Author’s Note: I wrote this last year for my School of Discipleship students to help them see the enemy's tactics more clearly. Then it went slightly viral.
Here's why I'm bringing it back: because Screwtape's playbook hasn't changed, and I want even more people to realize the enemy is still using the exact same strategies to take out young believers. If we can't name the patterns, we can't fight them. C.S. Lewis gave us the blueprint. This is just the Gen Z translation.
If you're new here, welcome to the resistance.
So now we’ve come to them… Generation “Z”. Ugh.
What a vexing little soup of contradictions. Raised on screens, marinated in irony, allergic to institutions yet starving for meaning. They mock everything yet feel everything.
I must confess, I had hoped we could skip this lot. Too emotionally volatile, too “self-aware,” too caffeinated to corrupt with finesse. But Headquarters insists, and so we adapt.
They are, after all, our favorite kind of prey: spiritually hungry but drowning in distraction, armed with convictions but unsure of their source.
How gratifying it is to hear of your continued efforts, though I detect in your methods a certain carelessness that troubles me. Have I taught you nothing of subtlety?
These young Christians, while spirited and stubborn, are hardly beyond our reach. They are fragile things, torn between their lofty ideals and their earthly desires.
And it is in these gaps that you must work.
But do so delicately, my dear nephew. They must never suspect you are there. Allow me to illuminate the weaknesses we can so easily exploit.
Now, Wormwood, some of these young Christians are very new to their faith.
Young and zealous, they are aflame with a passion that blinds them to their own vulnerabilities.
For these, it is all too simple. Twist their fervor into something rigid and self-serving. Let them mistake their newfound moral superiority for actual holiness.
Whisper to them that their zeal is what defines their worth, that their ability to keep the Enemy’s commands proves their faith.
And, as they grow proud of their discipline, let them begin to look down on others who are not so “devoted.”
Feed their hearts with quiet comparisons:
“You are stronger than they are.”
“You are better.”
Soon, they will be walking contradictions, professing humility while their hearts swell with pride.
And… as they fall deeper into legalism, they will push others away, driving the very people they seek to save further into our waiting arms.
Delightful!
There are others among them who claim to have found victory over our attacks.
Some, Wormwood, even speak of breaking free from the chains of sins we so carefully nurtured in them—lust, anger, greed—all rendered impotent, they say.
How insufferable.
But do not despair. Their confidence is their Achilles' heel.
Convince them that the battle is over, that they no longer need to guard their hearts or minds.
Let them grow complacent, lowering their defenses ever so slightly.
When they relax their vigilance, you will strike… not with a thunderous fall, but with a whisper, a glance, a fleeting thought.
They will not see the chains tightening again until it is too late.
And OH, the despair when they realize they are back where they started, drowning in shame and guilt.
What better way to make them question the Enemy’s power?
Then there are the “thinkers” among them… the “intellectuals” who fancy themselves seekers of “truth”.
These are a delight to us.
Convince them of their brilliance, of their superiority over the “simple-minded” among their peers.
Whisper to them that their ability to question and analyze sets them apart, that others who do not wrestle with the complexities of faith are somehow inferior.
Let them grow impatient with those who rely on plain faith.
And while they gaze down at others, feed their arrogance with the lie that they have nothing left to learn.
Oh, and here, Wormwood, is where you must be particularly crafty.
Persuade them to cling to that delightful little saying:
“The Bible says it, I believe it, that settles it.”
Ah, how sweetly simplistic.
Let them think the Enemy’s word is nothing more than a “manual for life,” with no need for interpretation, no nuance, no complexity.
And here is the masterstroke: as they grow older and inevitably encounter the many interpretations, the challenging texts, the rich debates of theology and history… they will be completely unprepared.
Overwhelm them with the sheer enormity of it all.
Whisper that their faith was a lie, because it was never as simple as they believed.
Make them feel foolish for ever trusting in something so contradictory. The weight of their disillusionment will be enough to make them abandon the Enemy entirely.
And then, my dear nephew, we have those whose faith is built on rituals and habits.
They cling tightly to their routines—prayer, Bible reading, church attendance—believing that these acts will keep them in the Enemy’s favor.
What an opportunity this presents.
Turn their disciplines into drudgery.
Let them believe that their salvation depends on these acts, that failure to perform them will bring the Enemy’s wrath.
Rob them of the joy these practices were meant to bring.
Let guilt and shame fill the void where love and connection should reside. And when they inevitably falter, when they miss a prayer or skip a service...
Crush them with the weight of their own inadequacy. Whisper to them that they are unworthy, that the Enemy is disappointed in them.
How delightful it is to watch their devotion turn to despair.
Do you see the pattern, Wormwood?
These young Christians are not so different from one another.
They each wrestle with pride, doubt, fear, and shame in their own way.
Your task is to take what is good in them—their zeal, their intellect, their discipline—and twist it… until it becomes their downfall.
But you must work in shadows, for they are ever wary.
If they catch even a glimpse of our Enemy’s true nature… His love, His mercy, His relentless pursuit of them… it will undo everything we have labored to build.
So keep them busy.
Keep them distracted.
Keep them divided.
Above all, keep them from knowing the Enemy as he truly is.
For if they ever see him clearly, even for a moment, our cause will be lost.
Your affectionate uncle,
Screwtape
If this work has fed you, challenged you, or pushed you closer to Jesus, then I need your help!
I’m Aaron, a former long-time church staff pastor now doing ministry out in the wild. Since 2018, I’ve been building GoodLion Ministries to help young adults follow Jesus deeply in a post-modern, post-Christian age that pulls them in a thousand directions.
On Sunday evenings, I lead the GoodLion School of Discipleship, a multi-year formation program where young adults wrestle with Scripture, ask hard questions, and build a faith that can handle doubt and chaos. Through this work, I watch students move from confusion to clarity, from fear to faithfulness, from being spiritually adrift to knowing how to walk with Jesus in real life.
I also write here on Substack, mentor young leaders, and create resources for people who want substance over hype.
Our mission is simple: We believe in Jesus, the King who is not safe but is very good. We’re here for the doubters, the deconstructors, the burnt-out ministers, the church kids haunted by legalism, and anyone tired of shallow faith.
Here’s the reality: I’m bivocational. For years, I’ve supported my family through freelance work while building this ministry in every spare hour I can find. My goal is to transition to doing this work full time so I can expand the School, write more, travel to teach, raise up more leaders, and serve every single person who need what GoodLion offers.
This is my life’s work. For nearly 20 years, I’ve been helping Gen Z learn to think deeply, wrestle honestly, and follow Jesus in a world that tries to pull them apart.
If you believe this work matters, I invite you partner with me! This is not a side hustle for me. This is a mission. Even $10/month helps me teach more, write more, and disciple more young adults who genuinely need it.
👉 Support GoodLion Ministries Here
Thank you for walking with me.
– Aaron
Links
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🎓 GoodLion School of Discipleship
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