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The first is from Luke 10. The seventy-two return from their preaching efforts and report back to Jesus: “Lord, even the demons submit to us in your name.” And Jesus responds to them, “I watched Satan fall from heaven like lightning."
The second story is from Matthew 12. Jesus has performed an exorcism and the Jewish leaders accuse Jesus of being in league with the Devil. Jesus responds by saying that if Satan is being used to cast out Satan then a house divided cannot stand for long. And then Jesus says this: "If I drive out demons by the Spirit of God, then the kingdom of God has come upon you."
The point couldn't be clearer: Jesus describes the advance of the kingdom as reclaiming territory once held by Satan. As the kingdom advances Satan falls from heaven like lightning. And as Jesus releases those under Satan's power that is a sign that the kingdom of God has come upon us.
1 John 3.8 states it plainly: "The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil."
Simply put, the kingdom of God comes as an exorcism.
The name "Satan" means adversary, opponent, antagonist, or enemy. "Satan" is, therefore, a name for a relation, pointing at that which stands opposed. Set aside, for a moment, any definite view about Satan's metaphysical existence. What is obvious on the pages of the gospel and in our own lives is that the kingdom of God is contested. Jesus doesn't operate in a morally or spiritually neutral space. His work faces headwinds and stiff opposition. This is why Jesus describes his work as liberating and emancipatory. A prior condition of bondage and captivity is assumed. True, conservatives tend to view that bondage as moral or spiritual (sin) whereas progressives view it as political (oppression and exploitation). A full reading of Scripture sees a Gestalt here, a moral, spiritual, and political matrix, instead of splitting the baby. Regardless, everyone views Jesus’ work as addressing some prior state of captivity.
Here's how C.S. Lewis described the Biblical imagination:
Enemy-occupied territory, that is what this world is. Christianity is the story of how the rightful king has landed, you might say landed in disguise, and is calling us to take part in a great campaign of sabotage.
I also think Flannery O'Connor's description of her fiction is an apt vision for the work of Jesus in the gospels: "My subject in fiction is the action of grace in territory largely held by the devil." That's the work of the kingdom, the action of grace in territory held by the devil.
Turning toward our own lives, we experience this same sort of opposition. Grace, love, truth, mercy, justice, and love are everywhere contested. Especially in our own hearts. As Alexander Solzhenitsyn famously put it, the line separating good and evil runs through every human heart. Consequently, we experience life as a moral and spiritual struggle. Here's how William James described our experience:
If this life is not a real fight, in which something is eternally gained for the universe by success, it is no better than a game of private theatricals from which one may withdraw at will. But it feels like a real fight.
Again, set metaphysics aside. Experientially, we're in a fight. Goodness, in the world and in my heart, is contested. "Satan" names this contest and fight, all the forces opposed and antagonistic toward goodness.
And yet, it's here with the word "fight" where some worries creep in. A concern about talk of "spiritual warfare" is with the word "warfare." Doesn't all this talk of fighting and warfare tempt us to name others as the Satan, as our enemy and opponent? Doesn't all this devil-talk tempt us toward the demonization of others?
Let me call bullshit on that worry. Humans dehumanize other humans. And this isn't due to "devil talk." It's due to group psychology, self-interest, and fear. True, groups will use their religious systems to justify their hostility, scapegoating, and violence toward others. But you're mistaking the cart for the horse. Consequently, it is naive to think that if you evacuate your group of religious language you've achieved some sort of immunity to dehumanization. Worse, by eliminating religious language you've also eliminated your prophetic capacities to call out the darkness. It's true that moral relativism creates a "live and let live" tolerance, but moral relativism is impotent when the world goes sideways and history becomes a moral dumpster fire. That's the moral irony of the liberal humanist.
The better path is to retain the language of good and evil but to precisely define those terms. Truly, there are evil things afoot in the world. We're in a real fight. Goodness and justice are contested. So let's not get shy about defending the light. The tricky part is how slippery those labels "good" and "evil" can become. Scripture is aware of this. As 2 Corinthians 11:14 says, Satan appears to us as an angel of light. We do evil things in the name of good.
Given this threat, Jesus gives a clear definition for what must be labeled as "Satanic." From Mark 8:
Then Jesus began to teach them that it was necessary for the Son of Man to suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, be killed, and rise after three days. He spoke openly about this. Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning around and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan!"
Recall, "Satan" is a term of relation. And Jesus calls Peter "Satan" because he's tempting Jesus away from the cross. Here, then, we have the definition of Satan. Satan names that which is opposed to the cross, all that which is opposed to self-donating love, even for one's enemies. Such love isn't natural or easy. It will be contested, just like Peter contests it. But most importantly, what we have here is a cruciform definition for this battle, struggle, and fight. The military metaphor of spiritual warfare is flipped on its head. Jesus wins a victory by dying for others. And our own victory traces this same sacrificial shape. So the language of "Satan" isn't the problem, it's losing track of the cruciform vision of the good.
Now, is that vision contested? You bet it is.
We're in a real fight.
