A/n: It's rare that I feel compelled to describe a Christian using the words "arrogant ass," but a Christian author on this site is a spectacular exception to the rule. Earlier this year, the author left a snotty review of one of my stories (a review that no longer exists), and the month-long conversation that followed was a dumpster fire. Besides the cavalcade of the author's conceit, snottiness, and constant careless assumptions about me and my views, their arrogance was especially nauseous. This author prided themselves on a strong knowledge of the Bible but misinterpreted a verse and misused it in their critique of me; moreover, they prided themselves on being logical, but failed to be logical during the conversation. And when I called them out on their many mistakes, they admitted to maybe one or two.
I don't know what causes certain Christians to act that way, but I know this: They have a responsibility to act like the God they worship—a God who is humble and gentle at heart, a God who commands His people to not act as if they're above anybody or think they know it all—and when they refuse to, or they think they're doing a good job of it when they're clearly not, they're giving their faith a bad name. Unfortunately, they can easily become arrogant, and there are many ways they can do so. This letter discusses two of those ways.
My dear child,
Be careful. You are in danger from a mortal enemy, and the enemy is blinking at you in the mirror.
It is no sin to delight in your royalty (you are a child of the King of all High Kings), but your royal blood is starting to make you proud. While your allegiance to me has made you someone else, it is not the sort of else I intended. I made you different so that you could show the world what I am like and spare yourself the misery of following the world's ways, not so that you could become conceited. Instead of letting your crown humble you and compel you to grateful service, you have begun to look down on those who do not share your royalty. And though you have been a good steward of your abilities and opportunities, your heart has said: "Look at me and what Aslan has done! Pity it wasn't you..."
But lest you forget, you did not get where you are by your own means. You were powerless to change your lot, and I delivered you. You were living for your own pleasure, and I used your abilities to accomplish something good. You did not inherit your crown by birth, nor your abilities by effort; they were given to you, just as they are extended to everyone else. You were not chosen because you were something special; you have simply called out to me, only because I first called out to you. But be warned: Your lofty station is not secure. Many men and women have taken a terrible fall, and you are especially vulnerable. And should the day come when encounter those people whom you looked down upon, you may be very surprised to see whom I hold in lofty regard.
That is why I say this with all due severity and love:
Danger lies ahead. Be careful.
With everlasting love,
Aslan
