Dear Littlewick

Before reading this, you have to understand this letter is addressed to Littlewick, the name I have given my personal tempter. C.S. Lewis wrote The Screwtape Letters, messages from one demon that were written to another on how to strategically and covertly stray a man, the ‘patient,’ from being with God through Jesus Christ. I used to struggle believing in a spiritual world with demons that personally attack you, until I started surrendering over my life to Christ. This is my break up letter to Littlewick, named so because these ‘powers’ of Satan are harmless and little as long as they’re fought off in the name of Jesus and not given a flame. The problem is, the world has forgotten that.


Dear Littlewick,

You know quite a deal about me, and I am flattered by the gravity of concern you have for my life. Looking back, I can see where you have been, where you have had your meddling. Before I was even brought into this world you were scheming as to how you could work me to center my life around this world. You’ve been incredibly cunning, I’ll give you that much. As Screwtape has said, we mortals often think of your kind as putting things into our minds, when in reality your best work is when the very thing we need to live is kept out. How foolish! Don’t you know that the darkness can never overcome the light? Oh, Littlewick, your name is suitable for when I don’t provide the matches for you to burn my hope. And though I have just become aware of our relationship, I’m afraid (rejoicing) that this has come to an end. Need I explain?

We have to break up. I know your existence thrives on this, but I am no longer yours. I am His. I belong to the One you tremble at. I belong to the Ally, the Father you mock in cowardice and call ‘Enemy,’ though He provides all that we need. The relationship you and I had is not just over, it’s decimated. It’s certainly not forgotten, and here’s why: my selfishly willed past surrounded by your whisperings gives me now a pitch black backdrop on which the Gospel contrasts so brightly that it rescues not only myself, but my lost brothers and sisters. I see His grace and mercy because of what I looked like without it. Yes, you have had your hand in shaping my testimony, and I recognize my rebellion against the Father was my choice. At times I still hear your laughter in the form of doubts and self-degradation, but because my past depravity isn’t forgotten, I can remember it is forgiven.

I am forgiven.

Do you remember when your colleagues worked in peers of mine in the seventh grade? Of course you do, you were very delighted. For the sake of my own memory, and my victory, allow me to recall. They were three kids my age on the track, different from me in color. You tried telling me that was something to fear. I wouldn’t listen. But you did have me listen to what they were saying about the Ally’s Cross that hung around my neck. They pointed at my Jesus and mocked Him, “God’s not going to help you around here,” as if He would ever leave me. Yet, you were crafty, having me listen. I had no idea the effect that had on me until years after. I subconsciously placed deep within a doubt of Who He was (and is, and is to come), and thus forgot who I was: redeemed. I was far from the Truth, Littlewick.

From then on, it took six or so years of loneliness, false relationships, puberty, and putting my identity in performance and possession to come to the Father. As my tempter, striving to pull me away from Him, you were with me in that wide valley, but it seems that we both forgot one thing: He is the mountain. From every side He has total view and total command. That is my victory: finding Him, only because He always knew where I was. You may try to defeat me, Littlewick, but the war was won long before He created me, even you.

I am done cheating on Him, on my Savior. I’m done trading Him for the love and pursuit of this fragile, temporary world, for satisfaction in the creation and not the Creator. I’m instead trading myself. As He has given up Himself on the Cross for the traitor and vapor that I am, as He gave up the riches of His Kingdom for the dirt and clay, I too take up my cross and leave behind my meek and lowly slum disguised as a palace.

I am done resting my head in a pillow and crying over the temporal. I’m ready to rest my all on Him and to cry tears of joy at what is grace.

Never again will I forget these facts: that He died only to rise, conquering the sin of mankind He saw full well at Gethsemane. Never again will I question Who He is, because out of His great love for us mortals, He plotted out thousands of years to confirm His love for us. Nothing can threaten the weight of the Truth. Littlewick, how could I deny the over 350 prophecies, written hundreds of years prior to His time on earth and fulfilled within His 33 years here? How could I deny the hate and passion both Romans and Jewish leaders had for Him, that they badly desired to stomp out the revolution He was unfolding for the ages, and not stand in awe that His Sovereignty still persists today? Listen. How could I ever mistake Paul’s transformation and all the boldness and stubbornness of Christ’s disciples for a mere fairy tale? How absurd your claims are, Littlewick. God is forevermore.

Finally, please give this message to your father below: Game on.

No longer yours truly,

A Child of God

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