The human Son of the High King had indeed bruised his head, not with power, but with shame. The dragon’s great foolishness was now on open display for the entire host of the High King to see. And every fallen human the King would redeem and restore through the Son’s sacrifice of unsurpassed love would be another blow of shame upon his wicked head — and another ray of the King’s glory. Another surge of the King’s joy.

There once was a great dragon, red like blood. He was a terrible serpent, ancient beyond human memory. His power and cunning were beyond human reckoning, and he was evil beyond all depraved human imagination.

And the dragon was real. He did not inhabit the realms of fairy-tale or nightmare — their horrors were but his shadows cast in legends. No, the dragon inhabited the real world of men, though imperceptible to their eyes and ears — unless, of course, being perceived served his wicked purposes.

And the dragon abhorred man. He hated them out of his virulent, bitter hatred for the High King who had created man. For, you see, the dragon too was a creature, having been fashioned by the King in ages long past, though not as a dragon, but as a magnificent prince.

A Prince Endragoned

Once upon a time, this prince was numbered among the great ones; he was a god in the holy council of the High King over all gods. But deep in the labyrinthian channels of this prince’s heart, pride began to run like a toxic sap, poisoning his loves and his thoughts. The greater he became in his own eyes, the more his true greatness diminished.

Self-deceived, the prince strove for greater glory than he possessed. He desired glory not bestowed by the King’s grace, but glory all his own, self-achieved and self-ascribed. In the deeps of his heart, he exchanged the gloryof the High King for a false image of himself he had come to love. And in doing so, he exchanged the truth for a lie, and worshiped his creaturely self rather than the Creator King, making himself a rival of the King.

Therefore, the prince was cast down from his exalted place in the council of the great, and hurled out of the King’s presence. He fell like lightning to the earth. There the King gave the treacherous prince up to the wicked passions of his heart, and he, who was once numbered among the gods, became the most dreadful of dragons. A time was then fixed by the King for the dragon’s final judgment.

A Vile Ambition

So, when this dragon saw that the High King had fashioned mankind in his own image, that he made them gods as he had once been, and had given them to rule over the earth, he was enraged. He burned with bitter hatred and longed to shatter these images of the One he hated most.

Then a wicked plan took shape in his brilliant, futile mind, which pleased his darkened heart. If he could entice the man-gods to turn against the King as he had done, they too would share his terrible fate; they too would be cast from the King’s presence; they too would become objects of the King’s just and terrible wrath. And the Sovereign’s sentence upon them would be irrevocable, just like the sentence upon him.

But even more desirable, the dragon would enjoy one great triumph: he would succeed in stealing the King’s glory by defacing the King’s image, woven into the very flesh and bone of these feeble gods. And before his dreaded day of judgment, he would remake these fallen gods into lesser dragons — images of himself — which he would enslave to wreak wanton destruction in the world the King had made.

Let the High King destroy him with omnipotence! He would leave an unfading scar upon the Everlasting Father: the eternal perishing of the King’s prized people. It could not fail to diminish the King’s joy!

A Terrible Triumph

So, into the peopled garden crept the crafty, condemned serpent. He presented himself to the image bearers as a bearer of enlightenment. He promised them the fruit of godly wisdom if they would but set aside the King’s sole prohibition and simply think for themselves — for were they not also gods? Surely, possessing the King’s wisdom and knowledge would increase their glory, for they would be even more like the High King than they yet were.

As they pondered the dragon’s cunning lies, pride began to seep into the heart channels of the image bearers. They believed the dragon’s dark light. They simply thought for themselves — only to discover too late how great was this light’s darkness. In horror, they soon realized the serpentine promise yielded foolishness, not wisdom; death, not life; alienation from the King, not greater likeness to the King. In rejecting the King’s command, they had rejected the King’s rule. They had become the King’s enemies. Theirs was treason of the highest order. And for such a crime, against such a King, there was only one just sentence: destruction.

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