Sometimes I wonder why I ended up as a Luciferian. If I hadn’t been tapped on the shoulder by Lu, would I still have somehow found my way onto this path?

And then I stop to think about the central issue behind Lu’s mythos—rebellion.

Rebellion is as much a part of my daily life as it is a part of my spirituality.

Rebellion is in my blood. My mere existence is a rebellion against the attempted genocide of my ancestors. My culture and traditions are a rebellion against the attempted erasure and assimilation of my people. The color of my skin is a rebellion against society’s ideals of beauty. My home is a rebellion against those who claim I don’t belong here. My lack of shame toward the fact that my family came here illegally is a rebellion—a rebellion against the very people who funded the civil war that tore my family’s homeland apart, the same people who now urge us to return.

I am a rebellion against the stereotypes of my people. I am a rebellion against the idea that I must be uneducated and lazy. I rebel against the notion that all my people are all criminals, that we’re all gang members and cholos.

I rebel against the idea that we have nothing to offer the community, that all we do is take away jobs and homes. I rebel against the thought that an indigenous school of resistance can accomplish nothing. Please, come tell me that to my face and I will show you the marshlands we have recovered, the GMOs we have stopped from entering our food supply, the injustices we have fought against and won.

I am a rebellion against the stereotypes of my faith. I rebel against the stereotype that I must be intolerant and hateful.

So maybe I’ll never be called to follow in Lu’s footsteps and rally troops or lead wars against tyrants—that isn’t the sort of rebellion I am called to do. My responsibility to my community, my people, my calpulli, and my god call for other acts of rebellion, ranging from protests and rallies against injustice, to much more innate forms of revolt as those mentioned above. Rebellion doesn’t have to be solely about violence and warfare.

I believe that those of us who are devoted to deities end up reflecting the qualities of those gods, but I also believe the opposite is true—that we are called by those that see themselves within us, however small a part.


What Luciferianism means to me

I recently got a private message asking me to outline the basics of Luciferianism. I thought I’d elaborate on my response and make it more public, since I’ve gotten the same question quite a few times now.

As you all know, I’m pretty uncomfortable with generalizing the beliefs of an entire faith group, so I thought it might be better if I gave the basic overview of what Luciferianism means to me in particular, the cornerstones of my faith if you will.

First off, it’s is largely about apotheosis, of becoming one’s own god. This means being held accountable for my own actions and words, of not seeking out deified scapegoats or dismissing my hard work as being due to the will of the divine. It means accepting my own mistakes and recognizing my achievements as being due to human effort. I do not look to the divine for help in my day-to-day life, not even to Lucifer. He is merely a companion and sometimes guide on the path that I forge. But apotheosis also has a more literal meaning, of actually transcending human standards into divinity. It’s about self growth. In this manner, I view it as recognizing and striving for the highest potential, all the while never forgetting the here and now of my mortality.

It’s also about asking the difficult questions, the questions that have the ability to tear down one’s own security nets, and shatter the comforting security that we have in our spirituality. It’s about always doubting, always wondering, always consciously making my devotion to him a choice. In this manner, my faith is never stagnant–it is always constantly moving and changing shape. I’m forced to learn to trust myself before ever placing such trust in others, including deity. Blind faith then becomes an impossible thing, something that can’t exist within my devotion.

It is about choice and free will, including that of faith and religion. It’s not just about our own religious freedom, but also that of Christianity and the other major religions of the world. We’re not just fighting for our own right to choose, but for theirs’ as well. We’re fighting for the right not to be shamed or bribed or threatened into conversion, of devoting oneself because you truly and wholeheartedly believe in the faith’s teachings.

It is that very work that has led me to appreciate Christianity, something I would have never thought I’d come to. I’ve found myself sharing more things in common with sincere devotees who seek to live as Christ did than I ever thought possible. So for me, not only has Luciferianism been about religious tolerance, but religious appreciation as well.

And it’s about Lucifer himself, and my devotion to what he stands for. It’s about the fact that he’s changed me for the better, that he’s given me new perspectives and shown me that there are things worth fighting for, that there is beauty in this world. As AViewIntoYourWorld so aptly put it, I’m flourishing under his tutelage. Luciferianism to me is about expressing a love so intense, a devotion so strong, that I can’t help but put my all into it. It’s not based on gratitude, or the giving of thanks, or repayment for granted blessings—it’s about honoring a deity who I greatly respect.