Lord Foulgrin's Letters

Lord Foulgrin's Letters

by Randy Alcorn
Lord Foulgrin's Letters

Lord Foulgrin's Letters

by Randy Alcorn

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Overview

Randy Alcorn's gripping new masterpiece delivers us from ignorance of the devil's schemes. Foulgrin, a high-ranking demon, instructs his subordinate on how to deceive and destroy Jordan Fletcher and his family. It's like placing a bugging device in hell's war room, where we overhear our enemies assessing our weaknesses and strategizing attack. Lord Foulgrin's Letters is a Screwtape Letters for our day, equally fascinating yet distinctly different-a dramatic story with earthly characters, setting, and plot. A creative, insightful, and biblical depiction of spiritual warfare, this book will guide readers to Christ-honoring counterstrategies for putting on the full armor of God and resisting the devil. Alcorn says to win the battle we must know our God, know ourselves, and know our enemy. Lord Foulgrin's Letters, in unparalleled and compelling fashion, helps us better know each.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781588601131
Publisher: The Crown Publishing Group
Publication date: 01/18/2012
Sold by: Random House
Format: eBook
Pages: 320
Sales rank: 953,444
File size: 2 MB

About the Author

Randy Alcorn is the founder and director of Eternal Perspectives Ministries and a New York Times bestselling author of 50-some books, including Heaven and Face to Face with Jesus. His books have sold over 11 million copies and been translated into more than 70 languages. Randy lives in Oregon with his wife, Nanci. They have two grown daughters and five grandchildren.

Read an Excerpt




Chapter One


IT DOESN'T GET
ANY BETTER?


Shirtless, Jordan Fletcher kicked back on the lounge chair on the sunny deck of his new house at Sunriver, basking in the high desert beauty of Central Oregon. He'd always longed to have a special place of his own. Now it was his—and no one could take it from him.

    Jordan's wife, Diane, sat five feet away reading her novel, but it may as well have been five miles. They inhabited two different worlds. He found it easier to avoid conversation, since it usually ended up in a laundry list of ways he'd let her down or things she wanted him to do. High maintenance, he thought. He breathed in the scent of fresh pine and contemplated the mountain peaks framed by the huge blue sky.

    Well, she can't accuse me of blowing it on this place.

    "I'm walking to the store." The voice from behind startled him. Jillian? It didn't sound like the voice of a little girl—maybe because his strawberry blond daughter was now seventeen.

    "Okay," Diane said weakly, eyes not moving from her novel, the story of a life far more interesting than her own.

    Jordan looked disapprovingly at his daughter's skimpy outfit. He started to grumble something about not talking with strange boys, but by then she was gone. She seemed always to vanish these days, outrunning his words. Jillian never asked permission for anything anymore. Half the time she never told them where she was going.

    He looked over at fourteen-year-old Daniel, his hairin a stiff black bang against his pale skin, earphones permanently attached to his head. He sat under a desert pine, still pouting because his best friend couldn't come with him and he was stuck with the family. He wore his perennial black T-shirt featuring some rock singer, with an embossed "Hail Satan," blood spurting out of the words. Daniel gazed at a magazine Jordan didn't recognize, probably about computers or vampires or who knows what.

    What's he doing wearing those stupid boots on a hot sunny day? When will he grow up, take some responsibly?

    Jordan stood restlessly and ran his hand across the smooth deck railing. He looked at the tennis courts where he could barely see someone practicing serves. He watched carefully, trying to figure out if the guy was good enough to beat him. Finally he turned around and studied the house, his latest symbol of success and happiness. The shutters screamed at him.

    Idiots.

    The builders had installed the wrong shutters. He'd left a message and hadn't heard back from them. He wouldn't let them get away with it. Still though, the place was beautiful.

    Wait till Hal sees this. It makes his mountain chalet look like a bungalow. And Matt's little beach cottage? No comparison. I'll buy a barbecue and have it going Friday night when they get here. A few cases of beer on be. Everything'll be perfect.

    He looked at the vacant spot under the tree where Daniel had been a moment ago.

    Oh, well He's fourteen. Not like he needs a babysitter.

    Jordan went inside to get his briefcase off the shiny oak dining room table. He pulled out the monthly sales figures. He'd gone over them already but wanted to study the numbers again. He returned to the deck and settled back in his lounge chair, sipping lemonade.

    Yeah, it was true. He'd outsold everyone. He'd come out on top again.

    I can borrow a little more, get that ski boat. No problem.

    It felt great.

    Yeah, great. Everything's great. It doesn't get any better than this.


* * *


LETTER 1

Our Working Arrangement


My newly assigned subordinate Squaltaint,

    I'm recording these instructions despite the misgivings of my assistant Obsmut, who believes it's too risky.

    As you've heard, there's been a reshuffling of the chain of command in your geopolitical sector, precipitated by the removal of Ashtar for his reprehensible acts of disloyalty against Lord Beelzebub. I've been assigned to command your region. You and your cadre of six tempters now fall under my authority. So do all your current subjects, including the vermin assigned to you, Jordan Fletcher.

    In our kingdom's multilevel marketing structure you have now come in under me. I will be the beneficiary of your successes. I will also be held responsible for your failures. Make sure there are none.

    Since I have vested interests in your success, I'll offer my keenest advice and monitor your progress. I'll aid you in deceiving and destroying Fletcher. Together we'll share the spoils of victory.

    I'm a master of strategy and tactics. In my letters, I'll tutor you in the fine art of deception. I'll begin with Foulgrin's Basic Training, or if you prefer, Temptation 101.

    These half-spirit, half-animal hybrids who inhabit this planet, our planet, are an endless source of fascination and frustration. They're such creepy little things, misshapen balloons of flesh, bloated bags of liquid and alloy. Grossly inferior to spirit beings, they should be our servants—yet the Enemy would have made us theirs!

    As you deal with Fletcher or any of them, remember in the end they are but raw material, to be used by us against Him or by Him against us. They're weapons to wield in our jihad against heaven, that oppressive citadel called Charis.

    Never forget the reason we revoked our citizenship—to establish the new and greater realm of Erebus, that mighty domain of which hell is but a junkyard, a ghetto for human slaves. (The Enemy claims we shall one day join them there—I think not, but if the worst proves true let's first do all the damage we can.) Our kingdom is being built each day with the bony bricks and bloody mortar of the Enemy's precious image-bearers—including your cockroach Fletcher.

    Picture it, Squaltaint: The sludgebags are caught in the crossfire between Erebus and Charis. Skiathorus, what they call earth—that festering wound, that canker sore of the cosmos—is the battlefield where two rival kingdoms vie for the allegiance of puny men. The delicious thing is, the vast majority of them don't have a clue about the raging battle. How can they prepare for a battle they don't even know they're in? And how can they win a battle they haven't prepared for?

    Foulgrin's rule number one: Keep them in the dark.

    The central question is always this—how can we exact revenge on the Enemy? It was He who evicted us from our rightful dwelling, He who chose the sludgebags over us. He made ours a government in exile, driving us out to the hinterlands of the spirit realm, where we have no place to call our own until we colonize Skiathorus.

    What can we do to inflict pain on this Creator who at first glance appears untouchable?

    Intelligence gathering yields the answer. The Carpenter gave it away when He asked that vermin Paul, "Why do you persecute me?" Well, who was he persecuting but Christians?

    There you have it, so simple it's elegant: To persecute them is to persecute Him. By striking out at them—and at all His weak and vulnerable image-bearers—we kill the Enemy in effigy. Better yet, we actually inflict harm on Him.

    In and of themselves the vermin are utterly insignificant. But because the Enemy places such value on them, they become immensely useful to us. They're the objects of our aggression and the means of our attack against Him. What better way to hurt the divine parent than to kidnap His children, brainwash and torture them?

    Delightful, isn't it? As you hatch your plots for Fletcher, Squaltaint, never lose sight of the big picture.

    As you're doubtless aware, I'm known throughout Erebus as a highly decorated agent of Beelzebub. Indeed, from time to time I've traveled with the Master himself and served as his confidant. I am an experienced tactical instructor. My sage advice and counsel to field-workers is legendary. You'll find me far more accomplished than Ashtar.

    Count yourself privileged to be the recipient of my advice. Know that many would give their right arm to receive my counsel. Know also that many have given their right arms when they failed to heed it.

    Despite Obsmut's reservations, my sending letters to subordinates has many advantages over our conventional communication. Something vital gets lost in oral transmission, and you can never fully trust the messenger. (The Enemy has the unfair advantage of being present in more than one place at a time. The rest of us must make do.)

    Our methods of thought-projection have also proven imperfect. Enemy warriors—those bootlicks with whom we once served—sometimes overhear our messages. And occasionally our emotions—rage in particular—blur our thoughts and create some unfortunate misunderstandings.

    I have before me your résumé, Squaltaint. I see you've had only mixed success with the thirty-eight sludgebags assigned to you in the past seven centuries. No less than six of these became Christians, and only three of those did you manage to derail from serving the Enemy.

    My standards are higher than Ashtar's, and my tolerance for failure lower. Trust me when I say it is in your best interests to serve me well. Sit at my feet and learn, or you will lie on my plate and be devoured.

    The scientist must know the lab rats or he will not be able to use them to greatest advantage. Guided by my keen eye, you will come to understand the human prey. You will learn to stalk them, developing the keen instincts of the predator.

    Submit immediately detailed information on Jordan Fletcher. In my next letter, I'll advise you concerning my strategy of team temptation. Bear in mind I may pay a visit to the field at any time. Unannounced.

    To get you started, here are Foulgrin's Rules of the Sting:

    1. Never lose sight of your goal—Fletcher's enslavement.

    2. Find just the right bait, tailor-made for him. Be sure the hook is well hidden.

    3. Use as many lures as you can. He may pass on one but bite on the next, or spend his life moving from one to the other.

    4. Make him promises and actually keep a few now and then, so he doesn't catch on to the setup.

    5. Tempt your prey with what he wants to have, but give him what you want him to have. Lure him, coddle him, reassure him all will be well, even as you fatten him for Lord Satan's altar.

    If you're somehow unfamiliar with my past campaigns and decorations, you should review the attached sixty-page vita, which summarizes a smattering of my accomplishments over the millennia. Attached also are Foulgrin's 66 Rules of Temptation, an acknowledged classic. Read, marvel, and obey.

    There are many reasons to follow my orders. First is our common commitment to retaliation against the Enemy and aggression against the sludgebags. Second is the punishment I'll inflict upon you if you let me down. I'll celebrate your victories with you, but should you fail, I'll discipline you severely. Mercy is the Enemy's weakness—not mine.

    We are forging the only sort of alliance that works in Erebus, a coalition of mutual self-interest that keeps our house from being divided against itself. For both our benefits you must deceive and destroy Fletcher. As long as you do, we will get along fine.

    When talking to you, I explain, clarify, and enlighten. When talking to the sludgebags, I hide, eclipse, and obscure. You must be honest with me and dishonest with them. Never get it backwards. I eagerly await your first report.

    Remember, Squaltaint, while the vermin have successfully exorcised demons from their daily conversation, they've failed to exorcise us from their daily lives.

    We always work best in the dark.


Your indisputable superior,

Lord Foulgrin

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments12
Note to Readers14
Prelude: The Hunt17
Chapter 1: It Doesn't Get Any Better?19
Letter 1: Our Working Arrangement21
Chapter 2: Voices25
Letter 2: Know Your Prey26
Chapter 3: The Darkness, the Book, the Stain31
Letter 3: Working Behind the Scenes33
Chapter 4: Shutting Doors57
Letter 4: The Vermin's Stinking Family38
Chapter 5: Two Worlds43
Letter 5: Hunting43
Chapter 6: Face-Off49
Letter 6: Shaping How the Vermin See Beelzebub and Us51
Chapter 7: The Deal57
Letter 7: Moral Relativism and Your Sludgebag58
Chapter 8: Fletcher's World65
Letter 8: The Word "My"68
Chapter 9: The Game and the Book71
Letter 9: Truth and Fiction72
Chapter 10:A Little Choice77
Letter 10: Captains of Their Fate78
Chapter 11: Conversation and Coffee83
Letter 11: Making Him Wrong about the Carpenter87
Chapter 12: The Counterfeit91
Letter 12: Disposing of the Evidence92
Chapter 13: The Message97
Letter 13: The Ultimate Insult98
Chapter 14: All the Same?101
Letter 14: Twisting the Forbidden Message103
Chapter 15: What Would It Mean?107
Letter 15: Footholds108
Chapter 16: The Blue Blur111
Letter 16: The Sting111
Chapter 17: Appointment115
Letter 17: Your Unthinkable Disaster116
Chapter 18: The Squadron119
Letter 18: Cinderella with Amnesia122
Chapter 19: Getting Started127
Letter 19: All Is Not Lost127
Chapter 20: What's with Dad?131
Letter 20: Making the Best of a Bad Situation132
Chapter 21: First Contact137
Letter 21: On the Prowl139
Chapter 22: The War Within143
Letter 22: The Battle for HIS Money and Possessions145
Chapter 23: The Invitation151
Letter 23: Eliminating Shame152
Chapter 24: The Bookstore157
Letter 24: Love and the Male Maggot-Feeders159
Chapter 25: Bad News165
Letter 25: Making Sure He Doesn't Get It166
Chapter 26: It Would Have to Be Obvious171
Letter 26: Their Efforts to Take Us Down172
Chapter 27: Surprise175
Letter 27: Love and the Female Maggot-Feeders176
Chapter 28: The Test181
Letter 28: Suffering, the Enemy's Megaphone182
Chapter 29: Options187
Letter 29: Take Him Down188
Chapter 30: Mom191
Letter 30: Postponing Evangelism192
Chapter 31: Dad197
Letter 31: Long Live Our Man in the Pulpit199
Chapter 32: Get Out205
Letter 32: Worship in the Forbidden Squadron206
Chapter 33: The Talk211
Letter 33: Accusations213
Chapter 34: Needing Help215
Letter 34: Message from the Enemy's Agent!216
Chapter 35: The Hike223
Letter 35: Visitation224
Chapter 36: Going to Kill Me227
Letter 36: Our Fairy Tale about Origins228
Chapter 37: Different253
Letter 37: Lard Chemosh254
Chapter 38: Final Answer239
Letter 38: Damned If You Do239
Chapter 39: My Messenger241
Letter 39: The Enemy's Appeal to the Vermin's
Self-Interest242
Chapter 40: It's Over247
Letter 40: Choosing a College249
Chapter 41: Enemy Strategies255
Letter 41: Distracting Him from Missions and the Poor257
Chapter 42: Home261
Letter 42: Intolerable Developments264
Chapter 43: Help269
Letter 43: Line in the Sand270
Chapter 44: Confession273
Letter 44: The Vermin's Longing for Pleasure274
Chapter 45: Applause279
Letter 45: Smelling Like the Enemy280
Chapter 46: Shout to the King283
Letter 46: The Final Disaster284
Chapter 47: Survivors291
Letter 47: One Last Hasty Note292
Afterword297
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