Today I reread Christopher Marlowe’s play Dr. Faustus, followed the downward path of damnation with the hubris-drunk John Faustus, in his pursuit to be bigger and wiser and more powerful than God, wherein Faustus pursues “necromantic books” and the devils of hell to sound the depths of wisdom.

His end, of course, unlike Job’s, was not a blessed audience with God and a restoration of benediction. No. Faustus lost all because he, like the serpent of old, wanted to be like the Most High whose glory is not to be shared but only praised.