If I were the devil, a sequel

If I were the devil,

I would not come with fire and fangs,

But with feelings—soft, soothing, deceptive.

I would not roar—I would whisper.

Whisper until your soul sang lullabies in chains.

I would cradle a generation in emotionalism,

Make feelings their compass,

Make truth seem cruel,

And boundaries the enemy of love.

I would teach them to worship their wounds,

To wear offense like armor,

And to name their pain “identity.”

I would declare war on holiness with charm.

I would poison their hunger for righteousness

With a gospel made of glitter—

All shine, no sanctification.

I would convince them that conviction is abuse,

That correction is control,

That to be separate is to be hateful—

That to be like Christ is to never confront.

If I were the devil,

I would preach a gospel of comfort,

Not of crosses.

A gospel where tears replace truth,

And goosebumps take the place of God.

I would build golden calves of emotion

In the sacred places once reserved for the Spirit.

I would whisper:

“You are a victim. Always.

You are owed.

You are right.

You are the center.”

And they would listen.

Because it would feel good.

Because it would feel holy.

I would make sure they believed

That they could blend in and still burn bright.

That compromise is compassion.

That lukewarm is loving.

That they can sip from the cup of demons

And still feast at the Lord’s table.

I would tell them that happiness is the highest goal, That holiness is outdated,

That repentance is optional,

And that the fear of the Lord is religious trauma.

If I were the devil,

I would not need to curse them—

Just convince them

That they can be carnal and Christian,

Worldly and washed,

Anointed and apathetic—

All at once.

But I am not the devil.

And I will not be silent.

Church, awaken.

There is no revival without repentance.

There is no power without purity.

There is no fire without sacrifice.

There is no Christ without the cross.

Let us tear down our golden calves,

Let us rise from the altars of emotion,

And return—heart, mind, soul, and strength—

To the altar of the Living God.

For He alone is worthy.

And He is not impressed by our tears

If they do not lead to transformation.