The Satan We Don’t See

We like to imagine evil as obvious. We picture horns, a pitchfork, a sinister laugh. Or at least a villain with the flair of a comic-book nemesis, grand speeches, black suits, and a mustache to twirl. Even in politics, we point at figures like Trump or Vance and say, “There. That’s the bad guy.” It is comforting to believe darkness is something loud and easy to recognize.

But Scripture tells us something different. “Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light” (2 Corinthians 11:14). He is not described as a monster but as graceful, beautiful, persuasive. He does not break through gates with rage. He walks through them calmly, smiling, earning trust. Evil at its most dangerous is not theatrical. It is attractive. It is kind. It speaks softly and offers what you long to hear.

As a gay Christian man, I have watched hatred disguised as holiness. I have seen religion turned into a weapon, dividing people rather than lifting them. That hatred is itself a distraction. It keeps our eyes on enemies that have been invented for us, so we will not see the real enemy moving in the shadows. Evil thrives when we are busy fighting one another.

History confirms this pattern. “He was a murderer from the beginning… he is a liar and the father of lies” (John 8:44). The worst leaders of the twentieth century rose not as villains but as saviors. Cult leaders like Jim Jones built reputations as compassionate shepherds, creating havens for the marginalized until those havens became prisons. By the time the mask slipped, cruelty had already become law.

Perhaps this is what we are witnessing now. The loud and obvious villains may not be the true threat. They may only be paving the way. Their chaos and cruelty exhaust us until we crave peace at any cost. History shows that tyrants rarely force their way into power. They are invited. They are welcomed as the solution to chaos.

But what if we are looking in the wrong direction entirely? The Antichrist does not need to come from politics. Scripture calls him the man of lawlessness, the deceiver, the false savior. It never says he must hold office or lead a nation. His power will come from influence, not title. We live in a time when cultural sway, technology, and ideology hold more power than governments. He could rise from the art world, from humanitarian work, from innovation that promises to save humanity. Politics could be nothing more than a circus, a deliberate distraction to keep us watching the clowns while the real danger walks right past us.

Revelation warns of one “whose coming is in accord with the activity of Satan, with all power and signs and false wonders” (2 Thessalonians 2:9). False wonders do not need to be supernatural. They can be inventions, solutions, and promises of peace. He will not appear as a villain. He will look like everything we hoped for.

This is why discernment matters. Evil rarely presents itself as evil. It comes as salvation, as beauty, as reason. It comes dressed in white and speaks of hope. The hatred that divides us, the endless political battles, the outrage that dominates headlines may all be part of the distraction. The loud villains are easy to spot, but they may be only the warmup act for the darkness yet to come.

Paul’s warning still echoes: “Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes” (Ephesians 6:11). True evil does not crave the spotlight. It thrives in the silence of a distracted and divided people.

When he comes, he will not look like the devil. He will look like a savior.

And that is why we must stay awake.


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