Context: Inspired by C.S. Lewis’s classic – The Screwtape Letters, this fictional series features letters from a senior demon to his young protégé, exposing hell’s subtle strategies against believers. These are not meant to amuse, but to awaken.

This isn’t just satire – it’s a mirror. A sharp one. Because sometimes the enemy’s strategies sound uncomfortably familiar.

My dear Wormwood,

You mentioned the patient is starting to seek God about purpose, how tragic. If he ever discovers that purpose isn’t a performance but a Person, we’re in trouble. So act quickly.

Your task now is not to tempt him with blatant rebellion, but with holy ambition gone sour. Let him believe that if he’s not famous, he’s not faithful. That if his work is hidden, it’s not worthwhile. 

Comparison is the dagger. Instagram in his case is the sheath.

Fan the flames of jealousy with every scroll. If another believer shares a testimony, twist it into a trigger. If a peer gets an opportunity, let your patient feel overlooked. And when he finally does something “for God,” whisper in his ear: Did anyone notice?

Here’s a trick I’ve found helpful, convince him that fruitfulness means virality. That being called means being celebrated. That the ones God uses are always in front. 

Do this well and he’ll begin to despise the field God planted him in. He’ll dig up his assignment, looking for someone else’s.

Oh, and whatever you do, never under any circumstances let him linger over John 21. That dreadful scene where the Enemy, after restoring Peter, answered his question about John with those ruinous words: “What is that to you? You follow Me.” (v. 22).

Do you realise how much damage that single verse has done to our work? We’ve lost many a promising soul to it. For in that moment, the Nazarene exposed one of our most effective snares – comparison. Peter had just been forgiven, reinstated, and given his calling anew. Yet instead of resting in his mission, he turned to glance at another disciple, weighing his own journey against someone else’s. If they take this verse to heart, they begin to see the poison for what it is.

When they grasp its meaning, they stop obsessing over why others seem to have easier paths, bigger platforms, or more recognition. They cease resenting the different trials or blessings allotted to them. And when that happens, our work becomes infinitely harder, for a contented Christian is dangerous, they spend their energy obeying instead of envying.

We have lost souls because this verse has closed the door on our whispers of “Look at them… why not you?” It has silenced the discontent that drives them to pride or despair. It has stripped us of our ability to keep them trapped in endless comparison, measuring their worth by another’s race instead of fixing their eyes on the finish line set before them. And once their gaze is fixed on the Enemy alone, they become steady, untouchable, and alarmingly fruitful.

Comparison has ruined more ministries than scandal ever could. It doesn’t need to be loud, it just needs to be constant. A quiet ache of never enough. A nudge that his calling is too small. Make him believe that the spotlight is the reward not obedience.

If you can keep him scrolling, sighing, second-guessing, then you’ve succeeded in what I call a silent derailment. He’ll still show up, still sing, still serve… but his heart will be eaten from the inside out.

Brilliant, isn’t it?

Your calculating uncle,
Screwtape