If I were the Devil, I wouldn’t storm into churches with fire and hate. I’d start small, with the kids. I’d take prayer and the Bible out of schools so they’d grow up thinking faith belongs in secret, not in real life. I’d whisper that Sundays are just another day — better spent shopping, playing sports, or running around — until no one remembered it was meant to be holy.
I’d break apart families by making divorce look normal, no big deal, just another option like changing jobs. Kids would grow up without stability and without the example of a lasting, faithful love. Then I’d blast their ears with endless noise — flashing screens, MTV, music about rebellion and lust — until self-worship became their anthem. I’d convince them that selfishness is a good thing, that life is about chasing happiness instead of sacrifice, service, or holiness. By the time they grew up, they wouldn’t even realize what they had lost. All they would know is that life felt louder, faster, and emptier — exactly how I wanted it.
If I were the Devil, I’d take what people once hid in shame and make it normal. I’d turn pornography into something casual, “just for fun,” while it quietly poisoned hearts. I’d make it easy to find, private, and addictive — first in magazines, then all over the internet. I’d twist love and intimacy until people could hardly recognize the real thing.
I’d replace fathers, mothers, and pastors with celebrities. Instead of looking to family for wisdom, kids would follow athletes, actors, and pop stars who preach vanity, indulgence, and rebellion. In schools, I’d slowly change truth. I’d teach evolution as if it were the only story, and I’d make morality sound like just a matter of opinion. No absolute truth. No God.
In the churches, I wouldn’t destroy them. I’d hollow them out. I’d grow their numbers but water down their message — swapping repentance and holiness for entertainment and motivational speeches. Families would be too busy to notice what was missing. Between practices, rehearsals, and tournaments, church would become optional, family dinners would disappear, and faith would be crowded out. After a generation, people would be so distracted and exhausted that they wouldn’t even notice their souls had been traded for pleasure, applause, and busyness.
If I were the Devil, I’d put a glowing screen in every hand. I’d make sure it was the first thing people turned to when they were anxious, lonely, or bored. With endless scrolling, I’d train their brains to hate silence so much that prayer would feel impossible.
I’d take what God made clear — marriage, gender, identity — and twist it, until simply repeating God’s truth would get someone labeled hateful. I’d flood the world with “spiritual” counterfeits: crystals, horoscopes, meditation apps, and “manifesting.” People would think they were finding peace while drifting further from God.
I wouldn’t shrink the church with persecution. I’d shrink it with apathy. After the pandemic, many never went back to church. I’d keep them comfortable at home, convincing them worship was optional. And for the ones who still went, I’d turn church into a product. If they didn’t like a sermon, they’d just switch pastors. If it got uncomfortable, they’d leave. They’d call themselves “spiritual” but never actually bow to God — all while bowing to me.
If I were the Devil, I’d even make the church my playground. I’d turn sanctuaries into theaters, filled with lights, fog machines, and performances designed to entertain, not convict. Reverence would disappear. Repentance would be replaced with motivational talks. Instead of hunger for holiness, people would crave feel-good experiences. They’d leave asking not “Was God glorified?” but “Did I enjoy it?” The church would still be full of excitement and activity — but empty of truth, power, and the Spirit of God.
If I were the Devil, I’d blur the very image of God in creation. I’d tell men they could be women, and women they could be men, erasing His design and leaving only confusion. I’d call abortion “helpful” and “empowering,” instead of what it really is — the ending of a life. People would celebrate it as freedom while ignoring the destruction it brings. I’d twist equality too, making it about sameness instead of value, convincing men and women to give up their God-given strengths and roles. Families would fracture, children would suffer, and society would celebrate it as progress — all while I laughed.
If I were the Devil, I wouldn’t need to wipe out faith. I’d only need to distort it. I’d drown out prayer and Scripture with constant noise, sports, and entertainment, until people treated them like chores instead of lifelines. I’d tell Christians that comfort is the goal, not sacrifice — that the cross is too heavy, but happiness is their right.
I’d teach them to build their identity on anything but Christ: their job, politics, sexuality, money, or popularity. I’d turn believers against each other, stirring up fights over race, politics, and denominations. I’d make sure online arguments tore the church apart until its witness grew weak.
In the end, they would still meet, still sing, still call themselves Christians. But they would be distracted, divided, and powerless — conquered without even realizing whose voice they had been listening to all along.
Joy in Truth 