When I was a child, the devil felt like an evil character in a fairy tale, complete with horns and a pitchfork. When I was a teenager, he seemed like someone whose name you never mentioned – almost as if speaking his name would serve as a summons. As a younger woman, I rarely gave the devil any thought at all as I was too consumed with raising a whole brood of little people. But as I mature into a wiser, older woman, I think of the devil for what he is – a liar, my accuser, and the enemy.
The devil has been lying since he met Eve in the garden. I’ve associated him so much with lies that I was recently challenged with the thought that sometimes he tells the truth. His accusations against me are loud and constant, and they take up a lot of my head space at times. And when I hear him accusing me of something, I want so badly to defend myself and shout back, “That’s not true, you’re a liar!” But what if he’s right? What happens when I am all the things he says I am? What if I have done all the things he accuses me of? What happens when the devil tells the truth about me?