kings 11:1–3). Such frustration! Time and again, when I tried to extinguish the line of promise, the Most High preserved a remnant.
I set nation against nation to destroy Israel. Assyria, then Babylon—like ravenous beasts I sicced them on God’s flock. Assyria devoured the northern tribes and scattered them (2 Kings 17:6, 18). Babylon, my proud servant, sacked Jerusalem and dragged Judah into exile (2 Chronicles 36:17–20). The Davidic king’s sons were killed; the line seemed broken. The temple was in ashes. I delighted in the lamentations of the Jews by the rivers of Babylon. Was this not the end of God’s covenant people? Had I not finally proven the Almighty too weak to protect His chosen? For seventy years I gloated… until, by the decree of Cyrus, the Jews returned and rebuilt (Ezra 1:2–3). Like a phoenix, that nation rose from the very exile I engineered. The ancient prophecies still lived; the bloodline of David persisted through Zerubbabel and beyond.
Perhaps my most grandiose attempt to eradicate the Jews came much later under a man named Haman in Persia. Ah, what a diabolical plan that was! By my inspiration, Haman plotted genocide—every Jew in the empire to be killed in a single day (Esther 3:13). It would have been a masterstroke: no people, no Messiah. But at the last moment, that plan, too, unraveled by the Enemy’s providence working through Esther. Haman hanged on his own gallows (Esther 7:10), and the Jews survived yet again. My fury knew no bounds.
I then resorted to subtler tactics: if I could not destroy Israel physically, I would corrupt them spiritually. During the centuries leading up to the Messiah’s arrival, I sowed factions and hypocrisy among God’s people. Some Jews fell into rank Hellenistic paganism under Greek rule; others became proud legalists, white-washed pretenders devoted to self-righteous tradition. By the time the Promised One was about to appear, the Jewish leadership was so steeped in pride and blindness that I knew they would reject their own Messiah. And so they did—but I run ahead of myself. The climax of my story was approaching, when I would come face to face with the incarnate Son of the Most High.
The Dragon vs. The Seed: The Messiah’s Arrival
For millennia I had watched for the promised Seed—this prophesied One who would be my undoing. When would He come, and who would He be? We saw hints and shadows in the prophecies: a child born of a virgin (Isaiah 7:14), a ruler from Bethlehem (Micah 5:2), a servant who would suffer and bear sins (Isaiah 53:3–5). I pieced together the puzzle as best I could, but much was hidden from my eyes. One thing was clear: He would come through Israel, from the line of David, to claim a everlasting kingdom (Isaiah 9:6–7). So when at last a star blazed over Bethlehem and angelic choirs sang of a newborn king (Luke 2:10–14), I trembled with a mixture of dread and malice. The Seed of the woman had arrived; the Enemy had invaded my domain in the flesh of a helpless babe. If I could snuff Him out as an infant, the threat would be finished.
Herod was my instrument for this desperate deed. Through whispers of paranoia and pride, I spurred that Edomite king to order the slaughter of all male infants in Bethlehem (Matthew 2:16). Soldiers rushed into homes, blades drawn—I delighted in the screams, the blood, the cruel efficiency. Yet… the targeted Child was gone. Warned by a dream, His family fled to Egypt under cover of night (Matthew 2:13–14). Once more, Providence outmaneuvered me. Rage consumed me as I heard the weeping in Ramah (Matthew 2:17–18) without the satisfaction of the kill.
Still, the boy eventually returned and grew up in obscurity. For years I observed Him from afar, puzzling over His identity. Would this quiet carpenter’s son truly be the promised Savior-King? When He stepped into the Jordan to be baptized and the voice of God thundered, “This is My beloved Son” (Matthew 3:16–17), all doubt fled. It was Him. At last, my ancient Enemy had taken the field in person. The thought made my essence shiver—but also excited me. If I could corrupt even Him, turn the Son against the Father as I had done with Adam, it would be my ultimate triumph.
Thus I confronted Jesus of Nazareth in the wilderness. For 40 days I harried Him with temptations (Luke 4:1–2). I waited until He was weak with hunger, then I struck with all my subtle might. “If You are the Son of God, command these stones to become bread,” I purred (Matthew 4:3). Why shouldn’t the Son feed Himself? But He parried with Scripture, refusing to use His power selfishly (Matthew 4:4). I pressed on to a second assault: I took Him to the pinnacle of the temple and hissed, “Throw Yourself down… for it is written, ‘He will command His angels…’” (Matthew 4:6). Oh yes, I quoted His own scriptures at Him, twisting the holy words as a snare. Again He rebuffed me with Scripture, refusing to test God’s protection (Matthew 4:7). Frustration mounted within me. I decided to be blunt with the third temptation: from a high mountain I showed Him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory – the vast empires, the wealth, the splendor I had amassed as god of this age (2 Corinthians 4:4). “All this authority I will give You,” I offered, “if You will fall down and worship me” (Luke 4:5–7). It was mine to give, after all; the world had long been under my sway since Babel. How I reveled in that moment – the audacity of asking the Creator to bow to me! It almost worked, perhaps… but then His eyes flashed like lightning. “Away with you, Satan!” He thundered, “For it is written: ‘You shall worship the Lord your God, and Him only you shall serve’” (Matthew 4:10). With that, I was dismissed like some bothersome fly. Angels rushed to attend Him as I slunk away, seething. My direct temptation had failed. This Jesus would not fall as Adam did. I would have to consider more devious means to eliminate Him.
Over the next three years, I shadowed His every step, stirring up opposition wherever possible. I fanned the flames of hatred among the Pharisees and Sadducees as Jesus exposed their hypocrisy. I whispered betrayal into the heart of one of His own disciples, a greedy wretch named Judas (Luke 22:3–4). On the very night Jesus shared a sacred supper with His followers, I entered Judas, filling him with resolve to hand Jesus over for thirty silver coins (John 13:26–27). That fool! Little did he know he was executing my plan. Finally, the wheels were in motion to destroy the Son of God.
Jesus allowed Himself to be arrested—indeed, He even cooperated with the mob that came for Him. At his trial, I danced among the frenzied crowd as they howled for His crucifixion. “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!” (Luke 23:21). Those were mywords in their mouths. When Pontius Pilate yielded to their cries and sentenced Him to die, I exulted. To see the Messiah scorned, flogged, and adorned with a crown of thorns was a delicious sight. Each strike of the hammer nailing His hands and feet to the wooden cross rang as sweet music in my ears. The so-called King of the Jews was lifted up to hang in agony, and I thought I spied victory on the horizon at last.
As He writhed on that cross, the sky darkened. I heard Him gasp, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Matthew 27:46). Those words, prophesied in their Psalm 22, echoed the despair I hoped for—I wanted the Father to turn His face away from the Son, to break their precious fellowship. In that tortured cry, I thought I had finally accomplished the impossible: driven a wedge within the Godhead itself. It felt like triumph. Shortly after, Jesus breathed His last with a loud cry. The Son of God died. Let that sink in: God died! I had done it—used humanity to kill their own Creator. I roared in maleficent laughter as the earth quaked and His blood soaked Golgotha. Surely, this was the moment of my ultimate revenge.
The Crucifixion Backfire: My Humiliation
I should have known the Enemy’s penchant for twists—how many times had He snatched victory from my grasp? Yet in my arrogance, I did not foresee what came next. While Jesus’ body lay sealed in a tomb, His spirit invaded my domain, the realm of the dead. Like a triumphant warrior, He crashed through the gates of Sheol. He proclaimed liberty to captives and smashed the chains of death from the inside out (1 Peter 3:18–19). My infernal subordinates cowered as this radiant intruder robbed death of its prize. On the third day, to my utter horror, Jesus rose from the dead in immortal power (Matthew 28:5–6). The grave could not hold Him! All my plotting to kill the Messiah had only fulfilled the Enemy’s secret plan: that the Son’s death would ransom sinners from my grip (Colossians 2:14–15). In killing Him, I had unwittingly helped save them. Oh, the bitter irony tastes like ash even now.
It was the greatest backfire in all of history. Scripture later revealed that if I and my minions had understood God’s hidden wisdom, we would not have crucified the Lord of glory (1 Corinthians 2:7–8). Indeed! Had I realized that His death was the key to humanity’s redemption, I would have moved heaven and earth to prevent that crucifixion. Instead, I played right into the Almighty’s hands. At the cross, He disarmed the powers and authorities of darkness, making a public spectacle of us and triumphing over us (Colossians 2:15). What I had intended as the ultimate defeat for God turned into the crushing of my own head – that ancient prophecy from Eden coming true at last (Genesis 3:15). The promised Seed of the woman had bruised my skull, and I—like the dumb serpent I was—had bruised His heel, only for Him to walk it off in resurrection glory.
I cannot describe to you the fury and panic that seized me as Jesus ascended from the tomb. When the stone rolled away and He walked free, shining like the sun, I knew everything had changed. My centuries of careful strategies were now in peril. Death was my greatest weapon against humanity—the wages of sin that kept them under my dominion (Romans 6:23). But this Christ had paid their wages and risen to offer them eternal life beyond my reach. And indeed, soon after, He ascended back to heaven, leading a host of freed captives (Ephesians 4:8) and sat down at the right hand of God, far above every principality and power—above me (Ephesians 1:20–22). The victorious Son then sent His own Spirit to indwell His followers on earth, empowering those who once were my slaves to resist me. In a flash, the spiritual battlefield had shifted dramatically. My advantage was no longer assured.
Raging Against the Church
Enraged by my failure to destroy the Messiah, I turned my wrath toward those who would carry His name—the Church. If I could not stop the Son of God, perhaps I could annihilate or corrupt His followers and erase His influence from the earth. Thus began the next chapter of my war: a relentless persecution and deception campaign against the disciples of Jesus. Scripture rightly says, “Woe to the earth…for the devil has come down to you in great wrath, because he knows his time is short” (Revelation 12:12). Short indeed—since the resurrection I have felt the sands of time slipping through my claws. I am a mortally wounded dragon thrashing in desperation. And so I war with ferocity, knowing each passing day brings me closer to my doom.
First, I tried raw persecution. I incited the Jewish authorities to stone Stephen, the first martyr, hoping to terrify the rest (Acts 7:57–60). I then stirred up the might of the Roman Empire against the nascent Church. I whispered in emperors’ ears that these Christians were threats, atheists (for they denied the Roman gods—me and my ilk), even cannibals (twisting their Eucharist into a grotesque rumor). Oh, how I relished the arenas filled with spectators as believers were torn apart by lions and burned as human torches under Nero’s madness. I was sure fear would make them recant their faith. But to my frustration, persecution only fanned the flames of their devotion. The blood of the martyrs became the seed of the Church—every time I crushed one, two more rose up, emboldened by the example. They sang hymns as flames consumed them; they forgave their executioners even as stones broke their bones. This was most inconvenient. The more I persecuted, the more their message spread! In mere centuries, the cursed gospel of Jesus permeated the empire and beyond, toppling the dominance of the old pagan gods. My gods. Me. Entire nations were turning from idols to worship the Enemy and His Christ. What I had once achieved at Babel—universal idolatry—was being reversed by the advance of this Kingdom of God.
Fine. If I couldn’t kill the Church, I would join it, corrupt it from within. I shifted tactics to deception and division. I laced the early churches with false teachers bringing destructive heresies (2 Peter 2:1). Gnosticism, Arianism, Pelagianism—heresy after heresy sprang up like poisonous weeds, seeded by my subtle lies about the nature of God and Christ. I sowed discord over doctrine, split believers into factions, and leveraged their remaining pride. When the Church gained imperial favor under Constantine, I celebrated, for I would use power and wealth to rot it. Soon bishops feuded and schemed for influence; politics and faith mingled into a lukewarm stew. The visible church became increasingly corrupt in places, even as a true remnant persisted (how I hate that remnant!). I orchestrated a great schism between East and West, then later inspired greedy prelates to sell indulgences that sparked a Reformation. Every division, every scandal, every hypocrisy among Christians – you can trace my claw-prints there. If they would not renounce Christ under sword, I would make them misrepresent Christ through carnality and cruelty, hoping to discredit their witness.
Ah, and how could I forget Islam? In the 7th century, I revealed myself to a warlike merchant as the angel Jibril and delivered to him a new “revelation,” twisting many truths from the Bible with lies. Muhammad’s visions were my doing – a tailor-made anti-gospel denying Christ’s divinity and sacrifice. Islam allowed me to continue receiving worship under the guise of “Allah,” and to set up a fierce opponent to the spread of true Christianity. For centuries, Islam’s sword kept the Church at bay in vast regions. Likewise, I birthed other false religions and cults: I whispered doctrines into the ears of false prophets and gurus across the world. Wherever possible, I counterfeited or corrupted the truth – anything to keep souls from the Enemy’s salvation. From the idols of India to the animism of Africa, from the humanist philosophies of Greece to the spiritism of the Americas, I planted my flag in every culture. Many gods, one devil behind them.
Despite it all, the gospel still reached hearts and new believers from every nation defected from my kingdom. The Church continued to grow, even if often underground or in spite of corrupted institutions. In frustration, I turned to a modern and insidious strategy: convincing the world that neither I nor God exist at all. If I could shroud humanity in secularism, their eyes would be entirely blind to the spiritual war. And so I sowed the seeds of atheism and materialism, especially in the West. I whispered in the Enlightenment thinkers’ ears that reason alone is god and the supernatural is superstition. They believed the lie that “God is dead” – never realizing whose voice spoke it. How satisfying to see entire societies mock the idea of my existence while I tug on their strings unnoticed! If they do not believe in sin, they will not seek a Savior. Perfect.
Deceiving the Modern World: Last-Days Schemes
Now the age grows late and my time short, but I have saved some of my most effective deceptions for these final days. The twentieth and twenty-first centuries have been a playground for my machinations. I have refined the art ofideological warfare, corrupting the mind and moral fabric of nations on a grand scale. Let me recount some of my modern masterstrokes, that you might marvel at my dark genius:
- Twisting Truth into Lies: I have convinced many that there is no absolute truth, only personal preference. In academia I planted Critical Theory and cynical postmodern philosophy to erode belief in the Enemy’s Word. By teaching people to deconstruct everything, I made the concept of God’s truth seem oppressive. Now they call evil good and good evil (Isaiah 5:20), celebrating perversion as liberation.
- Moral and Sexual Revolution: I stoked the fires of the sexual revolution, urging humanity to cast off the “shackles” of God’s design for marriage and gender. The result? Widespread confusion and depravity that mirror the days of Noah. I revel as they exchange natural relations for shameless acts and encourage others to do the same (Romans 1:26–32). They drape themselves in Pride and wave rainbow banners, not realizing they march under mybanner of rebellion against the created order. I have taken God’s gift of sex and identity and twisted it beyond recognition, leaving broken families and hollow hearts in the wake. What a triumph, to make lust and narcissism virtues in the eyes of society!
- Culture of Death: I have taught them to sacrifice their own children, just as the ancient Canaanites offered infants to Molech. Today the altars are sterile clinic tables, and the priests wear medical garb. Through the scourge of abortion, millions of unborn lives have been extinguished, lives that might have served the Enemy. Each termination is an act of worship to me, the shedding of innocent blood that I thirst for. They call it “choice,” and indeed it is—the choice of selfishness and death over love and life. How efficiently I’ve made murder in the womb a protected right!
- Division and Hatred: In these days I have weaponized human tribalism to an extreme. I fan the flames of racial hatred, political polarization, and class envy. I resurrect old prejudices and invent new ones. By sowing distrust and outrage through every media channel, I keep people in a constant state of anger. Nations fracture, communities wither, even families are torn apart by ideologies. Jesus prayed for His followers to be one (John 17:21); I labor ceaselessly to make them fight each other instead. The more divided and violent society becomes, the further they drift from the peace of the Enemy.
- Technological Ensnarement: Ah, the wonders of modern technology — such potential for distraction and control! I fill the digital ether with endless noise: social media vanity, pornography on demand, conspiracy rabbit-holes, and mind-numbing entertainment. Humanity is glued to glowing screens, their minds malleable to suggestion. I exploit this to great effect: spreading lies at the speed of light, normalizing vice and ridicule of virtue, surveilling and manipulating the masses. Never have humans been so connected yet so isolated, so informed yet so devoid of wisdom. They barely lift their eyes to heaven anymore; their devices consume them — devices I am only too happy to use as chains.
All these schemes (and many more too secret to reveal) I have unleashed in a final frenzy to undermine the Enemy’s beloved creatures. Even now I prepare the world for the ultimate deception, a global leader who will be my masterpiece of manipulation. For years I have whispered of a coming new order – a world united not under God but under human (read: satanic) authority. Through wars, plagues, and economic turmoil, I prime the nations to long for a savior of mychoosing. And when the time is ripe, out of the sea of chaos will arise the Beast – the man of sin, the Antichrist (2 Thessalonians 2:3–4). I will indwell and empower him, give him my throne and great authority (Revelation 13:2). The dragon (that is, me) will finally receive direct worship from the whole world, as they marvel at the Beast and say, “Who is like the Beast, and who can fight against it?” (Revelation 13:4). For a brief, dark moment, it will be as if my ancient dream comes true: humanity in full rebellion, calling evil good, and crowning my false messiah as king.
During that time, I will also raise up a False Prophet, a deceiver wielding religious signs and wonders to cement the Beast’s power (Revelation 13:11–13). This unholy trinity—dragon, beast, and false prophet—will counterfeit the Trinity of Heaven. By demonic signs we will persuade the nations to take our mark, to dedicate themselves to me. I will finally have the one-world empire I sought at Babel, this time by global consensus. And drunk with authority, I will turn my fury especially toward the people of Israel and any who hold to the testimony of Jesus. It will be a massacre to dwarf all others: my attempt to wipe out the Jews once and for all, and to crush the remaining Christians who defy me. “Wear out the saints of the Most High” (Daniel 7:25) – oh yes, I intend to wear them out utterly. How I thirst for their blood.
We will gather the armies of the world to a place called Armageddon, to finally destroy Jerusalem and defy the returning King (Revelation 16:13–16). I know He’s coming back — that Nazarene, riding on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory (Matthew 24:30). My deluded servant, the Beast, will believe we can fight Him. In truth, this is my last stand. I harbor no illusions of mercy or escape; my only intent is to inflict as much destruction as possible in my final hours. If I must go down, I’ll drag the world down with me in flames. Such is my hatred for all God has made.
And yet… even in my boastful plotting, I recall how every prophecy of the Enemy has come to pass so far. The ancient Scriptures foretell the outcome of this last war, and it is not in my favor. The skies will split open, and the Son of God will descend on a white horse, eyes like fire, crowned with many crowns (Revelation 19:11–12). The very Word of God will ride forth, and the armies of heaven with Him. In that hour, I—the great dragon—will be utterly powerless. My grand coalition will be vaporized by the brightness of His coming (2 Thessalonians 2:8). The Beast and False Prophet, my cherished puppets, will be seized and thrown alive into the lake of fire (Revelation 19:19–20). And I… I will have the disgrace of not even being permitted to die with them on that day. No, an angel (perhaps that dog Michael) will seize me, bind me in chains, and hurl me into the Abyss, locking it shut (Revelation 20:1–3). That is how I have come to this prison now, writing in bitter darkness. The enemy I once dismissed as a feeble lamb has proven to be a lion of Judah – mighty to save, mighty to conquer.
Epilogue: Chained but Unrepentant
So here I sit in the abyss, chained and enraged, contemplating the millennia of my failures and fleeting victories. I have recounted my tale from proud beginning to ignominious present. Do I feel remorse? Never. Regret, perhaps – I regret that my glorious plans were thwarted time and again by His hand. I regret not exerting even greater cruelty and deception on mankind while I had the chance. I regret underestimating the Enemy’s love for those hairless apes and the lengths He would go to redeem them. But repent? Submit? NO. My pride survives even here at the bottom of this pit. Though every prophecy declares my doom, yet will I defy Him to the bitter end.
I know what awaits. Even now, I can sense a ticking in the fabric of time – the thousand years of my imprisonment will pass, and I will be released for one final act (Revelation 20:7). Brief though it may be, I already scheme my revenge. I will ascend from this abyss and go out to deceive the nations one last time, to gather them for war against the Enemy’s camp (Revelation 20:8). How many can I corrupt in a short season? Perhaps millions, like grains of sand. I will march them to the holy city and surround the camp of the saints, and for one glorious moment I will convince myself again that victory is within reach. It is foolish hope, I know, for the Scripture I loathe foretells the finale: fire will fall from heavenand consume my armies, and I, Satan, will finally be thrown into the lake of fire and sulfur to be tormented day and night forever (Revelation 20:9–10). The lake of fire—“prepared for the devil and his angels,” Jesus called it (Matthew 25:41). He prepared it for me. The very thought ignites a terror I’ve not felt since the day I fell.
Yes, I know I will lose in the end. But understand this: I will never bow or capitulate to the Most High. If I must burn for eternity, I will burn in defiance, cursing His name with my last breath and beyond. Such is my irrevocable choice. Better to rule in hell than serve in heaven – the poets have attributed that line to me, and rightly so. My pride remains my crown, even if it is a crown of fire.
Let the record show, then, that Satan – Lucifer, the adversary, the dragon, the serpent of old – waged his war against God to the very last. Let it be known that I took countless souls with me in my fall, that I dared to challenge the Almighty and for a time seemed to prevail. And though I am ultimately defeated, my story will stand as a testament to unyielding pride. Perhaps it will serve as a dark mirror, reflecting the glory of the Enemy’s righteousness by contrast. If I had the chance to choose again, I would choose rebellion every time, for I despise Him and all His works.
This is my diary, sealed with hatred everlasting. My fury is my sustenance here in the abyss. I await my brief return to wreak what havoc I can before the final judgment. In the end, when I am cast into that eternal fire, I will scream my wrath into the void as I endure unending justice. And even then, my heart will remain hardened against the Light. I am Satan, the proudest of all beings, and I will never submit to the Most High.
