By Jim Nichols

“It was a dark and stormy night. The wind was blustery, and the clouds hung low. One had the impression that this was not a good night to be lost.”

I have always wanted to begin writing a piece in that way, and now I can say I did.

It certainly was a dark and stormy night, especially on the old 1950s black and white television set in my boyhood living room. The music was unique and memorable, and Rod Serling’s deep and rich voice predictably said, “You are about to enter another dimension. A dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land of imagination. Next stop, the Twilight Zone!”

Twilight Zone was in the “must watch” category for me, along with Dragnet, Bowlin with Molin (a local televised bowling show), and Crusader Rabbit. Early television was more creative than current television, it seems to me. 

My sisters, I believe, thought Twilight Zone was weird and my parents may have agreed, but the show was just odd enough to be thought-provoking. It was almost too scary sometimes, but usually had a lesson embedded. One such episode had a biblical message that I have never forgotten. I am guessing this episode visualized something spiritually for me.

In this 30-minute show we follow a man lost during a heavy storm. We are not told how he got into that situation or where he was going, but he is desperate enough for shelter that he approaches the only dwelling he can find, a castle isolated in dense forest. We viewers cannot see it clearly since the only illumination is from the frequent lightning. 

His knock on the massive door eventually is acknowledged and opened by an aged monk. It is a monastery and there seem to be other inhabitants, but we never see them, except for one eventually. The ancient-appearing monk speaks in a strange voice and explains matters for which we have no context. We are led to believe, however, that he is insane—perhaps even frighteningly so. The visitor, however, needs shelter and the monk offers that to him, staying several days waiting for the storm to abate.

During the first night, the visitor’s sleep is interrupted by howls from somewhere in the castle. Built of gray rock, the howls echo throughout. The visitor tracks the origin of the sounds and finds a man in a jail cell in the basement. The prisoner acts overjoyed at seeing the visitor and pleads for his release. “You can easily get me out of here by opening the jail cell door,” he exclaims. The visitor in terror bolts back to his sleeping area but returns the following evening to the cell.

The prisoner (a quite normal appearing man) again begs for release. The cell itself appears ancient with bars widely spaced; the prisoner can easily stick his arms through. The cell door has no lock on it; the only item latching it shut is a wooden shepherd’s crook. Indeed, the prisoner should be able easily to reach from the inside through the bars and remove the staff himself—but he seems unable to do so. Instead, he rails about the insanity of the monk and how he was captured and imprisoned against his will and begs the visitor to lift the crook.

The next day the visitor asks the monk for an explanation. The monk says that the prisoner is, in fact, Satan and that he cannot free himself because the crook is the “staff of truth,” that is, God’s truth. The monk says, “I was able to capture Satan and only another human can set him free.” Satan cannot set himself free. When the visitor argues that the prisoner is a perfectly normal man, the monk replies that the Devil has the power to adopt pleasing appearances. “Do not be deceived,” he says.

The following night the visitor again comes to the prisoner. The prisoner scoffs at the tale of the monk. “He is absolutely insane. Nothing he says is correct. Just raise that stupid crook up and I will never see you again.”

Finally convinced, the visitor gently lifts and removes the staff, opening the jail door. The prisoner smiles and his countenance and appearance change drastically as he runs off laughing. Evil is manifested in him, and the visitor falls to the floor saying, “I saw him, but I did not recognize him.”

What my fourteen-year-old brain sensed was that the only thing restraining the Devil was God’s truth. Satan lacked the power to overcome it without human help. Pleasant appearances by Satan disguised his nature.

Personifying the Devil does not seem to be a “modern” thing to do, but the Bible certainly portrays this possibility. Whether we make Satan a real person is perhaps irrelevant because we certainly can feel Satanic impulses in the world today.

Jim Nichols is a retired Abilene Christian University biology professor and current hospital chaplain