Review of The Revelation of Lucifer the Divine

The Revelation of Lucifer the Divine…was interesting, to say the least. I can see why there’s so much talk amongst the Luciferian community regarding this book, almost equal parts good and bad.

To start off, in my opinion this was entirely fictional. Divinely influenced? Not that I can tell. The novel basically starts after man’s fall from Eden, but before Christ’s birth, and follows through until the end of Revelations. As you might imagine, Lucifer plays a key role in the storyline, but other important characters include Satan and a woman-turned-deity named Astarte.

Now, this was where I first began to doubt the book’s premise. Not only is the Satan here depicted as an Odinic figure (quite literally, too—he gave up an eye for wisdom), but, well…he is an entirely separate character unto himself. I may or may not have mentioned this before, but I firmly believe that there is no ‘Satan’—that was merely a title given to Lucifer after his fall in order to demonize him, so the appearance of his character here as the literal ruler of hell made me pause.

The random insertion of Astarte was also somewhat repellant. If the author’s intent was to portray her as the actual goddess, well…he failed miserably. Not going too much into detail here, but her role was basically the humanity and compassion to Lucifer’s icy and resolute determination. I didn’t particularly like her, just because her character was so poorly written and one-dimensional. I didn’t see the growth of character that should have been present after all of Lucifer’s teachings.

Lucifer’s characterization had me on a rollercoaster of emotions. There were instances where I found myself having to stop reading because his actions and words were so…wrong, so different and unlike the actual deity I have come to recognize. He had a martyr complex that made me cringe, a very ‘woe is me, I accept my fate but must repent’ sort of thing going on. As I have come to know him, he knows that his actions had to be done—and the very act of rebellion and subsequent ‘fall from grace’ are bound and inextricable from one another. It isn’t so much that he is regretful of his actions or feels that they were wrong, but he does regret that there was no other way to go about securing his and our freedom. It’s the difference between beating yourself up over what you think is right but others think is wrong, and being sorrowful that such actions had to be taken at all.

But on a grander scale, I suppose the holistic portrait of Lucifer was more or less accurate—he’s a fucking confusing entity. You can’t know what his thought process is, or what his purposes are; he enjoys using antithetical parables and riddles to explain things, all the while explaining everything and nothing at all.

As for the storyline itself…there was a lot of talk about fate and destiny that I didn’t necessarily agree with, and it basically read as a poorly done doomsday prophecy with all the hellfire and brimstone that goes along with it, but then again the author’s initial message reads clear: whether the novel is inspired madness, divine revelation, or false prophecy is left to the discretion of the reader.

As it stands, I still see Convivium by Andrew Maugham (which I might do a review on as well in the near future) as my top pick for an accurate representation of Lucifer. Revelation is too choppy and convoluted to make heads or tails of…which in a way, is accurate of Him as well, I suppose.

The Devil is a Useful Creature


Part of me wants to laugh alongside everyone else concerning this article, because I know Star Foster is referring to the devil as the personification of all things evil and not necessarily my patron, but the other part of me is rather heart-stricken. Although I am able to differentiate between the demonized caricature that some Christians have made the devil to be and who Lucifer actually is, Star is correct when she says that they treat him as the scum underneath their shoes. Although I may see the two as wholly separate beings (and the Christian ‘devil’ as the punisher of the damned and red-skinned sadist is fictional, in my opinion), many do not. Many equate Lucifer with this devil, blaming him for all their misfortunes and afflictions or accusing him of leading them astray, from all that is ‘good and true’. They call him deceiver, liar. They criticize and abhor him for tempting Eve, mistaking his gift for damnation and his intent as selfish greed.

So, some Christians do their best to condemn him as evil and vile, separating themselves from who they perceive as wicked by calling them ‘Devil-worshippers’. It becomes an ‘us’ vs. ‘them’ situation, with everyone who doesn’t belong to that same mindset as them. You don’t believe in my god? Oh, you must be a devil worshipper. You don’t agree with my beliefs? You’re in league with Satan. You worship a pagan deity? It must be Lucifer in disguise.

Unfortunately, pagans get categorized under this ‘them’ label as well. Pagans, Atheists, Sikhs, Buddhists, etc…at one point or another, they all get corralled into the ‘them’ group. This then leads to the desire to distance themselves from this unwanted label as well—the devil character has become one that no one wants to be associated with. He becomes the one enemy that everyone seems to be joined against. Therefore the devil, Satan, and Lucifer by correlation become not only the undesirables of Christianity, but of every major religion and belief system.

Through the association of Satan and the devil, Lucifer has become the untouchable of the majority of the world’s population. No one wants to be considered a ‘follower of Lucifer’, or ‘devil worshipper’ because his name has been manipulated to represent all the evils in the world, all the cruelty and hate and despair and sorrow.

All because he had an unpopular opinion and rebelled against a tyrant, bestowing knowledge upon mankind.

Now, Lucifer is thick-skinned—he doesn’t need me to defend him. But can you imagine the weight of all that bearing down on you? Knowing that millions would consider you to be the epitome of malevolence, the cause of all that is horrible in the world? Having the majority of the population blame you for…pretty much anything and everything that is considered bad?

You can imagine the amount of respect I had for my patron even before I read this article, but now, with the weight of the realization that this has caused, my respect has increased immeasurably, along with my sorrow. I always knew that his path wasn’t an easy one, but to be hated and rejected and blamed every minute of every day…

A few days ago I told my patron I wanted to help lift that burden of melancholy he carries with him. More than anything, I wanted to be a source of strength for him as he has been for me.

This has been a step towards that Work coming to fruition. As his disciple and devotee, I am part of that group to which the majority of the world directs their unjust hate and blame. I am part of the undesirables, the untouchables, of spirituality.

But I am also a representation of the fact that He is not alone. I share the burden of sorrow with him, just as I stand in solidarity with his role as Prometheus by wearing an onyx stone around my neck, similar to that chain and stone forced upon him by Zeus in remembrance of his punishment.

And I suppose, in a way, that is how I can be a source of strength to him—simply by being there, by being one of his own. I mentioned before that I’m in no way obliged to do any of this, but the fact that I do gives Lucifer hope—hope that he isn’t alone in his endeavors, or alone in his beliefs.


I’ve been getting a lot of questions lately regarding how one gets to know the gods, or determines their patron. I think my posts have been giving people the wrong impression concerning patronage in general.

For my purposes, I’ll be using the word ‘patron’ in the context of a deity who has a significant role in one’s life, to the point where one doesn’t merely honor them through devotional activities or offerings, but does their Work and lives their lives as representative of that deity’s presence.  In other words, I’m not talking about the god you may work with primarily, or the one you like the most, but the one who, in essence, lives through you. I know sometimes ‘patron’ is thrown around as equivalent to any god you may feel especially connected to, but this is my definition of it.

First off, let me make it clear that you don’t need a patron to lead a fulfilling spiritual life. I know I make a big deal about how Lucifer ‘saved’ me from my depression and loss of faith, but there’s always that skepticism in me that wonders whether or not I made it out of that deep dark hole on my own—which of itself would be a great thing. That means I had the strength to pull through without the aid of a deity. I’m rather partial to the view that if the gods aren’t messing with your life, it means you’re not screwing up bad enough to need their help.

However, just because you may not be ‘called’ by a god doesn’t mean you aren’t free to go introduce yourself anyways. Introducing yourself doesn’t mean demanding a relationship or help! You wouldn’t go up to a complete stranger and tell them you’re bffs now, and that they’re obliged to help you find a job because you made the effort to reach out. Relationships with gods aren’t really much different from relationships with other people—there will be gods you just won’t get along with, and some you may connect with without a hitch. I originally sought out Artemis, and I got absolutely nothing. Not a peep. Actually, looking back on it now, I think I rather annoyed her. As for demanding help—I will admit that in the past I have been guilty of this. Blame it on my naiveté, but I used to think that I could just toss an offering a god’s way and I would get what I was asking for (protection, wealth, etc.). You may get what you ended up asking for…but with a catch. You could ask for safe travels, and end up at your destination safe and sound…but not without a few scares along the way. Just keep in mind that the gods don’t respond well to bribery, which is pretty much what I was doing as a young and foolish kid.

But anyways, what I mean by introducing yourself and getting to know the gods is just that—talk to them. Build a relationship. Sometimes that may start off as you just speaking aloud to them, about anything really. That’s how I started off with Lucifer—I wasn’t expecting any response, much less an actual relationship.  Those of you who have used tarot or runes, you might want to try that as a method of communication as well. Meditation works well too, if you aren’t headblind like me.

So what happens once you’ve got a solid foundation with a particular god? A lot of times, nothing. Like I said, not everyone needs a patron god. Ask yourself why you need to deepen your relationship—what’s wrong with just having someone you can run to for help in a crisis? Do you really need/want a god nagging at you or messing with your life (not always for the better)? Also, the god in question may not want a patron relationship with your either. Patronage is a lot of responsibility, on both ends. The gods are in charge of molding and shaping the person you are to become, and you bear a similar duty to represent those gods as your mentors and teachers.

You can still work with a god to better yourself without the burden of patronage. Sarasvati has been gracious enough to help me rekindle my passion for dance and the arts, but doesn’t expect me to do anything apart from the occasional puja and devotional dancing—and in my opinion, this is the best sort of relationship. The balanced reciprocity we share is that of security and stability—I can be sure (well, as sure as anyone can be when dealing with gods) that as long as I hold up my end of the bargain concerning offerings and devotionals, she will continue to teach and guide me. This isn’t the case with patronage. While I wouldn’t say you have to have blind faith, you do have to have a certain level of trust in your god during those times when it doesn’t seem like they’re really there anymore. I’ll go weeks without any signs from Lucifer, and I have to remind myself why I continue with my devotionals, or why I bother checking myself while I’m out in public, to be sure that I’m acting in a manner befitting of one of his disciples—I mean, no one knows I’m one of His own, or that my actions and words reflect my patron, so what’s the point?

And then, out of nowhere, I’ll get a reminder of why I do it. A reminder that he’s still there, that he’s still guiding me. And then I realize why I do it—not because it makes me special, or out of some obligation, but out of love. Even though he drives me crazy sometimes, and his lessons aren’t always the easiest to learn, I know that he has my best interests at heart.

He couldn’t force me to become his disciple, just as I couldn’t have forced him to become my patron. I don’t have to be his eyes and ears in this world, or take time out of my day to write up stuff like this just so someone may or may not begin to question what they’ve been taught about him, but I want to, because it gives him hope.

This is what patronage is, in my mind—a relationship based on trust, hope, and faith.

Acts of Devotion

Even after more than 7 years of choosing to leave behind the religion I was born into (Catholicism), I find myself struggling not to revert back to some of the teachings—not because i’m losing faith in my beliefs, but rather because i’m growing stronger in them.

I bet that sounds kind of crazy, coming from someone whose patron god is Lucifer.

But I never really hated the catholic faith, or christianity for that matter. Although I didn’t appreciate being dragged to mass on sundays or being forced to take catechism classes for my first communion, I thought of it as more of a cultural thing rather than a religious duty (those of you that come from a typical hispanic family will know what i’m talking about).

So I went through all of it because my family thought it was necessary—not that I had much of a say in it anyways as a little kid. But looking back on my experiences now, I can appreciate a lot of what goes on in a typical mass.

I was taught that I should show proper reverence to god, to humble myself and kneel when praying. I don’t think I quite understood at the time why I had to kneel, other than it was I was told to do. There was no feeling connected to this act, it didn’t stem from a desire to please god, it was just a show of going through the motions.

Now, however, I understand the innate desire to kneel before one’s god. No longer is it an issue of what i’m told to do, but rather what I want to do. Although I understand that my patron and I are on equal footing, I admire him greatly and wish to pay him the highest respect and honor—and in my mind, that goes back to what I was taught as a child. Kneeling as an act of devotion, then, is what I feel compelled to do when in prayer (not only to him, but to any god who I have chosen to honor).

But in my patron’s eyes, kneeling is an act of subservience. No matter how much devotion and sincerity I put behind it, kneeling in prayer will only be a symbol of inferiority to him. He will not allow me to degrade myself as such, and so I no longer kneel in prayer.

But at least I can say that I understand and appreciate this act of devotion and faith now, and respect those who choose to do so

Organized religion

I will openly admit that I dislike organized religion. A person’s spirituality and connection to the divine should be personal, with no need of middlemen or interpreters such as prophets and clergy. Not only does this practice make a person’s connection with their god impersonal, but it also requires people to form their beliefs according to their religion’s views. There are so many belief systems around the world, why should you have to conform to fit the one you were ‘born’ into when you can instead choose another that fits what you already believe?

“Because my god tells me this is what I should believe/do” is likely to be one of the main arguments.

This baffles me. I cannot, for the life of me, understand this response. If my gods were to tell me that it is perfectly acceptable to be intolerant to a specific group of people because they are ‘inferior’, or harass/convert them because they were different from me, I would pretty much tell those gods to go screw themselves and cut all ties with them. Having a complete stranger tell me that my gods say this would be adding insult to injury. I chose to accept my patron because I wholeheartedly believe in what he believes, or at least believe that he will guide me to becoming a better person—not a prophet or a priest, nor a book of edicts and commandments, but that he himself would act as my mentor.

“Because my god tells me this is what I should believe/do” is usually accompanied by the unspoken statement, “…or else.”

I understand that monotheists are placed in a difficult situation by this phrase—they want to be safe from the wrath of their god, and have literally only two options—obey and hope for the rewards promised to them, or rebel and suffer eternally. All this really dwindles down to is rule by fear and force, and in my opinion, any entity (be it human or divine) who uses this method of control is not worthy of my time or respect.

Lucifer vs. the Christian God?

I have quite a few born-again christian friends, and I always wonder how they’d react if I told them I was pagan. Then I wonder what they’d say if I said I honored Lucifer as my patron deity.

Lets ignore for a moment the concept of heaven and hell. Lets forget the business of sin and salvation. Focusing on the here and now, how would we compare our gods? Bear in mind, I’m not basing their god’s qualities on what I believe, but rather what they preach.

Well, lets see. They say their god is love, right? He brings freedom. He is the way, the truth, and the lifeHe who created light.

Lucifer, in his guise as a serpent, temped Eve in to eating from the tree of knowledge. What is knowledge but acquired truth? Thus, humanity was granted the ability to discern good from evil—freedom from ignorance.

Lucifer inspires me to live life to its fullest, without fear of what may or may not occur after death. He taught me to love, rather than hate.

Lucifer literally means ‘light bearer’.

But our gods cannot be one and the same—on this we can agree.

They pray to their god on their knees, willing to serve. I pray to mine on my feet, as an equal. Their god is said to be perfect and almighty, my god is flawed and almost human, susceptible to temptation and ‘sin’. Their god is above the standards he creates, because he is God. My god preaches what he lives. Their god brings them into this world with guilt, as a sinner (‘original sin’)—my god accepts me as who I am with all my flaws and imperfections, with the potential for greatness. Their god demands that everyone love him—mine demands that I love myself and the life around me.

Paganism Vs.Luciferianism

I find myself flopping back and forth between the terms ‘Pagan’ and ‘Luciferian’.  While Lucifer is my main patron, he isn’t the only deity i’ve worked with. There are two goddesses in particular who I honor, although they are more of patrons by association, rather than personal patrons such as Lucifer.

Not only does the term ‘Luciferian’ disregard my workings with other deities, I feel as though it also requires me to specify that I am a theistic Luciferian—which then leads to the connection to the biblical Lucifer, and monotheism. Its much easier to say that I’m pagan, and that my patron is Lucifer (or rather Prometheus)

While I’m partially out of the broom closet as a pagan, I can’t see myself as outing myself as a Luciferian. The stigma attached to that term is far more negative and far-reaching than ‘pagan’, because even non-christians think of the biblical devil when the name Lucifer is mentioned. In pagan communities, however, I find myself almost equally as ostracized. In their attempts to make paganism more acceptable to the public or innocent, many make statements such as ‘pagans don’t believe in or worship the devil/satan/lucifer’, trying to separate the public’s concepts of satanism and paganism. While this does bother me, it isn’t the main cause of my discontent—I can understand that they’re trying to educate the ignorant that they’re not what the media makes them appear to be, and in the process generalizing all pagans—it bothers me that so many seem to see my belief and devotion to Lucifer as a personal attack on themselves and their religion. Maybe they think I’ll reaffirm the very beliefs they’re trying to correct, or they too automatically jump to the conclusion that i’m a ‘devil worshipper’ posing as a pagan.

Thus, my hesitation with mentioning Lucifer as my patron, and instead referring to him as Prometheus.