I turned towards home. The dog stopped to sniff at something. Ahead in the middle of the road squawked a raven. That herald of evil, that black bird which is not so much a symbol of evil as representative of the havoc and chaos that lies in evil’s wake pecked at garbage in the street. Out of the corner of my eye, floating into the dark trees behind, I saw the mist rising up. It rose like incense at a ceremony, like the wispy smoke of candles at a ritual, like the sulfurous fumes of brimstone. The raven shifted about from foot to foot. It kept glancing my way, turning this way or that to try to make itself invisible. It kept low upon the dewy drenched road. I heard gunshots. (Probably, the state boys trying to scare the geese off the runway before the arrival of the morning jet.) I knew there would be three shots; like the someone intoning a bell. The raven was afraid of me and my dog; my familiar; that primordial friend of man.
I have read many interpretations of the armor of God. Most understandable to me was that Christ is armed with the Word; the Way, the Truth, the Logos and shielded by faith. Satan’s weapon of choice is “Fear”. I pondered these words many times without applying them in the simplest terms. As Christians, we know the power of the Word and Faith. Satan knows fear.
The devil is afraid!
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