From the Desk of Scritchwither Scornflinger, Grand Inquisitor of Spiritual Decay
To: Fizzlebane, Incompetent Junior Tempter
Oh, my slimy little apprentice,
If I could lock away one celestial contraband forever, it would be that obscene little fact that God loves His children exactly as they are right now. Not once they’ve repented. Not when they’ve finally memorized the Living Christ. Not after they’ve served in the nursery for fifteen consecutive years without complaint. Now. With their half-hearted prayers and their Spotify playlists full of questionable pop songs. With their doubts and their Diet Coke addictions and their secret hatred of ward potlucks. It’s disgusting, Fizzlebane. And worse—it’s effective.
Our job isn’t to destroy the love. (We can’t. Trust me, we’ve tried.) Our job is to make sure she never believes it. Block, distort, delay. Keep her scrambling for crumbs of love when Heaven has already set a table.
STRATEGY ONE: THE BEAUTY BLACKOUT
Here’s an infuriating truth: God litters the world with love letters. He made sunsets, orchids, fingernails, mountains shaped like temples. He carved music into woodwinds and let cinnamon exist. AND FOR WHAT? So they’d notice? So they’d feel something sacred when they’re not even at church?
Make her too busy to look, too tired to wonder, too focused on being useful to pause and receive. Let her get used to the beauty of a forest, the changing seasons, chubby baby feet—make those seem ordinary. Block them. Keep her eyes glued to her phone. Keep her schedule packed.
If she stops to smell the lilacs on a morning walk, whisper: “C'mon, get going. Things to do.”
STRATEGY TWO: THE EARNING DELUSION
Start young. Whisper in Primary that Heavenly Father loves obedient children extra. Let her overhear a teacher sigh, "Jenny is so spiritual—you can tell God favors her." By the time she’s in Young Women, she’ll automatically assume every answered prayer is a reward and every trial is a mark of divine disappointment.
The goal? Make God’s love feel like a celestial vending machine—insert enough good works, out drops a blessing. If she starts to suspect grace might be free? Emergency protocols: "Then why do we have commandments?" "Why would God love someone like you?"
STRATEGY THREE: THE GASLIGHTING GAMBIT
That warmth she feels during sacrament meeting? Indigestion. The sudden peace while reading scriptures? Coincidence. The overwhelming sense of love on a morning walk? Emotional vulnerability.
Undermine every spiritual experience with plausible alternatives. "You’re just tired." "It’s the music manipulating you." "If God really loved you, wouldn’t He send an angel instead of this fuzzy feeling?"
STRATEGY FOUR: THE SPIRITUAL ELITISM LIE
Convince her that God’s love is a premium experience—reserved for:
Women who wake at 5:30 AM for running and scripture study
Mothers who never raise their voices
Firesides given by women with perfect hair (if you haven't been asked to speak, do you even have anything worthwhile to say?)
Make her believe that if her revelation doesn’t come with fire or choirs, it doesn’t count. Never let her realize God whispers most often in the ordinary: a friend’s text, a toddler’s laugh, a verse that feels like it was written just for her.
STRATEGY FIVE: THE COMPARISON TRAP
When Amy Jones tearfully testifies, “I felt wrapped in God’s arms,” make your subject think: "I’ve never felt that. What’s wrong with me?" Turn every spiritual experience into a benchmark she’s failing. Make divine love feel like a competition she’s already lost.
THE NIGHTMARE WE FACE
But here’s the real kicker, the infuriating truth that keeps me up at night: Every moment, there are legions of angels. The angels are relentless, Wormling. Do you understand how maddening it is? We have entire teams working full-time to fog up the signal—and still the angels get through. Through hummingbirds. Through messy prayers. Through toddler hugs and accidental scripture verses that explode like fireworks. One of her friends will say, “You are so loved,” and the Spirit will sneak in like a stowaway.
Every moment, there are legions of angels tirelessly laboring to flood her with God’s love. They are everywhere, at all times, trying to make the message crystal clear. They paint her dreams with hope, hum music into her ears, and whisper soft assurances through the most unexpected places. The love of God is not rare. It’s a constant flood, it’s relentless, and it’s for everyone. The trick is convincing her that it’s not, and that it’s something she has to earn or struggle to find.
We cannot stop the flood. But we can drown her in the lie that the water is just a trickle—so she never wades into the river and feels the pull of grace that’s already rising around her.
Tell her God’s love is rare, elusive, and conditional. Keep her trying to earn it—so she never stops long enough to feel it.”
If they ever realize this whole mortal experience is just one long rescue mission drenched in divine affection, it’s game over.
If she ever dares to rest in that love? If she stops striving and just receives?
We’re doomed.
With no affection,
Scritchwither
p.s. Yes, yes, I got your note about scriptures. It’s so frustrating that He makes His word so free, so available, so effective even on TikTok and Instagram, that it drips with His love. You may not be able to block it completely, but I’ll teach you how to dull the shine.
Heavenly Whispers (gentle and kind)
"There has not been a single moment—not one—when she was unloved."
"For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee" Isaiah 54:10
This really hits home. Can’t wait for the book.
My eyes are leaking.🩷 Diet Coke addiction and secret hatred of ward potlucks…I feel seen.😉