I tell you the truth, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. John 6:53 NIV
The plaque indentified the owner of the Full Moon Inn as a certified member of the Professional Vampirologist Association.
The boy looked up from a paranormal novel and asked, “Do you really believe there are such things as vampires?”
“Seen ‘em, I have,” the innkeeper replied. “Here let me show you.” He pulled a dusty volume from the shelf. “This book traces the legend of the vampire back to its origins. Most folks think Lord Byron and Bram Stoker started the myth but it began centuries before. See for yourself.”
The old man opened the book to a chapter entitled: The Holy Supper – Man’s Quest for Immortality and pointed to a passage. “You read. My eyes are tired.”
“I tell you the truth,” the boy began. “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no–”
“Life in you,” the man interrupted. “For whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink.” The old man paused and looked into the boy’s eyes. “You know who said this, right?”
Hesitating, the boy answered. “Jesus?”
“And remember how he was killed? Come on, lad. His symbol’s everywhere.”
“On a cross?” the boy answered.
“Not just a cross. A wooden stake! Don’t you see? Drinking blood and eating of flesh… it all started with the killing of Christ. According to legend, three days after they killed him, he rose from the grave. Same with vampires. He promised eternal life. Vampires promise life too. Only their kind of immortality comes with darkness and endless craving.”
“How do you know?” the boy asked. “Have you ever seen one?”
The innkeeper grinned wickedly and whispered, “Yes, lad. Every time I look at my reflection.”
The boy, tumbling backwards, reached for the door but as his fingers fumbled for the latch, he knew it was too late. The old man’s breath warmed his neck and then…
Okay, so this isn’t exactly the story Christ wanted his followers to write but for many the allure of the occult is an obsession. Our culture is fixated on death and dying and has exchanged the transforming power of Christ’s Spirit for the grotesque bloodletting and sexually suggestive appeal of the paranormal romance.
But what if it’s true? What if the full moon myth of the blood transfusion promised by Christ is real?
We like our monsters. They remind us evil is real but the mirage fades with the closing credits or the last page of the novel. True evil, though, lurks in the shadows of our fears and whispers, ”All hope is gone. Seek death and escape the pain.”
Resist the lie.
The transforming power of Christ is real. Yes, there is blood to be spilled but it is His, not ours. Yes there is pain, but He comforts those who suffer. Yes there is despair, but He promises hope. Christ didn’t come to suck the life from the party but to impart His life into you.
Want to reach kids for Christ. Read them a scary book full of monsters and werewolves, witches and zombies. Read them the Bible. There you’ll find whole sections on how to become “undead.” Without Christ, the end is terrifying.