651_Spiritual Scam

651-Evan and Rev Discuss Avoiding the Spiritual Socialism Scam and Mastering Mystic Abilities · Crysticism 651

Chapter 1: Evan and Rev Discuss the Flaws of Spiritual Socialism and the Rejection of Mystic Abilities

Evan and Rev discuss the flaws of spiritual socialism and the widespread rejection of mystic abilities as they observe their peers in the slick, reflective school courtyard just after the rain stops. Students move in noisy clusters, splashing through puddles with their heads bent over screens. Near the back entrance, under the overhang, Rev and Evan lean against a brick wall, watching the chaos. Rev pushes his glasses up his nose and squints out at the field, trying to decode the whole mess of human behavior as if it is a glitchy simulation, before breaking the silence.

“Why is spiritual socialism such a fail?” Rev asks.

Evan glances at him and replies, “The people are given lessons and examples on how to develop their mystic talents. How to stream Holy Spirit energy. But they don’t bother. They just…neglect it.” He watches a group of kids shouting over a viral clip.

Rev’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Access to actual superpowers. Who ignores classes on that? Who would blow off learning how to master mystic abilities?”

Looking down at his hands, Evan says, “Someone lies to them. Tells them their Savior is just putting on a show—demonstrating what He can do, not what they’re supposed to do. They’re told to stand by and wait. Just chill till their Savior comes back and puts on one last great performance.”

Rev lets that sink in. “So they’re convinced it’s wrong to master those talents,” he says slowly.

Evan nods in agreement. “Absolvers believe they’re created as sinners, and can’t be trusted with mystic power. If they could do what their Savior did—and even greater—it would ‘steal his thunder.’ Make his final performance look less special. The show would be over. No need for him to come back and prove he’s the greatest man ever.”

Rev looks away, watching a kid slam his locker. “I never realized there’s so much competition in becoming like the Savior. I always think a real teacher wants students to surpass them. I’m raising my kids so they can become greater than me. That’s the point. That is the way.”

Evan nods once. “But Believers must be careful. Careful not to pursue self‑mastery. Because if they start becoming like him, what’s the point of him showing up again to flex?” He watches a group gather for a prayer circle in the corner of the yard. “They’re told to stay weak. Stay sinful. Stay incompetent. So their Savior keeps looking better than them. Their Savior has to stay the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow—so nobody should dare copy or, God forbid, outperform him.”

Rev exhales sharply. “Who even teaches that kind of nonsense? And why isn’t anyone exposing those deceivers? All scams have a hidden threat, plus a big promised payout. What are Believers afraid of?”

Evan’s eyes darken. “Believers are taught their only mission is to believe whatever they’re told. No questions. Then convince other people to believe the same. Absolvers get threatened with eternal torture if they don’t accept and chase that one simple mission. They expect a reward. For blind faith.”

Rev nods slowly. “Scammers always guarantee abundant blessings if you trust the scam completely.” Thinking of pop-up ads, fake scholarships, and prosperity preachers, he adds, “In hindsight, the people tricked always say they knew it was too easy. Their conscience nudges them to dig deeper, but the scammers warn them not to rock the boat. Or they’ll lose everything.”

Evan folds his arms. “People who get scammed act on fantasy and make-believe. They don’t verify the source first. They lean on wishful thinking instead of logical research.”

A gust of wind moves through the courtyard, scattering leaves and wrappers. For a moment, Rev feels like the whole school is one big case study in spiritual phishing.

Chapter 2: Abby, Rev, and Evan Debate Heaven, Mansions, and Directing Mystic Energy

As Abby, Rev, and Evan debate Heaven, mansions, and directing mystic energy, the nearly empty cafeteria provides a quiet backdrop for their discussion. Later that week, the three of them sit together at a table after school, where the buzz of lunch is gone; only the hum of the drink cooler and the faint echo of someone bouncing a basketball down the hall remain. Abby doodles mansion floor plans in the margin of her notebook, her eyes bright.

“Believers expect to get their own mansion in Heaven,” Abby says. “My Savior says he’s going to prepare a place for us.” She taps her sketch. “This is mine.”

Evan leans over the table. “The Savior’s a carpenter, but he never actually says he’s building a mansion for every Believer. He sets up a huge subdivision instead. A whole world where each soul can have a place to develop. There are tons of mansions on Earth, but only a tiny percent of people actually live in one. Some are in regular houses. Some in tin shacks. Some on the sidewalk in tents.”

Abby frowns at her drawing. “I’m wishing for my own mansion because that’s what I want. Are you telling me my fantasy might not come true? I don’t know if I want to sleep in a tent forever.” Her pen starts moving again. “How do I get someone to snap their fingers and just…give me a free mansion? I’ll start now. I want a hundred rooms, so my friends and family can live with me.”

Rev raises an eyebrow. “Do you really want that many people under one roof? You’d spend all your time cooking, cleaning, breaking up fights.”

Abby pauses and erases a portion of her sketch. “Okay, true. Wait. I want the main mansion to have thirty rooms, and seventy big guest houses around it.” She draws tiny boxes radiating out. “It’d be chaos, trying to stuff hundreds of people in one house.”

Rev leans forward. “If those homes are in your yard, you’re responsible for cleaning and maintaining seventy houses. Your friends and family would expect you to care for them, so they wouldn’t have to work. Most of them wouldn’t be happy with whatever you built. They’d demand remodels. Upgrades. Bigger windows. Different paint. And they’ll invite their friends. Their families and their imperfect pets. And those people will expect you to expand their guesthouses. Pretty soon, you’re basically running a small city.”

Abby stares at her drawing for a long beat before crossing the small boxes out. “Hmm. I change my mind. No guest homes. Everyone else can build their own mansions.”

Rev smirks. “Even one thirty‑room place needs a lot of cleaning, repairs, attention. If everyone in Heaven expects an eternal, work‑free vacation, who are you hiring to help you manage a giant mansion? How are you even decorating that much space?”

Abby chews her lip. “I don’t know the details of how Heaven works. I’ll find out when I get there. I want to be surprised.”

Rev drums his fingers on the table. “If billions of souls each have a mansion, they’ll all live far away from their Savior.”

Abby slams her pen down. “Stop asking unanswerable questions. No one knows or can know what happens in Heaven. It’s forbidden info. There are only two choices. Believers are guaranteed that Heaven will be wonderful. Hell will be torture. Which do you pick?”

Evan looks at her steadily. “There are pages of detailed descriptions of Hell. And you claim those souls never leave. Why can we know so much about Hell, but not Heaven?”

Rev snorts. “Hell works as blackmail. To push Believers into worshiping their ‘all‑loving’ Creator.”

Evan nods. “We can know what to expect after we die. Souls who are there now already know. Some have told people about it. People wrote those things down in books. They say each soul is responsible for building their own afterworld place. Starting while they’re still in a human body.”

Rev’s eyes light up. “I like that. Over many lifetimes, I can keep adding to my heavenly home. And visit it between lives. What do you need to build something like that?”

Evan’s eyes gleam. “Creation in the afterworld runs on thoughts, feelings, and words. You have to direct and condense mystic spirit energy into your own building blocks.”

Rev whistles. “That sounds super high-tech. What kind of gear smashes light into plywood?”

Evan laughs once. “Every soul has seven energy centers. You can decorate and stream mystic light out from them.” He lifts a hand with his fingers spread, drawing slow circles in the air. “Think of the soul as a self-guided 3D printer. Radiating liquid light. Layer after layer, building whatever your heart and mind imagine. Souls without focus just scatter their energy on the ground in random patterns. Their space in Heaven looks like a garbage dump. Souls with a clear vision build their foundation with wise, virtuous layers of iridescent mystic concrete. In each life, they keep evolving their skill at compressing and directing mystic energy. Their mansion gets built through their wise, virtuous choices in daily life. That mansion becomes a divine mirror of their growing cosmic wisdom, divine virtues, and disciplined mystic power.”

Abby stares at him like he’s describing an alien game she’s never played. “You have the weirdest ideas. I don’t know how to build a mansion. I don’t know how to work with mystic energy. Why should I learn? My best friend Savior does everything for me. I gave him my free will. He’s in total control of my body. Whatever I do is on him now. I can do whatever I want. He’ll change my mind and make me righteous if I decide to sin. You two should join my team soon, before my Savior closes applications.”

Rev laughs, then lowers his voice. “Sometimes I think he must be overwhelmed, trying to fix everybody’s behavior. Believers are out here doing some seriously harmful stuff.”

Abby shrugs confidently. “I’m going to keep doing whatever I feel, and stay confident I’ll be judged ‘good‑ish.’ If he doesn’t make me do something different, I’m free to act. If I believe I’m always being good, then I am. Anyone who thinks we’ll have to build our own mansion in Heaven is living in a fantasy.”

Evan studies her. “So you’re saying you’re no longer a miserable, worthless sinner?”

Abby shakes her head. “I’ll be sinful until my Creator gives me a divine upgrade in the afterlife. Last week, I went into a store and wanted to steal a candy bar. A cop walked in. So I had to change my mind. That’s solid proof my Savior is controlling my desires.”

Evan squints. “You told me you went back the next day and stole a candy bar.”

Abby grins. “That proves I’m still sinful. But the Savior didn’t stop me that time. See the advantage of being a Believer? It wasn’t a sin for me to take what I wanted—because my Savior didn’t stop me. I still got consequences. But it doesn’t go on my permanent spiritual record. My parents found out. Made me go back, pay for the bar, and buy two more.”

Diesel, passing by with a tray, pauses. “Why two more?”

Abby grins. “One for Mom. One for Dad.”

The table goes quiet for a second while Evan stares at her, wondering how many people might be building their entire eternity on that same kind of technical loophole.

Chapter 3: Evan Imagines a Story About a Scammer Taking Away Free Will and Cosmic Wisdom

While his class watches a documentary, Evan imagines a story about a scammer taking away free will and cosmic wisdom from a gullible crowd. A week later, in social studies, the class is supposed to be learning about economic systems, but as the teacher dims the lights and presses play to grade papers, half the students are on their phones. In the back row, Evan, Rev, and Abby sit together, the video’s droning narrator fading into the background as Evan scribbles "Scam Story" at the top of his notebook and tilts the page toward them.

In his mind’s eye, another scene appears, sharper than the documentary on the screen. A man stands on a crate in the center of a town square, suit sharp, smile blinding, calling himself Scam.

“Come follow me,” Scam says to the crowd. “I’ll lead you into a cooperative paradise.”

The crowd surges closer. “What do we have to do?” they ask.

“Simply believe I’m your wise superior,” Scam answers, “and that I’ll take away your problems and debts. You must trust me completely, and never ask for details about the outcome. I have more money than you, so I must be greater.”

In the back row, Evan hears his own voice cut into the story: “How can we become wealthy like you?”

Scam shakes his head. “Wrong question! If everyone becomes like me, you don’t need a rescuer. Once everyone gives me their assets, I’ll be the only one in a position to help everyone. Power gets concentrated and multiplied when it’s focused into one person. You’re weak. Uneducated. You cannot know what I know. So transfer all your assets and authority to me, so I can do for you what you cannot do for yourselves.”

In the story, the crowd nods, relieved. “We can all be saved,” they chant, “because Scam can be trusted to receive from others as he would have given to him. We’ll give you our homes, cars, businesses, so we can all be wealthy together. All we have to do is trust in you, and we’ll be filthy rich forever.”

Scam spreads his arms. “Give me your children so that I can nurture them. Train them to be normal citizens. Why should your kids suffer from your mistakes? Trust me. Never ask what happens next.”

The crowd nods eagerly. “Please teach our kids. We have no experience. We can’t be trusted. Take away life’s lessons and tests, so we’ll have more free time to indulge in pleasure.”

Scam nods. “Give me your wisdom, talents, virtues. I’ll take away your mission, responsibilities, goals. Why struggle with needless learning, when I already know everything? Be filled with blind patience. Believe I’ll make all things great again.”

The crowd claps in approval. “Thank you for rescuing us from carrying our burdens. We don’t want to fill our minds with cosmic wisdom or understand the big picture. Who we are. Why are we on Earth? What are the seven afterlife options?”

Scam steps forward, his voice low and smooth. “Give me your free will, so I can tell you what to do. I’ll guide you where I want you to go. Hand over your confusing creativity that causes rebellion and non‑conformity.” Holding up a book, he asks, “Why waste time making decisions, when I can hand you one book with all the answers?”

Back in the classroom, Evan hears his own question rise inside the story: “Most books get new editions. When was the last revision for that one?”

In the vision, Scam smiles coldly. “This book of FAQs covers every question for the next hundred million years. If an answer isn’t in here, then that question should never be asked.”

The years blur, and the scene in Evan’s mind jumps: people stand naked in the streets, their clothes and houses completely gone.

“We’ve given you everything,” they say to Scam. “Now we expect our reward. You have many mansions.”

Scam lounges on a balcony of a massive estate. “I do have many great big houses. And I need many servants, maintenance people. Come live in the basement of my mansion, and bask in my superior radiance while you serve and protect me from my enemies.”

The projector hums back into focus as the documentary drones on about centralized power. At the back table, Rev shivers and whispers, “It’s the same pattern. Different costume.” Evan closes his notebook slowly, leaving the word Scam underlined three times.

Chapter 4: Evan Explains the Four Types of Souls and the Importance of Cosmic Wisdom

Gathered behind the gym, Evan explains the four types of souls and the importance of cosmic wisdom to his friends. After school, they regroup at a picnic table where the sky is streaked with pink, and the air smells faintly of exhaust and wet grass. Evan draws a quick chart on a scrap of paper featuring three columns and four rows.

“Okay, three approaches to Heaven,” Evan says, labeling the columns. “Free eternal vacation, with a mansion and angelic servants. Earned payoff, from successful investments—souls building a mystic bank account and an afterlife home. And ongoing employment. Afterlife job openings. But only if a soul first develops cosmic wisdom, divine virtues, mystic senses and skills. Promotions based on real mastery.”

Rev whistles in realization, and Evan continues labeling the rows.

“And four kinds of humans,” Evan explains, “based on which story they pick. Dissolvers say: ‘I don’t have a divine soul.’ They expect their consciousness to dissolve when their body dies—unless scientists upload them to a server. Absolvers say: ‘My Savior absolved all my karma. He’ll make me perfect when I die. Then my rich Father gives me a free mansion and angel servants for my eternal comfort.’ Revolvers: ‘Live many lives to experience everything.’ Spin through reincarnations for the thrill, not necessarily growth. Evolvers. Souls who live many lives as students.”

Evan looks up to meet their eyes. “The goal is self‑mastery of Cosmic Wisdom, Divine Virtues, and superpowers. Like the nine gifts of the Holy Spirit.” The air around the table prickles, feeling like static becoming organized. “When these souls graduate, they get to keep their earned attainment. Their banked spiritual energy. Their creative free will. They keep evolving in the spirit world, and help souls on Earth evolve too. These are the only souls acting as spirit warriors. Directly opposing the indestructible, unseen evil one.”

Abby looks up sharply. “Devils,” she says softly.

Evan nods in confirmation. “Invisible Tempters working behind the scenes to block souls from evolving. From graduating from soul school. The Tempters have declared war against the Divine Father and are attacking his innocent children to get revenge. Evolving souls work to develop their powers so that they can protect themselves. And others. These warriors aren’t waiting for the Creator to nuke all evil in some future disaster. They’re not sitting around for another flood or firestorm to fix things.” Evan visualizes monks in caves, activists in streets, and kids quietly choosing kindness when cruelty is easier. “Soul students work with graduated Masters to oppose Fallen Angels, Watchers, Nephilim, even space aliens who want to distract souls from self-mastery and graduation.”

Rev swallows hard. “They don’t just expose the Truth,” Evan says. “They try to vanquish the core enemies. The ones manipulating humans to wreck themselves.”

Silence settles over the table as Abby looks from the chart to the sky.

“I’ve always thought I’m an Absolver,” she says quietly, her hand tightening around her water bottle. “But part of me…” she trails off. Part of her, the part that can’t shake her guilt over the candy bar, the part that lies awake at 2 a.m. wondering if she’s addicted to being “goodish” instead of truly good, leans toward the last row. Toward war.

Rev feels a strange weight lift, then settles differently. The idea that he’s allowed more than two options—saved or doomed—hits him like fresh air after a long time in a small room.

Abby stares at the chart, her heart pounding. Her whole life has been built on the belief that she is too broken to become anything more than a pet in a perfect zoo. Now, for the first time, she sees a fourth category where her fear—of being useless, of being tricked, of being stuck—might be the starting point, not the ending.

The bell tower chimes the hour as the three of them sit there, teenagers at a picnic table, their souls brushing against a much bigger story. The scam, they realize, is not just about money or mansions; it is about who they believe they are allowed to become. And that story is still in play. Crysticism explains how impersonal cosmic laws act. Crystic Mystics attend soul school to learn how to creatively and wisely direct virtuous energy. Soul students employ their mystic empowerment to call upon graduated masters to help increase their soul's health, wealth, wisdom and empowerment.