GEORGE LUCAS WAS RAISED A METHODIST. You may have heard of John and Charles Wesley, founders of his denomination. But don’t let an upbringing with the Wesley brothers fool you. The Star Wars saga, despite its apparent grab at good versus evil, is not a Christian narrative—far from it. Everything but Christianity thrives here. So why do we find it so attractive? The creator of Star Wars isn’t hiding anything. He has this to say of the Christian: “There’s absolutely no conflict between Darwinism and God’s design for the universe. The problem for me is that I see a very big difference between the Bible and God. And the problem they’re getting into now is that they’re trying to understand intelligent design through the Bible, not through God.” The most casual of viewings at almost any point in the Star Wars saga will undoubtedly show Lucas’ god. He, or she, or they, or it, is an esoteric one.
I finally broke down against my better discretion and watched the latest Star Wars installment in theaters. The Last Jedi comes as the eighth chapter of the Skywalker saga, which Lucas began over forty years ago—a “torch,” appropriately enough, carried now by Disney. I say “broke down,” but in all honesty, I might better serve this narrative by admitting to the dreadful fact that I “deceitful convinced myself,” or rather “succumbed to my flesh,” and rebelled. It was the Lord Himself, while writing “Avoid Science Falsely So-Called,” who asked me to retire my former adulterous love affair with occult entertainment; mainly, Star Wars. I guess I convinced myself that I needed to see it. I needed to write about it. I needed to expose it. But I was not granted that permission. Fact of the matter is I wanted to see it. I wanted to enjoy it. But I didn’t.
I felt terrible.
Star Wars is an affront to the Lord. It is a narrative fixated and hinged upon divination and witchcraft, esoteric knowledge, and communion with the dead. It is a universe inhabited by powerful crystals, where absolutes are evil, secret knowledge is passed down from master to student, and communication with “God” can be achieved through a living presence in the blood. It is a franchise bolstered by Buddhism, and which finds its roots in the Mysteries. The Theosophists would be proud. Satan clearly reigns here. In this particular movie, a devilish act known as “astral projection”—what is perhaps the most accomplished, self-enlightened stroke of a graduating Neophyte in the ancient Mysteries—demands a round of applauds. For over two hours I attempted to be entertained by these dreadful abominations, fancying a damnable scenario where the God of the Bible might not be so intrusive as to hinder my perverse imaginations, should consequence come into it; or worse, dip my feet into a refreshing reality where such a Creator might not exist at all.
I did not, as the 37th Psalmist advised: “Delight thyself also in the LORD.”
Within hours I fell ill. I started vomiting—violently. It was a sickness which carried on for days, and there were moments when I didn’t even have the strength to move my lips away from the build-up of bile on the bathroom floor. If I felt darkened—and I most certainly did—it wasn’t simply because of the stomach flu. I had allowed a demon into my life. For the last several weeks, interestingly enough, I have watched loved ones—unable to deal with the Copernican deception in the face of Biblical geocentricism—who run into the other room and turn on Star Wars for comfort. I see so many eyes darkened. Evil spirits surround us. My heart aches for the church.
This will be difficult for many to come to terms with. Such an admission of guilt—particularly my belief—will certainly erupt with the glutenous pleasure of many mockers. Here atheists and Christians have common cause. But I am broken clean from the occult, finding no more need or pleasure in its entertainment value. And yet such an obsession has monopolized God’s flock. It is a sickening passion, a self-imposed bondage, which Christians eagerly volunteer their very fleshly souls for. I myself was once a part of it. Coming out of this, recognizing the terrible Copernican deception in both its macro and micro scope, is little different than a man who frees himself from a lifetime of drugs or alcohol or sex addiction. He sees now the evil of what he once contributed to. It’s everywhere. He recognizes a demon for what it is. Satan’s hold of this world is an undeniable reality. And yet should that individual divulge in his former passions for a moment—be it the slightest slip from the straight and narrow—he will likely invite the demons right back in.
The Lord however is merciful and forgiving. I am on my feet again, thank you Savior, and obedient in my service to Him. I felt the Spirit upon me today. You might say I am moved to write these words. In fact, might I be so bold as to speak as a prophet against the prophets of this age.
This is a message which I bring to you from the Lord, whom (as I write these words) surely lives and is soon returning. Jesus will not be found in Star Wars. He will not be found in the opening crawl, as a contributor in the closing credits, nor anywhere in-between. And He will not be entertained by it, nor spoken to in this fashion. This entire series of films, with its massive line-up of toys and theme-park attractions, promotes one product: the Luciferian lie. We must depart from the occult, despite its cultural merrymaking, and return to our love of the Lord.
God doesn’t want pieces of our heart. He demands all of it.