The day the devil cried is not marked on any common calendar. It began in a realm outside of time--an event directed from Eternity. Some believe the event was visible to our world around the year 16 B.C. And some remember it to this very day on the 8th of every September.
Nevertheless, it was a day the devil feared, yes, dreaded. And when the event took place, his passion raged, and his defiance brimmed over with the hot tears of his twisted angst. He suspected. Oh, yes, he felt it--a subtle rift in his kingdom, a sharp quiver in his heart.
A small crack appeared in the vault of his chamber. Hidden between layers of rock and other realties, a mysterious spring of water came to life. Without hesitation, the pure water began its Virgin journey into his smoldering realm, slowing dripping, echoing throughout the domain of the damned, drip...drip...drip...like the last labored breaths of hell's own dying.
Suddenly a breeze brushed past the devil's face. But it wasn't just a mere movement of air. No. It was a breath--alive, human, intelligent. It murmured and whispered in mystical tones. It recalled to his mind a war in Heaven, defiance and defeat. It spoke of ancient mysteries and memories of Eden: The Lie, the Fruit, and the Fall.-- betrayals, curses, and the prophesy--ah, yes! The prophecy:
"I will put enmity between you and the woman,
and between her seed and your seed.
He shall crush your head,
and you shall bruise His heel."
(Genesis 3:15)
It was a sweet, delicate breath--Female, Virgin. It wafted past the devil's face that day, surrounding him, enshrouding him, calling him to accountability. And midst the unmistakable scent of roses, She conquered him.
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