As Evan, Dad, and friends discuss self-control and soul superpowers, the teenage boy grapples with his feelings of vulnerability. “Dad, I want to live a better life than I see other people living.”
The words slip out before Evan can stop them.
Dad looks up from his mug, eyebrows lifting. “What brings that up?”
Evan stares at the table’s scratched surface. “I feel vulnerable to the future,” he says. “And I feel like I can’t change it.”
“Many people feel that way,” Dad answers calmly. “Who or what makes you feel vulnerable?”
Evan exhales hard. Once he starts, it all spills out.
“I don’t like where the world is going,” he says. “It feels like a spiral going down—less trust, less hope, less real caring. I feel like there are powerful, controlling forces with selfish motives, and I’m just… exposed. Defenseless. I can’t fight back. I want to run away, hide, and hope nobody notices me.
“And I’m afraid to stand up for what I think is right,” he adds, voice tightening. “Because people will attack me and call me names.”
Dad leans back, studying him. “You need a break,” he says. “Stay home from school tomorrow. Play violent war video games all day. Get those feelings out of your system. You’re still young. You’re not supposed to solve the problems of the world yet.”
Evan barks out a laugh. “Ha. Ha. Ha.” It comes out sharper than a joke. “Adults were young once, and most of them never learned to beat their vulnerabilities. They still don’t know what they’re doing, and now they’re stuck in their ways.
“I’m awake enough to see that the people around me aren’t mindful,” he says quietly, “but I also see myself getting pushed around by outside forces, doing stupid things. I want to feel powerful and untouchable. I want protection from evil attacks and manipulation.
“I want to find the core of the real me,” he finishes. “So I can act wisely. Virtuously. On purpose.”
Dad’s eyes soften, but his voice stays serious. “I understand what you’re asking,” he says, “but it’s complicated. To live a better life, you have to become a better you.
“The good news,” he adds, “is that you’re already far ahead of most. You can consciously notice that you’re not fully in control. Most people never see that.”
“I try talking about this with my friends,” Evan says. “They just shrug. They say teenagers are naturally rebellious and out of control, like it’s a phase. Like it doesn’t matter.”
“To be a better you,” Dad replies, “you can’t think, feel, and act exactly like everyone else.
“Hormones, instincts, and false beliefs all pull at your thoughts, feelings, and actions,” he explains. “Each of them wants to run its own game. Most humans are busy trying to get those three thoughts, feelings, and actions to cooperate; usually, the strongest and loudest win.
“If you want to be a better person, you must learn to override your human thoughts, feelings, and physical impulses. You manage your temporary body from the level of your soul.
“You have to live as a soul,” he says, “not as a human animal. Your body is like a horse. Your soul is the rider.”
Evan swallows. “Sometimes I do feel like a rider,” he says slowly, “but the horse doesn’t listen. It drags me into stupid choices, and my soul ends up covered in cuts and bruises.”
“The horse and rider are meant to be a team,” Dad answers. “The rider trains the horse to obey. The rider gives the signal to run, but doesn’t micromanage every step. The soul must train the human body the same way.
“A disciplined body responds to the soul’s reasonable commands. So ask yourself,” he leans forward—“is your soul in control?
“Or is something else?”
Evan looks down. The truth stings. “That’s my problem,” he says. “Most of the time, I only realize later that I wasn’t driving. I regret what I did, but I can’t change it.
“It feels like I temporarily become the horse,” he admits, “and someone else climbs on and rides. My stronger, disciplined side gets pushed aside and put to sleep. Then, afterward, I wake up from a trance and become the real me again.”
Dad nods slowly. “You’ve just described the effect of drugs and alcohol. A lot of young people use them to escape their normal selves and get stupid on purpose.”
“I’m not using drugs or alcohol,” Evan says firmly. “I hate feeling stupid and out of control. So why do I still lose control sometimes? I can resist temptations for weeks, and then something snaps, and I give in.”
Dad’s eyes narrow, not in anger, but in focus. “That’s an excellent question,” he says. “Very few people ask it. Most are more interested in distractions that lower their awareness than in anything that raises it.”
A quiet voice cuts in.
“Unrestricted experimentation is my pathway to self‑realization,” Diesel says from the corner, half‑smiling.
Evan turns toward him. “That’s exactly the problem,” he says. “Everyone treats moral collapse like an experiment. But the solution is for teens to build self‑control before they become adults.
“Most adults today are powerless to change anything,” he goes on. “They don’t feel responsible for the world. They never learned the discipline it takes to become truly empowered.”
“Obedience and long suffering are the most essential qualities,” Abby says quietly.
Evan shakes his head. “Self‑discipline matters more for teenagers,” he says. “Little kids start with obedience because they don’t have enough wisdom or experience to make big decisions.
“Adults set rules. Little kids follow them and get punished or rewarded. A girl gets spanked for stealing a cookie or praised with one for cleaning her room.
“As she grows,” he continues, “obeying the rules still matters, but consequences become more real. She can’t play sports if she’s out of shape. Nobody wants to be around her if she’s mean. As she proves she’s responsible, she earns more freedom—choosing her clothes, her bedtime, her friends.”
“My parents still tell me what to wear and when to go to bed,” Diesel says. “Does that mean I’m not responsible?”
Rev shrugs. “Early childhood is when you learn obedience to rules,” he says. “By the time you’re a teen, if you haven’t learned it, it’s probably too late.”
Self‑discipline. Obedience. Freedom. All of it swirls together in Evan’s mind, like puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit yet.
“Self‑discipline depends on aligning with agreed‑upon laws and limits,” he says slowly. “Rebels can’t force themselves to follow laws made by people with more wisdom and experience. They want shortcuts. They want to prove they’re smarter than the lawmakers.
“A rebel can drive a car at a hundred miles per hour on a straight road,” he says, “and feel invincible. But without experience, he has no idea what happens when that car hits a sharp curve at the same speed.”
Diesel grins. “When I finally become an adult—in like twenty‑five years—I’m going to make a bunch of new laws that cancel all the old ones.”
Abby folds her hands. “I believe my Savior fills me with self‑control,” she says, “as long as I’m obedient and long‑suffering.”
“I’m not looking for shortcuts or excuses,” Evan says. “I want to know how to live a better life. I want my soul to be healthy, wealthy, and wise.”
Dad nods. “Self‑control keeps the soul from misusing energy and makes real empowerment possible. But self‑discipline depends on wisdom and divine virtues.
“Making wise, virtuous choices takes willpower,” he continues. “You must choose to be SSS: Smart, Saintly, and Self‑disciplined.”
Rev smirks at Evan. “I dare you to wear a T‑shirt that says, ‘I want to be Smart, Saintly, and Self‑disciplined.’”
“All the girls would love it,” Abby laughs. “I want one that says, ‘Believers are obedient and long‑suffering.’”
Diesel rolls his eyes. “Why can’t I be self‑controlled sometimes and a Rebel at other times?” he asks. “Isn’t that what free will is for?
“If I use self‑control to be obedient all the time, I’m basically a slave who only moves because of threats and punishment. Rebels who lose control are proving that SSS rules don’t own them.”
Evan shakes his head. “I already learned the value of obedience as a kid,” he says. “I don’t need to prove I can be foolish. Most of the time, I am disciplined.
“But sometimes I still get tricked into dropping my self‑control,” he admits. “It’s like my energy bucket has a slow leak. I keep filling it, but it keeps draining.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Abby says gently. “We’re all miserable, worthless sinners. Just say you’re sorry, ask for forgiveness, and move on.”
“I tried that when I wrecked my dad’s car a second time,” Diesel mutters. “It doesn’t always work.”
“Let it be,” Rev says. “Find peace knowing that some consequences don’t show up for lifetimes. By then you’ll be someone else and won’t remember why your life is falling apart.”
Dad’s gaze returns to Evan. “He has a point, though,” he says. “Losing control means you’re vulnerable.
“Most adults never get beyond being ‘mostly’ in control. Their teenage vulnerabilities grow into addictions, attachments, and bursts of negative emotion.
“Losing control gets rebranded as a reward, a medication, or stress relief.
“But full‑time SSS empowerment,” he adds, “is a prerequisite for advanced soul superpowers.”
“I’ve got too much negative karma from my last life,” Rev says. “I can’t reach SSS. I depend on rewards, medications, and stress relief.”
“Only my Savior can have superpowers,” Abby whispers.
Evan’s heart beats faster. “If I earn soul superpowers,” he asks, “will that help me live a better life?”
Dad doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Complete self‑discipline unlocks the pathways to master control over matter and energy.
“You can learn to heal the sick,” he says quietly. “Multiply bread. Cast out demons.”
A chill walks up Evan’s spine.
“But,” Dad continues, “if you lack self‑control, those same powers make you a target. When you cast out a demon, it may attack you instead. When you heal a disease, it may jump into your body. You need full protection if you’re going to act as a mystic warrior.”
“Then I’m out,” Diesel says quickly. “With those risks, I’m not signing up to be a spirit warrior.”
Dad doesn’t argue. He watches Evan.
“Pay attention to people’s lives,” he says at last. “Look for the cracks.
“Notice where their lives could be better. Look for vulnerabilities—attachments, bad habits, false beliefs. Weak senses keep them from getting the knowledge they need. Corrupted virtues turn into chaos.
“Lack of self‑control,” he finishes, “sabotages their promises and their best intentions. Those with weak discipline invite others to step in, take over, and control them.”
Evan hears the words.
But what he really feels is this:
Somewhere, something is already watching to see whether he becomes prey.
Or a warrior.
Chapter Synopsis: Evan, Dad, and friends (Diesel, Abby, and Rev) discuss self-control, vulnerability, and the mechanics of soul empowerment. Evan expresses his fear of the world's declining state and his frustration with losing self-control, leading Dad to explain that the soul must act as a rider training the human body horse. The group debates the balance between obedience, rebellion, and self-discipline, while Dad reveals that full self-control and virtue are prerequisites for advanced soul superpowers and mystic protection.
Core Themes & Laws:
True self-discipline requires overriding human thoughts, feelings, and physical impulses, with the soul acting as a rider guiding the body horse.
Most adults never outgrow their vulnerabilities, allowing them to morph into addictions, attachments, and negative emotional outbursts.
SSS empowerment (Smart, Saintly, and Self-disciplined) is a strict prerequisite for mastering advanced soul superpowers and safely wielding energy without attracting negative karmic blowback.
Uncontrolled egos and weak discipline invite external forces to step in, take over, and control the individual.
Key Entities Featured in this Document:
Evan: A teenager seeking deep self-empowerment, vulnerability protection, and true soul control.
Dad: Evan's mentor and father who explains the rider-and-horse analogy and the spiritual prerequisites for superpowers.
Diesel, Abby, and Rev: Evan's friends who weigh in with contrasting views on rebellion, obedience, and divine grace.