“Marty did it.”
When I was twelve years old, it was the favorite phrase of my friends and myself.
Marty was a scrawny, bespectacled, weak-willed, sweet farm boy who really didn’t have any power and only gained importance to us when we did something stupid, were trying to escape responsibility, and used him to displace our guilt.
You know what was interesting? It worked–because Marty didn’t really defend himself.
The teachers began to believe that he was the problem child, and even sent him to the guidance counselor for correction.
Marty was so desperate for attention that he somewhat enjoyed the accusations because it gave him identity.
I deeply regret that I was never able to apologize to Marty for making him become the sin-eater for all of our pranks.
After a while, I grew out of it.
I came to the conclusion that if I was going to become a functioning human being I needed to take responsibility for my own actions instead of using Marty as my excuse for iniquity.
Such is the case with Beelzebub.
The Old Devil gets blamed for everything except for those natural disasters we want to lay on God.
Beelzebub absorbs the attention and builds a false kingdom of power around his alleged misdeeds.
When we are childish in our spirituality, we yearn for Beelzebub to step in and take the blame for our shortcomings.
Matter of fact, this may be the sign of truly discovering God: the day you wake up and accept the ramifications of your deeds as your own doing instead of searching the terrain for a devilish accomplice.
Somewhere along the line, one has to conclude that we are known by our own fruits.
It is not Beelzebub that bedevils us.
It is our own lust that draws us away.
Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) — J.R. Practix