Read Inside Lucifer's War for Free Online

perfection, so I vowed to destroy you and ultimately him.”
    He says these words in a cold, calculating manner. If there is rage inside of him, I can’t see it from his expression.
    “And Jesus?” I ask, “How does he fit into this?”
    Lucifer’s expression immediately changes. His eyes squint, and his lips purse in what seems like anger. His comments seem slower and more controlled, “We will speak of him only at this one instance, but you will never say his name again in my presence. It is beyond your grasp to understand, but I will do my best to explain him in your terms. He is part of the triune God. He has always been. He, the Father, and the Spirit are one but separate. He created all things. He created me. He created humans. All things were created through him. In your understanding, he is the expression of God.”
    He pauses and stares into the distance for a moment. “I gave him the opportunity to rule with me, to be one with me, but he rejected me. Instead, he chose you. He chose to be a sacrifice for you. To accept the Father’s wrath for your sin. He chose to speak against me and to lead God’s will. So when he was vulnerable, I encouraged the world to kill him. It wasn’t hard—a spark here, a word there, a veiled threat—and the world rejected him as I knew they would. He died inconsequentially on a tree in a manner reserved for criminals. His teachings go on, but I’m slowly taking care of that as well. That is the end of his story.”
    “If he is God, how could humans kill God?” I ask.
    I see Lucifer’s anger rising. “He made himself vulnerable by coming to earth as a man. He made himself weak.”
    “But—” I stop myself because I see rage building in his face.
    “But what?” he asks sharply.
    I stammer a bit, “Well, according to the Bible, that’s not the end of the story. Is the Bible accurate?”
    He stares at me without saying a word. His expression is intense. I sit nervously, waiting for a response. His manner reminds me of how movie detectives interrogate a suspect. The detective looks long and hard at the suspect, waiting for the suspect to break the silence. If I knew what to say, I would say it.
    Finally, he speaks. “You tell me. Your whole life you have rejected the Bible. You rejected it to your parents when you were a youth and later again to your father as his life failed him. You reject it today in your writings and philosophy and in your casual conversations. Now, in front of me, you ask me about the truth in the Bible. You are smart, Thomas. I know these have been trying moments for you, but I have not harmed your brain. Do not forsake your intellect. The Old Testament contains some wisdom and nuggets of truth, but the rest of the story is a fantasy contrived by a desperate group of people. Jesus was killed. They needed something to keep the story going, so they contrived the New Testament.”
    “It is a fanciful story . . . Certainly not a story I would have invented,” I say, nodding to him.
    “Then we are done with this subject,” he says.
    He pauses again, flutters for a moment, then resumes. “As I was saying, because of humanity and God’s devotion to its creation, I am now without the glory that is rightfully mine. But I shall have it back. As I mentioned, Thomas, you will be a part of that glory.”
    “I don’t understand,” I say. “How am I a part of this?”
    “You will understand. As I did from the ancient of times with the angels, and as I do today with those angels who chose to follow me, I will reveal things to you as I deem appropriate. For now, though, you need to understand one simple thing: your eternal life depends on how you respond to me now. Whether you see me as a kind figure or a wretched, hideous being who speaks to you in a serpent’s tongue, or whether the disciples worship you and do your bidding or eat out your intestines, or whether you feel elated or ill. All depends on your allegiance and obedience to me in your