The Seed of the Serpent and the Children of the Deep: Tracing an Ancient Spiritual War

Clay or Sea: The Battle of Origins

"All things were made by Him; and without Him was not anything made that was made." — John 1:3 (KJV)

Christ created everything. The sea, the stars, the soil, the fish, even the flow of time itself. Nothing exists apart from Him. He is the Logos — the eternal Word, the divine intelligence, the preexistent ordering principle through which the cosmos was formed. But just because He made all things doesn't mean all things reflect His nature. Creation was made good, but not everything remained that way. Some rebelled. Some fell. And some were twisted into something that no longer echoes the glory of the Creator, but the chaos of rebellion.

In the Bible, the sea is no peaceful, life-giving sanctuary. It is a symbol of chaos, rebellion, the abyss. From the very first verses of Genesis, the deep is a dark and mysterious place: “Darkness was upon the face of the deep.” It is the realm where Leviathan, the sea serpent, roams. In Hebrew thought, the sea is not home — it is threat. It is unformed, wild, and filled with entities that defy the order of God's good creation. In Revelation, the Beast itself rises not from the heavens or the mountains, but from the sea.

Fish, then, become natural symbols of that realm — scaled, winding, slippery creatures of the deep. They share traits with serpents: both are covered in scales, both move in a sinuous, serpentine fashion, and both are tied to water, mystery, and things hidden. In cultures such as Sumer and Philistia, fish were deified. Dagon, the half-fish, half-man deity, was a hybrid abomination — not divine, but distorted. Not holy, but unclean. These images of fish-men weren’t expressions of God’s image, but examples of what happens when the created order is mingled, inverted, and hijacked by another spirit.

But man? Man did not come from the sea. Genesis 2:7 tells us exactly how we began: “And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.” We were formed from clay, not conjured from water. God used earth, not ocean. We are terrestrial, Spirit-filled, breath-born vessels. Our origin is deliberate and divine — shaped by the hands of God Himself.

Clay and water are not the same. This isn't just theology — it's spiritual ontology. It’s about origin. It's about spiritual DNA. Clay is moldable, earthly, and ready to receive the breath of God. The sea is wild, unformed, a place of mystery and rebellion. Clay can be shaped into vessels of honour. Serpents live in the waters where Leviathan lurks.

Scripture presents us with two kinds of beings — and their origins tell the story. On one side, we have humanity formed from clay: Adamic, Spirit-filled, made in the image of God, sons of the Most High. On the other, we find beings that rise from the sea: creatures tied to chaos, beasts, hybrids, counterfeit creations that were not formed by the hands of God, nor breathed into by His Spirit. These are symbolic of another seed — the seed of the serpent.

And this matters, because spiritual alignment begins with origin. You are either from the breath or from the abyss. You are either a vessel formed by God or a hybrid born from rebellion. Genesis tells us the seed of the woman would be at war with the seed of the serpent.

We cannot come from both clay and sea. There are two distinct lines, two distinct sources, and two destinies. The sons of God come from the dust, molded by divine hands and filled with holy breath. The counterfeit ones rise from the sea, born of deception, rebellion, and darkness.

You can trace this throughout Scripture and the world: the war between order and chaos, clay and water, light and abyss. One leads back to the garden, the breath, and the Creator. The other to the sea, the serpent, the beast and the bottomless pit.

Origins matter. And the truth is, we were never meant to rise from the sea.

We were always meant to walk with the breath of God in our lungs and the clay of earth under our feet.

Many propose that the “serpent seed” is not just a metaphor but a real bloodline, a hybrid lineage of spiritually corrupted beings that stand in opposition to the children of the Creator.

This theme isn’t limited to biblical tradition. In African spirituality, the figure of Mami Wata—a radiant, seductive water spirit—is often described as the “mother ocean whose children are fishes.” These “fishes” are not just literal sea creatures; they symbolize spiritual initiates, hybrid beings, or souls who exist between realms. In this symbolism, water represents the unconscious, the abyss, and the spiritual realm, while fish signify mystery, transformation, and hidden knowledge. The children of Mami Wata could then be seen as spiritual hybrids—beings born of an alternative, perhaps even rebellious, origin.

Roman historian Suetonius records disturbing accounts of Emperor Tiberius, who reportedly referred to young boys involved in his dark rituals as his “little fishes.” On the island of Capri, he allegedly trained them to swim between his legs, blaspheming innocence and turning the little fishes into something grotesque and profane. Whether the reports are exaggerated or not, the symbolism is undeniable: a powerful ruler corrupting the pure, mimicking the serpent in Eden, desecrating what was once sacred.

Each of these stories—biblical, mythological, and historical—points to a deeper, often hidden theme: the creation or manipulation of hybrids, spiritual or physical, that walk between worlds. The seed of the serpent seeks to invert God’s design. Where the Creator forms man from clay and breathes life into him, the serpent’s seed emerges from chaos, deception, and defilement—often symbolized by the sea.

So what does this mean for us today?

It suggests that humanity is caught between two origins—from the dust of the ground, or from the depths of the sea. From the breath of God, or from the whisper of the serpent. From the woman’s promised seed, or the legacy of fallen ones.

Tiberius, Mami Wata, the serpent of Genesis—all echo one unsettling truth: not all who walk among us are formed of the same breath. Some rise from the deep.

So why would any pope seek to blend the Genesis account of creation with the theory of evolution — unless there was a hidden agenda cloaked in theological language? Evolution doesn’t just deny divine design — it rewrites the origin of man entirely. It tells us we rose not from the breath of God, but from chaos, from beasts, from the sea itself. And that’s no coincidence. On the Origin of Species (1859), Darwin implied that life began in a "warm little pond" or similar aquatic environment.

This isn’t science — it’s ancient myth repackaged. The Babylonian creation story, like evolution, begins with primordial waters — Tiamat, the sea goddess of chaos, whose body was split to form the heavens and the earth. In both narratives, life emerges from the sea, not the Word. Order rises but not from the voice of a Creator.

Madam Folly: Venus, Lucifer, and the Wisdom from Below

Proverbs 2:16-19 –“To deliver thee from the strange woman, even from the stranger which flattereth with her words…”

Proverbs 5:3-6 –“For the lips of a strange woman drop as an honeycomb… her feet go down to death…”

Proverbs 7 (all) –“With her much fair speech she caused him to yield… her house is the way to hell.”

In the hush between myth and scripture, there lies a tale of a radiant being who once bore the light of heaven. She was known as Lucifer, the light bearer — and to the ancients, she was Venus, the brightest star in the dawn sky, the morning star. Resplendent in beauty and clothed in celestial glory, she dazzled even the heavens. But beauty and brilliance bred pride, and pride became her downfall.

“How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning!” — Isaiah 14:12

This was no ordinary fall. She was not merely brought low, but cast down beneath the very foundations of the earth — into the underworld, the abyss, the deep beneath the sea. For her pride, for her defiance, for her role in tempting mankind to seek the knowledge of gods, she was transformed. Once a being of light, she became a serpent — not always a snake, but cursed into one, cursed into becoming the symbol of temptation, deception, and forbidden wisdom.

She is the Queen of Heaven who became the Star of the Sea — not a title of praise, but a sign of her exile. Once elevated, now she rules from the shadows below. Her name in this fallen form is Madam Folly, the seductive voice who speaks not from the heights but from the deep. In the book of Proverbs, Wisdom calls out from the high places — but Madam Folly calls from the dark corners, alluring, cunning, and smooth with her words.

This is not the wisdom that comes from above, which is pure, peaceable, and full of mercy. This is another kind — devilish, sensual, rooted in rebellion. This is the wisdom she gave to mankind in Eden, when she whispered, “Ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.” It is wisdom that exalts man while defying God, knowledge that grants power but separates from truth. It is the seed of pride, the root of idolatry, and the beginning of abomination.

This fallen Venus, this feminine Lucifer, is the mother of all spiritual harlotry — the origin of false light. She gives birth to abominations on the earth, beings that are not fully of land nor sea, but a strange hybrid — children of both realms. Just as the sea, in prophetic language, often represents the deep chaos and the nations in rebellion, so too her offspring are born of confusion. They are not just metaphorical; they are real and symbolic — perverse, twisted reflections of divine intention.

This Queen of Heaven is not to be confused with the true Lady Wisdom who is with God from the beginning. No, this queen is the counterfeit, the usurper, the echo of Eden’s serpent. She is the embodiment of wisdom from below — the source of esoteric knowledge that exalts itself above the throne of God. She makes men into gods, not by leading them to righteousness, but by drawing them into rebellion. Her wisdom intoxicates. Her beauty deceives. And her end is death.

The world still hears her voice. She speaks through media, through philosophy, false religion, pride, through spiritual movements that promise enlightenment without repentance, power without humility, godhood without obedience. She masquerades as divine feminine, as liberation, as knowledge — but her fruit is always bitter, and her path leads downward.

The Mother of Abominations: Fallen Wisdom Enthroned

In the heart of Revelation’s most haunting vision stands a woman — enthroned, radiant, and monstrous. Revelation 17:5 declares her name in all capital letters, like a divine indictment carved into the fabric of time: "MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH." She is clothed in purple and scarlet — the colors of royalty and seduction. She is adorned with gold, precious stones, and pearls — dazzling, divine-seeming, but dripping with false glory. She holds in her hand a golden cup, yet its contents are unholy — filled not with grace, but with the blood of the saints. And she is drunk with it.

But she is not merely a woman. She is a system. A spirit. A mystery. She represents a deeply entrenched spiritual force — ancient and persistent. She is the embodiment of what happens when the feminine, meant to nurture life, becomes the matrix of corruption. She is fallen wisdom enthroned — the divine order inverted. A counterfeit of the true Bride, a mockery of holiness.

If Christ is Wisdom incarnate, then Lucifer is wisdom fallen. Babylon is the throne upon which this fallen wisdom sits — not in humility but in rebellion. Babylon is not just a city of brick and stone; she is the queen of spiritual seduction. She whispers to kings and rulers, to churches and seekers. She is the architect of false religion, the mother of every system that promises power without submission, knowledge without repentance, and glory without God.

Her wisdom is void of light. It is a light that does not lead upward. It lures. It twists.

This is the light of Lucifer, who once stood before the throne but now speaks from beneath it. The wisdom of Babylon is subtle and serpentine — clever, sophisticated, intellectual, and utterly godless. It exalts humanity while dethroning the Creator. It promises elevation but ends in ruin. It mimics divine truth but leads to spiritual adultery.

Babylon is the corrupted feminine — the inversion of sacred design. Like Eve reaching for the forbidden fruit, she seeks wisdom outside of God. Like Sophia in certain gnostic texts, she falls from the fullness of the divine and births not redemption, but confusion. Like Inanna or Ishtar, she is the Queen of Heaven enthroned, but her reign is seductive and tyrannical. She is a mother, but not of life. She births abominations — spiritual systems twisted from truth, belief structures that bear no breath of God.

Her motherhood is prolific. Her womb births religions that deny the cross, philosophies that dethrone Christ, institutions that mimic holiness while hiding serpents beneath their robes. Her children are not a single cult or ideology, but an ever-expanding web of deception. And they all trace their lineage to her — Mystery Babylon, the woman who reigns over the kings of the earth. Her cup is filled with the fruit of corrupted wisdom, and the nations have drunk deeply.

True wisdom comes from above. It is pure, peaceable, full of mercy, and rooted in the fear of the Lord. It bears the fruit of humility and leads to righteousness. Its symbol is the cross — the tree of life planted in humility and watered with blood. Its feminine face is the Bride of Christ — clothed in white, waiting for her union with the Lamb. But fallen wisdom, enthroned in Babylon, bears a different image. Its symbol is a golden chalice filled with filth. Its fruit is pride, control, and spiritual bondage. Its end is not life, but judgment.

This is why she is called the mother of abominations. Because corrupted wisdom reproduces corrupted things. She offers secrets, mysteries, enlightenment — but apart from God. She offers sacred language with no sacred heart. She offers power, but no peace. She speaks like truth. She shines like light. But she births only rebellion. Her spirit moves in cathedrals and corporations, temples and tech, doctrine and dogma — wherever truth has been twisted for gain, she sits smiling.

And she speaks still. The same voice that spoke in Eden — not with a threat, but with a question. “Hath God said?” She did not strike. She whispered. She reasoned. She offered a better way. Her weapon is wisdom — not the wisdom from above, but the kind that exalts the self and dethrones the Creator.

Mystery Babylon is not a distant, ancient power. She is here. Now. Speaking through systems and spirits, through ideologies and icons, through seduction and pride. The world has drunk from her cup — and many are intoxicated. But the call still goes out from heaven: "Come out of her, my people." Her throne is high, but it is crumbling. Her children are many, but their end is near. Her wisdom dazzles, but it will burn.

There is only one true Bride. There is only one true Wisdom. And she does not sit on a scarlet beast

Kings become gods by embodying her—the fallen feminine, the false wisdom, the spiritual system of Babylon.

Revelation 17:2 says, “With her the kings of the earth committed sexual immorality, and the inhabitants of the earth were intoxicated with the wine of her adulteries.” This is not about literal sex—this is about spiritual union, covenant-breaking, and empowerment. To “commit fornication” with Babylon is to enter into a pact with her system: trade truth for power, wear her symbols, speak her language, and reign in her spirit. The reward? Divine status. God-like dominion. A throne built on deception.

In nearly every ancient civilization, this pattern played out in the open. Pharaohs, Caesars, and Babylonian kings declared themselves divine. Many did so by marrying or embodying the goddess—literally taking on her essence. In Mesopotamia, kings would ritually unite with the high priestess of Inanna (Ishtar) in a “sacred marriage” to legitimize their rule. The king becomes a god by merging with the goddess. This was spiritual technology: embody her—the Queen of Heaven—and you rule the world.

That same spirit is alive today. We see it in leaders who seek absolute control while speaking of compassion and peace. In systems that promise liberation but enforce enslavement. In tech elites who pursue immortality, transcendence, and godhood through knowledge. This is Luciferic kingship—not through the path of Christ, but through union with Babylon, the mother of all that opposes God.

True kingship stands in contrast to this false godhood. Babylon’s kings gain power through seduction and deception, while Christ’s kings lead through humility and service. Babylon unites with the Harlot—fallen wisdom—while Christ unites with the Bride—true wisdom. One seeks glory now and exalts the self; the other waits for eternal glory and exalts God. One sits on a throne that is earthly and corrupt; the other receives a heavenly and eternal throne. One speaks with the spirit of Lucifer—“I will ascend”—while the other mirrors Christ—“I will humble myself"

2 Thessalonians 2:4 warns us of the ultimate blasphemy: “The man of lawlessness… sets himself up in God’s temple, proclaiming himself to be God.” This is Babylon’s final seduction: kings becoming gods by embodying her wisdom, not God’s truth. Revelation 17 tells us, “The kings of the earth gave their authority to the beast…” and soon after, “They will hate the prostitute… and burn her with fire.” The very system they used, they will discard when it no longer serves them. She is the gateway to false godhood—and then the sacrifice at the altar of power.

In the end, Babylon is the womb of counterfeit kingship. Her wisdom is the serpent’s gospel. And those who embody her rise to rule—for a moment. But the Lamb—the true King—slays them not with a sword, but with truth.

In every generation, there arises a man — or many — who reach for a crown that is not theirs to wear. They speak with spiritual authority, they cloak themselves in sacred garments, they stand before multitudes and claim to mediate between man and God. They offer forgiveness as if it were theirs to give. They proclaim salvation as if it can be dispensed from human lips. They sit on earthly thrones and call themselves holy. But there is a throne already occupied in heaven. And there is One — only One — who was worthy to ascend it.

“For such an high priest became us, who is holy, harmless, undefiled, separate from sinners, and made higher than the heavens.”— Hebrews 7:26

Jesus the Christ — not merely a man, not merely a prophet, but the incarnate Logos, the Eternal Son — alone holds this position. He alone is the High Priest who ever liveth to make intercession for His people. His priesthood is unchangeable. It is not inherited through bloodlines or conferred by councils. It does not pass from one man to another. It is eternal, heavenly, and divine.

“For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus.”— 1 Timothy 2:5

The human soul is made to worship, to seek mediation, to yearn for access to the Divine. But this yearning becomes dangerous when misdirected — when it is satisfied not by Christ, but by men who place themselves in His stead. When the priesthood of Christ is imitated or usurped by mortals, the result is not holiness, but delusion.

No man — no matter how eloquent, no matter how ornate his robes, no matter how ancient his title — can take Christ’s place. And yet they try.

This ambition does not come from above. It is not born of the Spirit of God. It does not emerge from the throne of grace. It arises from beneath. It rises from the depths, not from heaven. It is the same ancient impulse that spoke through the serpent in Eden: “Ye shall be as gods.” This is not new wisdom. It is the old lie in priestly vestments.

James writes:“This wisdom descendeth not from above, but is earthly, sensual, devilish.”— James 3:15

What kind of wisdom is this? It is the wisdom that seduces with ceremony. That offers salvation without submission. That glorifies man rather than exalting Christ. It speaks the language of Scripture while undermining the authority of the Word Himself. It mimics the beauty of holiness while denying its source. It is the voice of Madam Folly, the spiritual archetype of Mystery Babylon — the Queen of Heaven — who offers divine knowledge apart from the Creator, who bears children of deception and systems of idolatry.

She appears clothed in glory. She is adorned with gold and scarlet, offering wine from a golden chalice — yet she is drunk, not with joy, but with the blood of saints. This is not true wisdom. This is fallen wisdom enthroned. This is the feminine principle severed from the will of God and wielded in rebellion. It is she who whispers to kings. It is she who births religious systems that exalt man above God. And it is from her cup that many priests and preachers have drunk.

The Covenant Cannot Be Broken Without Consequence

To speak on behalf of God is not a small matter. It is not a role to be assumed. In the Torah, the priests could not even enter the Holy of Holies without fear of death unless every ritual was fulfilled with precision and reverence. But now, men walk into pulpits, onto stages, into palaces built in God's name — claiming not only to speak for Him, but to act in His place.

Yet Scripture is clear: no man can stand in the name of God while rejecting the covenant of God.

“They have transgressed the laws, changed the ordinance, broken the everlasting covenant.”— Isaiah 24:5

The covenant is not an abstract thing. It is real, spiritual, and sealed by obedience. One of its signs — declared throughout Scripture — is the Sabbath. Not merely a day, but a symbol. A declaration that God is the Creator, and man is not. A rhythm of rest that reminds us who is Lord.

“Verily my sabbaths ye shall keep: for it is a sign between me and you throughout your generations;that ye may know that I am the Lord that doth sanctify you.”— Exodus 31:13

To reject this covenantal sign — to redefine it, diminish it, or replace it — is to break the very foundation upon which the priesthood must stand. No man who defiles God’s covenant can offer His grace. No man who twists His ordinances can claim to grant forgiveness. They do not sit upon the mercy seat — they crouch upon a throne of pride.

Those who exalt themselves in God’s place do so not because of holiness, but because of a desire for power. This is the Luciferian impulse. It is the same desire that cast the light-bearer out of heaven — the longing not to serve God, but to become Him.

“For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God…”— Isaiah 14:13

This desire, clothed in religious garments, leads to spiritual ruin. It births false churches, counterfeit doctrines, priesthoods that claim to mediate, forgive, and save — yet are entirely severed from the breath of God.

Their source is not Christ. Their altar is not the cross. Their light is not the Spirit — but the fallen flame of a star called Wormwood, bitterness that poisons the waters of truth.

The result is judgment.

Christ Stands Alone

“But this man, after he had offered one sacrifice for sins for ever, sat down on the right hand of God.”— Hebrews 10:12

Christ alone mediates the covenant. He alone offered Himself. He alone stands in heaven, not in cathedrals made with human hands. He is not replaced. He is not shared. He is not duplicated. And His intercession is not outsourced to fallible men.

To follow any man who claims the authority of Christ while rejecting His covenant is to walk into deception. It is to drink from the cup of Babylon and mistake it for the cup of blessing. But that cup is filled with the blood of saints — the consequence of centuries of spiritual adultery.

There is one Mediator. One High Priest. One sacrifice. One covenant. One throne in heaven.

And the One who fills it is not a pope, not a prophet, nor a priest — but the Lamb of God, slain before the foundation of the world, risen, reigning, and returning.

Let those who have ears to hear, hear.