_{Grandfather Telling a Story, Albert Anker, 1884}

2026’s mid-term elections are being called a bloodbath, a blue tsunami, and a political rout. With Democrats taking control of both the House and the Senate, Republicans are left to ask what happened and how they can regroup.

But I doubt that the art of storytelling will receive much consideration.

Truth is, we’ve been here before. After Barack Obama was re-elected to the presidency in 2012, many conservatives worried over the results, what they meant, and possible course corrections.

Interestingly, some even asked whether or not political conservatives needed to re-learn the art of storytelling.

In After the Crack-Up, Lee Habeeb placed the blame for Republicans poor showing in the 2012 election not on politicians, pundits, or pollsters, but on conservatives’ “profound storytelling deficit.” He wrote:

…if there is one thing conservatives can agree on post-election, it’s this: The dominance of the Left in the storytelling arena is making a difference at the polls. It’s impossible to measure, but anyone who doesn’t think it skews outcomes is living in an alternative universe.

The fact is, it’s easier to sell a political narrative to America when it comports with the cultural narrative we see and hear every day. (bold mine)

Andrew Breitbart famously popularized the idea that politics is downstream from culture. If this is true, then winning elections requires winning the culture. When an individual, an industry, or a party, represents or controls “the cultural narrative,” winning elections is a given.

Habeeb concluded,

…the Left understands the importance of storytelling and dominates almost every aspect of it in the culture, from content creation to distribution. Regrettably, too few conservatives think storytelling matters.

We’ve invested billions in our great think tanks but little in the task of translating that work into stories the average American will care about. Yes, we have Fox News and political talk radio — important outlets, but outlets that narrowcast to the conservative base and are driven by politics and opinion, not storytelling. (bold mine)

Obama’s re-election evoked much consternation amongst conservatives. The L.A. Times noted that some called it the “Disaster of 2012,” a “devastating rebuke,” and the “Death rattle of the establishment GOP.”

However, that was 14 years ago! Surely political conservatives have advanced in their savvy and cultural influence.

Spencer Pratt doesn’t think so.

After losing his home in the January 2025 Pacific Palisades’ wildfires, Pratt became a vocal critic of L.A. city leadership, particularly Mayor Karen Bass. He announced a run for L.A. mayor in January 2026 and lost under incredibly suspicious circumstances when “progressive councilwoman Nithya Raman surged in the 11th hour” to oust Pratt and secure 2nd place. (Uncoincidentally, Raman is currently projected to win L.A.’s 2026 mayoral race.)

Shortly after the 2026 Republican “bloodbath,” Pratt suggested that “good storytellers” and “telling a good story” is the key to influencing culture and politics. In his lengthy tweet just two days after the election, he wrote,

If you think that high prices lost the election for the right, you don’t understand marketing. Humans have no problem paying a premium for a good quality brand. Notice the word “brand”, not “product”. Are Nikes better than New Balance? Nope. But the brand is better. And notice what happened when they tinkered with the brand and screwed their core narrative? Nike stock fell through the basement. Did the product change? Nope. The brand did.

It’s not the product, it’s the brand. Results don’t sell the product, the storytelling does. Will these newly-elected commies lower prices? Of course not. Are they gonna get you free healthcare? No, your insurance is gonna get even worse, just like it did the last time they tried socialized medicine. They’re not going to do anything they’ve sold you, but…like Saul Goodman said: if you’re committed enough, you can make any story work.

Saul Goodman is a fictional character in Better Call Saul and Breaking Bad. He’s an unscrupulous Albuquerque lawyer and a con artist who becomes involved in the city’s criminal underworld. In his tweet, Pratt included a clip of Goodman telling Walter White (Breaking Bad antihero) that it doesn’t matter how crazy a story is, because “if you’re committed enough, you can make any story work.”

Pratt concludes that even though the political Left offers crazy stories (i.e., men can become women, infanticide should be legal, men should be allowed to compete in women’s sports, socialism / communism hasn’t really been tried yet)…

…they’re good storytellers, and that’s all that matters. Are they telling a good story? No, it’s atrocious, but they’re telling their atrocious story effectively and compellingly.

In between these two elections, conservatives have, indeed, made inroads into the arts. Between Angel Studios‘ growing canon of films and the Daily Wire’s Pendragon Cycle: The Rise of the Merlin, we’re definitely seeing increased interest in storytelling among conservatives.

But if this recent election reveals anything, it’s that we have a long way to go.

Truth is, progressives have long realized the importance of art in shaping culture. And they have a big head start.

In his article on German philosopher and sociologist Hebert Marcuse entitled The Illusionist, Robin Phillips discussed the profound effect Marcuse’s theories have had on shaping American thought. Marcuse was part of a unique intellectual vision that came to be known as “the Frankfurt school.” The adherents were disillusioned with traditional Western society and values, believing that Western Civilization was something we needed saved from. Phillips summarized the vision of the Frankfurt School thus:

That vision was essentially Marxist, but with a twist. Whereas Marx believed that power rested with those who controlled the means of production, the Frankfurt school argued that power rested with those who controlled the institutions of culture. The school would come to include sociologists, art critics, psychologists, philosophers, “sexologists,” political scientists, and a host of other “experts” intent on converting Marxism from a strictly economic theory into a cultural reality. (emphasis mine)

The Frankfurt School inevitably came to the United States where its vision was progressively embraced by American academia. Thus began the “sabotaging” of American ideals, the deconstruction and revision of commonplace terminology, an appeal to youth (Marcuse was an intellectual guru of the 60’s counter-culture who invented the catchphrase “Make love, not war,”) and the slow takeover of “institutions of culture.” Ever wonder why the mainstream media, the arts, the entertainment industry, the halls of academia, major news outlets, and our youth culture primarily lean Left? Well, it didn’t happen overnight.

Which is why, on the eve of this most recent political “bloodbath,” it is worthwhile to consider the role that storytelling plays in conservative politics. And culture. As much as we may be seeing advances in the arts, both political and religious conservatives still suffer from a “profound storytelling deficit.”

Which is why Pratt concludes,

It’s not the product, it’s the brand. A great product can fall into oblivion with bad messaging…a single bad review from one effective storyteller can tank a restaurant. The “influencer economy” is lucrative for a reason; everybody inherently understands the importance of effective storytelling…except the right.

Perhaps, then, the real culture war is not between liberal and conservative ideals, but between conservatives who value the power of story and cultivate good storytelling and good storytellers. And those who don’t.

The post Storytelling and the Future of Politics (or Why Conservative Christians are Losing the Culture) appeared first on deCOMPOSE.

_{Saint Paul Writing His Epistles, French, c. 1618-20}

Nadine Brandes, a prominent Christian fiction author, recently posted a compelling piece on her Substack page entitled An Open Letter to Christians Against A.I. The gist of the piece is that, in opposing AI in art, we shouldn’t lose our own humanity, become “self-righteous,” and conduct witch hunts against others. She writes,

Our focus must be on Christ. On Who we’re fighting for instead of what we’re fighting against. Otherwise, we risk making our own ‘noble battle’ our new god.

It’s a great point and one that every Christian author should consider.

The problem is there’s a fine line between opposing AI technology and the people who use it. 

To be clear, most people understand that there’s a fundamental difference between using AI to research or aggregate material (Assistive AI) and using it to generate content (Generative AI). The majority of the AI debate centers not in the use of Assistive AI for writing novels, but the use of Generative AI to create content (which the “author” then edits).

It’s important to note that opponents of AI seldom challenge the value of Assistive AI. 

Podcaster and Christian author Laura Wifler recently surveyed Christian publishers about the use of AI. According to her research (a relatively small sample size), Christian publishers view AI use for research as “generally acceptable.” Generative AI is another story. She writes,

Across conversations, the most consistent line in the sand was: using AI to generate manuscript text is a near-universal no. The manuscript is meant to reveal your voice, your thinking, your ability to craft, and your readiness. It’s a major piece of what publishers are buying (the other piece is YOU). Across the board, all pros are fine with using it as a thesaurus or rhyming tool (the same kind you can get all over the internet), but beyond helping you find a single word, nearly everyone is against using AI on your manuscript.

The idea that “the manuscript is meant to reveal your voice, your thinking, your ability to craft, and your readiness” is central to the Christian objection to AI.

For example, biblical apologist and professor, Douglas Groothuis, suggests that Christians should develop “a robust theology concerning AI.” In his essay, AI and the Eclipse of the Author: The Image of God and Biblical Ethics, Groothuis suggests that God’s very nature “grounds the metaphysics and morality of authorship.”

Our ability to write is rooted in our being made in God’s image; it flows from our consciousness, rationality, agency, and creativity in God’s world. As such, it is a gift to be stewarded wisely and one to be protected from corruption by proper ethics.

Which is why, according to Groothuis, using AI is a kind of “literary suicide.”

When you affix your name to a written work, you claim authorship — intellectual ownership and accountability. When you plagiarize or use AI in writing, you attribute knowledge and skill to yourself that you do not possess. That is a lie. You become a literary pretender. This is akin to someone claiming to compose music he or she did not compose… you deny yourself true authorship for the sake of faux authorship, which is a kind of literary suicide.

A similar line of reasoning is behind the recent renunciations against preachers using AI to craft their sermons. In a 39-page guide titled The Work of Our Hands: Christian Ministry in the Age of Artificial Intelligence, the Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission (ERLC) of the Southern Baptist Convention issued a strong caution to church leaders about the growing influence of artificial intelligence in ministry.

AI can assist the pastor in preparation, but it should never be used to replace or substitute for the distinct calling upon the man of God to preach God’s Word to God’s people.

The authors’ warn that bypassing the work of personal study, Divine inspiration, and prayer strips sermons of their spiritual depth, authenticity, and humanity.

The same is true of the author who relies on AI-generative stories. Rather than reflecting the Imago Dei, they subvert the creativity, consciousness, agency, and imagination of their Creator for non-human mimicry.

In her Substack piece, Brandes acknowledges that “AI has wronged us all.” (Like when I learned that six of my books were used by Meta in a pirated database to train its AI without permission or compensation.) If this is so, then anger is understandable. Of course, resorting to hate-mongering or slander is definitely an inappropriate response from believers.

But opposition is not.

In fact, loving the AI author means challenging that author’s use of AI generated content. 

I recently read about novelist Coral Hart. Using Anthropic’s Claude AI, Hart produced over 200 romance novels in a single year and, using 21 different pen names, published them to Amazon. While none of the novels were huge hits, they cumulatively sold around 50,000 copies, bringing in six figures. The author boasted that using AI, she is able to churn out a new book every 45 minutes. She told the New York Times:

If I can generate a book in a day, and you need six months to write a book, who’s going to win the race?

Though an obviously extreme example, Coral Hart is just one of many authors now cranking out content and attaching their names to novels written by artificial intelligence.

Question: How do Christian authors love Coral Hart? By buying her books? By applauding her innovation and ingenuity? By encouraging other authors to follow her lead? Or by simply shutting up?

And therein lies the rub. For by choosing to speak up, you inevitably run the risk of being labelled a hater.

In addressing the AI controversy, both Nadine Brandes and Doug Groothuis implore the Christian to not lose their humanity. Their appeals are two prongs of the same objective. When opposing AI, we sacrifice our humanity by giving in to hatred and slander. Becoming ungracious, legalistic witch hunters is not the way of Christ. We also sacrifice our humanity by signing our name to content we did not create, and by remaining indifferent about those who do.

Yes, the AI debate is complicated and nuanced. Navigating that debate will become increasingly important for writers. As Christians, we must extend kindness and charity to everyone, no matter where they stand. But in some cases, challenging an author’s use of AI generated content may be the most loving thing we can do.

The post On “Christians Against AI” appeared first on deCOMPOSE.

Warning: This article contains minor spoilers for ‘Disclosure Day’

The word ’empathy’ is having a moment.

Google Books Ngram Viewer reveals that use of the word “empathy” has more than quintupled since 2020. While the upsurge in use of the word has numerous possible social and psychological explanations, its ubiquity is inarguable. Teachers are now taught how to build empathy in their students while employers learn that empathy is an essential leadership skill . Empathy is viewed as good for your health and good for your business. There are now entire institutes for empathy research, with some even considering empathy as the only thing which can change our world. Which has led some to conclude that empathy might be the most overused word in the English language.

Perhaps it’s no surprise then that empathy plays such a big part in Steven Spielberg’s latest film, Disclosure Day. Neither is it surprising that the ability is framed as salvific.

Spielberg conveniently ruffled some feathers before the film’s release by suggesting that its subject could actually challenge viewers’ belief in Christianity. One reviewer writes, “While the movie centers on humanity confronting evidence of alien life, Spielberg has suggested that its most provocative questions may have less to do with science and more to do with faith. In fact, the legendary filmmaker believes the film could leave some viewers questioning long-held assumptions about religion and humanity’s place in the universe.” Though Spielberg’s original remarks did not specify Christianity, some went so far as to suggest that Spielberg’s new film might spark fresh fear over the Christian Faith.

However, the “fresh fears” and “fury” some predicted from Christians never really materialized. Nor did the mass exodus from the faith. In fact, some reported that religious leaders were “surprisingly chill about aliens.” Christian podcaster Josh Daws wrote on his X account, “Hollywood is obsessed with the idea that the discovery of aliens will rock Christian faith,” adding “No it won’t.” Eric Sammons, editor-in-chief of Crisis Magazine wrote, “The only people who think the existence of aliens would mess with Christianity are non-Christians who don’t understand the first thing about Christianity.” Turns out, Christians like C.S. Lewis, Michael Heiser, and others have been noodling about the subject for quite some time.

So while Disclosure Day appears unlikely to rock many a Christian’s faith, its religious messaging is still very much worth worth interrogation.

And there are many religious references in the movie. Nuns, crucifixes, Bible quotes, theological discussions, and stigmata all make appearances. In fact, one reviewer described the film as an “exploration of theological beliefs and biblical imagery.” However, at the center of the film’s religious messaging are the missionaries who deliver it.

In her review, Bethel McGrew notes another one of the movie’s many religious references.

Spielberg has teased a scene in the new film where a character tells us she was “raised to believe in a Supreme Being” and is now awed at the prospect of seeing “actual supreme beings.” “The world can’t handle both,” she asserts.

Of course, the “supreme beings” referenced by this character happen to be of the extra-terrestrial variety. In fact, the “disclosure” of said extraterrestrials is the revelation Spielberg’s film is steering us towards.

This isn’t the first time Spielberg has synthesized religion and UFOlogy. Nor is it the first time the director has cast non-terrestrial visitors as messianic. Both Close Encounters of the Third Kind and ET: The Extraterrestrial are riddled with similar religious imagery. The former film’s climax occurs on a Sinai-esque mountaintop as thunderous, fiery interstellar crafts descend to awestruck witnesses who greet wise, benevolent, glowing non-human entities who will whisk their devotees to the stars. ET is even more forthright. As the earthbound alien seeks to return to the heavens, he assembles a ragtag group of followers, is captured by authorities, dies, is raised from the dead, and then ascends back to the heavens. But not before telling them to “be good” and then promising them he will always be present with them (“I’ll be right here”).

Not coincidentally, the “supreme beings” of Disclosure Day also have a message. That message is “have empathy.”

Some have described the film as a tour de force of freaky empathy. Or as Trisha Bhattacharya summarizes in Disclosure Day makes empathy more powerful than any alien revelation:

…it is a film about empathy. More specifically, it is a film about listening.

The film repeatedly shows that understanding another person can be just as powerful as any scientific discovery. That message runs through the entire story.

…before we can understand beings from another world, are we capable of understanding each other?

According to Disclosure Day, the answer begins with empathy.

And empathy begins with listening.

This reviewer distills the entire film into “an examination of empathy.”

The message about aliens—the unknown—and how humans approach everything that isn’t familiar to them is a cautionary tale about how much darker our world will become if we don’t start accepting that none of us are better or superior because of our race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, etc. And yet, that’s a big thing to ask from the world. It’s too much. Almost every movie and TV show is attempting to do so right now because that’s how desperate we are for basic human kindness. Empathy.

Similarly, Cory Woodroof gushes,

Disclosure Day posits that empathy isn’t just a nice sentiment; it’s a celestial practicality, an evolutionary advantage to withstanding extinction.

Woodruff goes on to describe empathy as far more than just an ability or an emotion — it is a “righteous bridge to the new world.” In fact, in his interview with Stephen Colbert for the film’s release, the director described empathy as “the ultimate superpower.”

Clearly, empathy is an unparalleled force for some. It’s “as powerful as any scientific discovery,” a “celestial practicality” which gives us “an evolutionary advantage,” a “righteous bridge to a new world.” Indeed, empathy is our “ultimate superpower”!

And this is exactly where Spielberg’s alien gospel and biblical Christianity bump heads.

Writing for the Gospel Coalition, Brett McCracken summarizes,

Disclosure Day is a sincere and hopeful film, but what’s the source of that hope? Does humanity have the capacity to overcome its divisions and misunderstandings if it just prioritizes empathy enough? If that’s Spielberg’s hope, it feels naive.

In their piece, Can Aliens Save Us, Christian thinktank Theos concludes,

Empathy is certainly not a bad thing… But empathy alone is a very thin gospel. It does not tell us what is true. It does not tell us what is good. It does not tell us how to order our loves, forgive our enemies, restrain our desires, or face death. It is a good feeling more of us should feel, but not a panacaea.

In the most basic sense, empathy is simply an action or ability to understand, be aware of, be sensitive to, and vicariously experience the feelings, thoughts, and experiences of someone else. This is a good thing. However, empathy, like other virtues, must be grounded in what is right and good. If not, it can enable destructive behaviors and make others vulnerable to exploitation.

Even worse, unchecked empathy can lead to the embrace of deceptive, unbiblical messaging.

The ‘gospel of empathy’ is one such message.

Perhaps this is why Rod Dreher described Disclosure Day as both “profoundly religious” and “profoundly evil.” He concludes,

…parents, priests, pastors, religious leaders all need to see Disclosure Day. It is a fairy-tale of re-enchantment for a Gnostic, occultic, scientific-technological era. Whatever Spielberg’s limitations as a storyteller in this film, he has produced a near-perfect example of the kind of false and deceptive story that we will all be led to believe in the Age of Antichrist. We have to have strong, well-informed answers to counter these stories, so we and the people who depend on us for leadership will not be deceived.

While Spielberg’s warnings that his latest film could create “ontological shock [and] social dislocation” among Christians is clearly overreach, the film’s messaging deserves a critical side-eye. To which Randall E. King, writing for World concludes, “The great director’s latest alien film is a good movie but a bad sermon.”

In this sense, the possibility of non-human lifeforms is not nearly as problematic to Christians as the message those alien life-forms might bring. And in the case of Disclosure Day, the gospel of empathy is a weak substitute for the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

The post UFO ‘Disclosure’ and the Gospel of Empathy appeared first on deCOMPOSE.

My wife and I recently visited the Big Island of Hawaii. The island is often divided between Kona, the drier, more bustling West side, and Hilo, the wetter, more bucolic East side. True to its depiction, upon arrival to Hilo, we were greeted by a downpour. A small rainforest bordered our rental property. We fell asleep that night to the croaking of frogs and the patter of rain amidst fern groves and mutant philodendrons.  

The next day, Sunday, we had a road trip planned along the Southeastern coast of the island. However, the rain still hadn’t let up. Knowing the erratic nature of the Hilo weather, and having a limited number of days to explore the island, we packed our ponchos and drove over an hour south to Kehena, a black sand beach which would serve as the starting point to our coastal drive. However, with the rain pelting our rented minivan, our hopes of enjoying the rugged beauty of the Big Island’s Eastern coast was quickly dissolving.

When we arrived at the gravel parking lot for the beach, it was still pouring. A few houses sprinkled the forest along with several juice and bread stands and an open-air community center. We turned around in the parking lot, and sat idling there, deciding what to do. We didn’t want to hike in the rain. But in Hilo, the rain comes and goes, so we sat there debating. Maybe the rain would let up. Or maybe not. Suddenly, Lisa said, “Do you hear that?” I did. It was music. Faint acoustic music. And singing.

It was worship music.

However, we couldn’t immediately identify where this worship music was coming from. We checked the car radio. Then our cell phones. Nope. Nothing was streaming on our devices. Finally, Lisa opened her window. Amidst the pattering rain, we could now clearly hear the sound of worship music, and voices, somewhere nearby. I backed the car up. That’s when we noticed a couple dozen people sitting under the open-air structure with their hands raised in worship. Apparently, it was some sort of church service.

Lisa turned to me and said, “You wanna go?” I said, “Sure.” So I parked the car and we hurried through the rain.

Several dogs greeted us. Elderly women in colorful dresses, flower leis, and flip-flops fanned themselves with palm fronds. A disheveled man with long hair and a wandering eye smiled as we approached. Tins of food were heating on several picnic tables. Three young women stood on the stage. One played an acoustic guitar. Another, a ukulele. They were singing Brandon Lake’s song, “Gratitude.” The lyrics go like this:

All my words fall short
I got nothing new
How could I express
All my gratitude?

I could sing these songs
As I often do
But every song must end
And You never do

So I throw up my hands
And praise You again and again
‘Cause all that I have is a hallelujah
Hallelujah
And I know it’s not much
But I’ve nothing else fit for a King
Except for a heart singing hallelujah
Hallelujah

Rain pattered the banana leaves behind us, keeping time to the rhythm. I stood next to my wife worshiping God in a tropical rainforest amongst strangers.

The moment was quite humbling, quite special.

After several more songs, the pastor, an older Hawaiian gentleman, took the pulpit. Apparently, he’d recently started teaching through the Sermon on the Mount. “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” he read, “for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” The pastor proceeded to talk about humility and spiritual poverty. We are blessed, he said, when we realize we are spiritually destitute. We need God. We can’t do life on our own. But this requires that we humble ourselves. Admit our frailty and sin. Jesus will not force Himself upon us. He is not a bully. Then the pastor said this,

“Jesus is pure aloha.”

This brought a big smile to my face. Not just because it was a cute, memorable saying, but because it was loaded with meaning. You see, the term aloha is a common phrase among Hawaiians. It is a term of greeting, as well as an expression of kindness or affection. But there’s much bigger cultural significance to the idea of “aloha.” Some note that the term “represents a profound spiritual philosophy encompassing love, compassion, and mutual respect. At its core, aloha describes a deep connection between people, places, and the natural world that extends far beyond casual interactions. As defined by Native Hawaiian tradition, aloha embodies a comprehensive worldview that guides human behavior and relationships.” 

“Aloha describes a deep connection between people, places, and the natural world that extends far beyond casual interactions.”

The term ‘aloha’ has roots that date back to the end of the 18th century in Hawaii. Etymologically, the term is derived from “the Proto-Polynesian word qarofa, which means ‘love, pity, or compassion.'” While the term ‘aloha’ was not developed with biblical or ‘Christian’ intent, it nevertheless intersects with deeper spiritual meaning consistent with Christianity.

Many non-Christian and/or pagan cultures have myths, customs, and traditions which reflect deeper Universal Truths. In his book Eternity in Their Hearts, anthropologist Don Richardson asserts that God has given prior witness of Himself to all peoples — even pagan peoples. Because of this, primitive myths, legends, and traditions often pre-figure and foreshadow the Gospel. Richardson goes on to highlight stories and prophecies from numerous cultures — Burmese, Chinese, Incan, African, even North American Indian — that reflect biblical concepts. The concepts of One True God, a universal Fall, Heaven, Hell, a Sacrificial Lamb and a sacred Book, have existed for centuries in hundreds of cultures… even cultures with no previous knowledge of the Gospel.

The term ‘aloha’ is another example of how God’s love and truth intersects so many cultures. Aloha reflects the biblical concept of grace, blessing, love, and mercy. It “embodies a comprehensive worldview that guides human behavior and relationships” and represents “a deep connection between people, places, and the natural world that extends far beyond casual interactions.” To say that ‘Jesus is pure aloha’ is to recognize that Christ is the perfect embodiment of the spirit of grace and goodness that the term represents. 

Uncoincidentally, as that service ended, the clouds broke and the rain stopped. The parishioners prepared lunch and invited everyone to share a meal together. We sampled some of their homemade macaroni salad before leaving a donation, thanking the pastor, and heading off to sight-see the Southeastern coast of Hilo. We hadn’t planned on going to church that Sunday. But God had other plans. It was one of the most memorable worship services I’ve been to in a long time. And it left me with a phrase I will likely never forget.

“Jesus is pure aloha.”

The post Jesus is ‘Pure Aloha’ appeared first on deCOMPOSE.

The classic Frankenstein story, like its Monster, has undergone many dissections. In fact, Mary Shelley’s classic has become a deconstructionist’s mother lode. On its surface, the novel is simply about the dangers of Man Playing God. But thanks to literary theory and unbridled postmodern analysis, Frankenstein is now about so much more. 

While some attribute themes of race and prejudice to the novel, others interpret the story as a political warning for our times. Immigration, entitlement, disability, and even colonialism are alleged to populate the novel. Queerness in Frankenstein is now a common trope among literary theorists, with social justicians and political activists regularly hailing the story’s inherent queer undertones. While some see Frankenstein as a metaphor for repressed queer identity, others see the Monster as giving voice to body dysmorphia. Which is why more recent interpretations of the novel even portray Frankenstein as a “transsexual icon” and a metaphor for the transgender experience.

Perhaps it’s no wonder then that feminist re-readings of Frankenstein are all too common. Feminism and activism are viewed as prevalent themes in Shelley’s novel, with some even describing the book as a “feminist masterpiece.” Whereas some see the tale as articulating a fear of femaleness, others go so far as to see the story as a declaration of “female resistance” in which “agency can be reclaimed through renarritivization and resistance.” On the outskirts of this interpretive fringe are those who even describe the novel as a proto-ecofeminist text.

Now, from this swamp of literary overreach, another beast has emerged.

Maggie Gyllenhaal’s “The Bride” released, not coincidentally, on International Women’s Day 2026. This contemporary reimagining of the 1935 classic, “The Bride of Frankenstein,” is described (by womentainment.com, no less) as the Perfect Movie to Watch for International Women’s Day. Why? As Variety puts it, the movie is “the Latest Example of a New Wave of Feminist Horror.”

Yes, “feminist horror” is a thing. 

Feminist horror is a sub-genre within the “woke horror” canon. While the horror genre has long been a vehicle for social and moral commentary, the radicalization of social justice causes has subsumed the arts. The horror genre is just one of many pop cultural commodities now being analyzed and co-opted by a new breed of ideological activist. As such, an emerging category of “woke horror” has lumbered into the light. For example, IMDb has compiled 99 “Woke Horror” films. There’s also a list of filmmakers leading the rise of woke horror. Some describe it as “a growing phenomenon,” while others suggest that Woke Horror has Always been a Thing.

“Woke horror” has spawned a number of identitarian-coded sub-genres including Gay Horror, Queer and Homoerotic Horror, LGBTQ+ Horror, Black Horror, and Trans Horror. Apparently, The Bride! unequivocally populates the Feminist Horror category.

Gyllenhaal has made no secret about her film’s message. After watching the original Bride of Frankenstein, she was put off by the bride’s lack of agency. According to PBS:

Gyllenhaal had never seen the Universal monster classic but was inspired to revisit the story after seeing a tattoo of [Elsa] Lanchester’s Bride on a man’s arm. Only then did she watch the 1935 film. Gyllenhaal did not approach this project out of a love for the original or Shelley’s novel. Instead, she saw the iconic Bride as a mute character and urgently wanted to give her a voice … along with a feminist agenda.

In fact, during one interview the director admitted that Trump’s election is what motivated her to make films like The Bride!.

Apparently, Gyllenhaal’s political and ideological motivations are explicit in the film. The Bride! is being called “a feminist reinvention,” a “feminist clarion call,” and “a bold, bloody, feminist Frankenstein freakout.”

However, the film’s messaging has, apparently, not bolstered its box office reception.

Variety mag bemoans, 

Director Maggie Gyllenhaal’s “The Bride!,” a feminist reimagining of “The Bride of Frankenstein,” has collapsed in its box office debut with $7.3 million from 3,304 North American theaters. Since the Warner Bros. film cost $90 million to produce — a staggering price tag for the horror genre — and audience scores are downright scary, it’s shaping up to be the year’s first big bomb.

Or to put it another way, ‘The Bride!’ Was Dead on Arrival at the Box Office.

While some are scrambling for explanations, even offering 5 Reasons why the film tanked, many cannot bring themselves to admit “Heavy-Handed Messaging” might be one of those reasons.

For example, Peter Suderman, writing for Reason magazine describes the film as A Feminist Frankenstein That Plays Like a Lost Remnant of Woke Culture. In Woke ‘Bride!’ Feels Like Blast from Cancel Culture Past, Christian Toto, host of The Hollywood in Toto podcast, explains:

Writer/director Maggie Gyllenhaal goes for broke on her second film, taking Mary Shelley’s classic tome and turning it into a MeToo lecture.

It’s a garishly beautiful lecture, but the film’s core themes are redundant and dull.

Men bad. Women good … and oppressed … and angry.

Business Daily corroborates:

Every male character is villainized, they are either abusers, gangsters, incompetent policemen. It’s a blunt, lazy approach to writing a character. Elevating female characters doesn’t necessarily require reducing men to caricatures. 

…male figures are uniformly terrible, and the feminist messaging becomes heavy handed.

IGN adds, “The Bride! is guilty of overindulging in feminist buzzwords and girl power imagery. But it never lives up to the radical display of female autonomy it promised.” Even the notoriously Left-leaning IndieWire describes the film as a “a wokified… feminist opera” which “feels caught in the drain somewhere between 2017 and 2020, a tale of female oppression curiously behind the times.”

As is par for the course, some are blaming the film’s bad reviews and poor box office on… misogyny. In fact, Gyllanhaal featured Phantasmag’s gushing review — Misogynistic Reactions Can’t Stop Feminist Frankenstein Reinvention The Bride! From Being One of the Boldest Studio Films Ever — on her IG page. 

Cultural commentary is a necessary mainstay in storytelling. But when a film or book shifts from storytelling to preaching, criticism is valid.

Writing for MovieWeb, in his article entitled Movies Where a Cultural Agenda Killed the Plot, Neville Naidoo writes,

Cultural agendas in movies seems to be the new normal in the age of wokeness (which may or may not be dying out). While filmmaking as a social commentary device isn’t new, there seems to be excessive amounts of cultural agendas and social activism these days masquerading under the guise of filmmaking.

When used effectively, social commentaries in films can often highlight and bring attention to divisive and serious issues, sometimes sparking much-needed dialogues about them…However, when films feature so much wokeness by forcing cultural agendas down audiences’ throats, they can often kill the plots of such movies, or at least draw attention away from what could’ve been a gripping narrative.

Feminist themes are indeed worth mining in art and literature. However, attempts to force “cultural agendas down audiences’ throats” should be justifiably reproached. Blaming “misogyny” on a film’s reception is a lazy way to deflect legitimate critique in favor of ideological insulation.

In the case of The Bride!, this cinematic cadaver appears to require less preaching, and more lightning.

The post “The Bride” is the Latest Example of ‘Woke Horror’ appeared first on deCOMPOSE.

However, some 40 years later and Cockburn now refuses to perform the song, claiming that audiences misinterpret it as a “call to violence.” According to his website:

Cockburn recalls the ‘scary’ experience of playing the song for 2,000 Christians at a music festival in England in the 1980s, and everyone enthusiastically singing: ‘If I had a rocket launcher … some son of a bitch would die.’

For reasons like that, he is not comfortable with people singing along to the song.

‘There’s nothing joyful or celebratory about it. It’s truthful, but that’s not a pleasant truth to me. I don’t like reliving it.’

So were the fans wrong in singing along to the chorus? Had they completely missed the meaning of the song? Of course, Cockburn is justified in not wanting to celebrate revenge. However, his song also reflects righteous indignation against injustice. And correcting injustice sometimes requires violence. So despite pushback against his audience, Cockburn’s song still resonates. It expresses a valid sentiment and a reasonable response.

Bruce Cockburn is not the first artist to take offense at a perceived misinterpretation of his art’s meaning. In fact, such ‘misinterpretations’ happen all the time.

Recently on X, author Autumn Christian noted how Frank Herbert, author of the Dune saga, was frustrated that his readers did not understand the series’ message. 

Read more…

Frank Herbert often corrected the prevailing interpretation of Dune as an heroic, space-fantasy epic. Instead, Herbert stressed that it was a cautionary tale against charismatic leaders. But while Herbert intended his series as a check against charismatic leaders and “messianic figures,” Paul Atreides, the protagonist, is commonly seen as a reluctant, but heroic leader. He is not the villain of the story. In fact, as Christian summarizes, “Dune is an awesome story about the triumph of heroes.”

Of course, sequels in the Dune series further develop Herbert’s anti-hero motif. This, however, does not prevent many fans from still seeing Paul as “a tragic hero, but a hero through and through.”

Which is why Christian concludes, “You can’t ignore the rules of reality just because you insist they are wrong.” And in the case of Dune, the “reality” is that the lead character is far more hero, than villain.

Cockburn and Herbert’s pushback illustrates a rather common artistic pitfall. Despite an author’s objection, Truth will always out itself.

This is especially true of heroes and the heroic.

In their essay on The Matrix trilogy, Christian Research Institute (CRI) explores the prevalence of a ‘universal heroic journey’ in myth and storytelling.

Mythologist Joseph Campbell sought to bring to light what he called the ‘monomyth,’ the universal heroic journey common to all religions, which resides in the collective unconscious of humanity. The similarity of so many ideas and images in different religions is because they are ultimately diverse symbolic projections of the same physical and mental processes that are within all of us.

Campbell would go on to develop The Hero’s Journey. This is a narrative pattern first developed in his book The Hero With a Thousand Faces. Campbell identified “a universal motif of adventure and transformation that runs through virtually all of the world’s mythic traditions.”

Perhaps even more interesting is the profound occurrence of this narrative pattern in storytelling. For example, one Star Wars fan page includes a nifty chart explaining how both Star Wars and The Matrix films follow the Hero’s Journey pattern in detail. This IMDb list includes over 60 films which trace the Hero’s Journey motif — from Fight Club, to Gladiator, to Kung Fu Panda, to Avatar.

This thematic reoccurrence of a “universal heroic journey” in art and story is reflective of “the rules of reality.” One of those “rules” involves heroes and heroism. We instinctively yearn for heroes and aspire, ourselves, to be heroic. In many ways, this pining ultimately culminates in Christ. Jesus is the ultimate hero and all our aspirations to heroism coalesce in Him. (I’ve written at length about this in The Hero’s Journey as Divine Blueprint.)

The thematic reoccurrence of a “universal heroic journey” in art and story is reflective of “the rules of reality.”

The Matrix is a good example of this. CRI summarizes how Neo, the central figure in The Matrix, represents a Christ figure:

The Christ symbolism woven into the story also is obvious. Morpheus, like John the Baptist, heralds the prophesied coming of ‘the One’ (Neo), who will free people from their bondage to the Matrix. Neo is sought by the satanic gatekeeper (Agent Smith), is betrayed by a Judas (Cypher), is killed, is resurrected by the breath (a kiss) of Trinity, and ascends into the clouds as he heralds his and his followers’ intention to preach their ‘gospel’ to all creation. 

However, like Frank Herbert, the Wachowskis (directors of the Matrix trilogy) inevitably deconstructed the film and their heroic character. In a brief interview, they explained,

…the first movie is sort of classical in its approach, the second movie is deconstructionist and an assault on all the things you thought to be true in the first movie…and the third movie is the most ambiguous, because it asks you to actually participate in the construction of meaning.

So rather than build upon the biblical / traditional hero motifs, the directors deconstructed them in the following films. It’s no wonder that others concluded, “the sequels pretty much destroy the idea that Neo is a messianic archetype.”

Nevertheless, the first Matrix film, and the response of its directors, remains a fine example of how authors and creatives, perhaps inadvertently, reflect the “rules of reality” and rush to deconstruct them.

Another film series that followed a similar arc was Star Wars. Not only did George Lucas incorporate thematic elements of The Hero’s Journey into the space opera, but there are numerous religious allusions in the saga. One of the most predominant allusions is its protagonist, Luke Skywalker, whom some have compared to a Christ-figure. One author writes, “it’s impossible to ignore the mythological embodiment of the story of Christ in the figure of Luke.”

Skywalker, however, nearly suffered the same fate as other heroes. The Last Jedi (episode VIII of IX) is often considered one of the worst Star Wars films ever made. There were numerous reasons why fans hated the film. One of the main reasons was that Luke was portrayed as “a jaded, pessimistic dick who want[ed] to forget about all the Jedi stuff.” Ben van Welzen writes:

Formerly an unshakable defender of goodness and hope, the Luke we see in The Last Jedi has become jaded, haggard, and cynical, isolating himself on a private island to die along with the Jedi faith. A now-infamous image sums up Luke’s transformation: after Rey (Daisy Ridley) hands Luke a lightsaber with seven movies’ worth of history and reverence, a history that resonates with the fans as much as it should with Luke, he carelessly throws it behind his back and silently trudges away.

After significant backlash by Star Wars fans, the studio hired JJ. Abrams to helm the final episode of the trilogy in hopes of correcting course. Writing for Forbes, Paul Tassi summarizes, “It isn’t just that JJ Abrams spent the entire first hour of Rise of Skywalker ‘fixing’ The Last Jedi. When you actually view the trilogy as a whole now it’s…almost not even a trilogy at all. It’s a duology… Abrams didn’t just try to correct The Last Jedi, he flat-out obliterated it.” This included Luke’s return as a Force Ghost in The Rise of Skywalker, catching the same lightsaber he’d chucked in the previous episode, saying, “A Jedi’s weapon deserves more respect.”

So despite the director’s attempt to deconstruct the undisputed hero of the series, Truth outed him. And once again, the “rules of reality” remain undefeated.

Another example of this odd little dance between authors / creatives and the “rules of reality” can be seen in Alan Moore’s classic, Watchman. The central narrator of the story is Rorschach, a socially awkward and ruthlessly fair superhero. He’s a broken man who’s been permanently warped after encountering child murder. Rorschach’s costume is black-and-white, as is his approach to life. Yet despite his flaws, Rorschach remains the most unbendingly ethical of his superhero companions. 

In Reason Magazine, Brian Doherty views Rorschach as “the moral center” of the story. In Rorschach Doesn’t Shrug, Doherty describes Rorschach’s worldview this way:

There are good guys and bad guys, and the bad guys deserve to get it, good and hard. Rorschach’s mission, from which he will not diverge, is to give it to them, no matter what the demands of law, government, or social mores. He lives by his objective understanding of right and wrong.

At the story’s end  — spoiler alert —  upon learning of a deceptive plan to frame another superhero for mass murder, Rorschach pledges to tell the truth. He will not lie to save face. However, his unyielding commitment to justice leads to his execution… at the hands of his fellow superheroes. Or as Doherty summarizes it, Rorschach “sacrifices himself in the name of avenging the deaths of millions who he doesn’t know. He does it for another reason as well… the truth, the facts of reality.”

Because of his sacrifice and unbending integrity, Rorschach became the most popular character in Watchmen. 

But apparently the author, Alan Moore, didn’t like this. Sound familiar?

Apparently, Moore intended Rorschach to be a bad guy. But to his dismay, he became a hero to fans. In his interview with LeJorne Pindling of Street Law Productions in 2008, Moore explained, “Rorschach became the most popular character in Watchmen. I meant him to be a bad example, but I have people come up to me in the street saying, ‘I am Rorschach! That is my story!'”

But despite Alan Moore intending to make Rorschach a “bad guy,” Truth outed him. Rorschach’s “unshakeable moral principles” and willingness to sacrifice himself for truth makes him a hero, a good guy.  

Sadly, this pattern is not unique to the authors and artists, songs and stories, mentioned above. There are many, many other examples. Truth exists and all good storytelling reflects that Truth… despite its author’s potential objections. 

I still recall seeing the film Juno (2007) after hearing about its pro-life message. The story’s about Juno, a 16 year-old girl who, after a one-night stand, discovers that she’s pregnant. However, Juno decides to forego an abortion and give her child up for adoption. The film was enthusiastically embraced by pro-life advocates. Even the official National Right to Life page has recognized the movie for its “undeniable pro-life message.” Of course, this didn’t sit right with its creator. Diablo Cody, the screenwriter of the film, relentlessly pushed back against that interpretation. She is described as “vociferously pro-choice,” even telling The Hollywood Reporter that “she was horrified when her Catholic high school thanked her for writing a pro-life film.” Her response: “I was like, ‘I f***ing hate all of you.'” Over decade after the film’s release, Cody now regrets it, saying she probably wouldn’t write the film today.

But perhaps even more revealing is the statement the screenwriter made to the Hollywood Reporter saying, “My objective as an artist is to be a traitor to that [pro-life] culture, not to uplift it.”

Diablo Cody, and her relationship with her own art, is a painful reminder of an important precept — We can’t ignore the “rules of reality.” The fact that an audience sees the Truth behind a certain film, book, or song, only pains those who live in denial of that Truth. Authors who “leave the interpretation up to the reader” often betray their intentions when they object to a given interpretation. If the truth resides in ANY interpretation, then ALL interpretations are valid. However, such an approach denies the “rules of reality.” The reality behind Juno is that abortion ends a human life. Thus, giving a child up for adoption, rather than aborting it, is the right thing to do. Sadly, Diablo Cody, and many other artists, seems less concerned with what is right and true, than she does producing agenda-driven content.

Dallas Willard said, “Truth reveals reality, and reality can be described as what we humans run into when we are wrong, a collision in which we always lose.”  The “rules of reality” will always win. Even when the author denies that reality. Truth will always out itself… no matter what the author’s intends.

 

The post Truth Will Out Itself… No Matter What the Author Intends appeared first on deCOMPOSE.

The audiobook version of Christian Horror: On the Compatibility of a Biblical Worldview and the Horror Genre is now available on Spotify. Brian Godawa, screenwriter and author of Chronicles of the Nephilim and Cruel Logic: The Philosopher Killer says this about the book:

Frighteningly profound. Duran’s balanced reasoning and sound biblical exegesis provides a sure foundation for a theology of horror for Christians. He shows with great literary and storytelling insight how both the Bible and other stories use horror as a genre to communicate God, goodness, truth and beauty.

“Christian Horror” is now available at Spotify.

The post “Christian Horror” Audiobook Now Available on Spotify appeared first on deCOMPOSE.

Most trace the origins of “cozy fiction” to the emergence of “cozy mysteries.” Emily Martin writes, “Cozy mysteries are still a fairly recent development in the mystery genre. The term ‘cozy mystery’ was coined in the late 20th century at a time when contemporary writers were trying to recreate the feel of the mystery novels from the Golden Age of Detective Fiction.” Tirzah Price adds, “The cozy mystery genre has its roots in early 20th century British mysteries (think Agatha Christie and Dorothy L. Sayers)… and as a response to the hardboiled crime fiction that became popular in the U.S. in the mid-20th century.” So “cozy fiction” was both an attempt recreate the classic “whodunits” of the Golden Age while also distancing itself from the grittier, hardboiled noir of the postwar era.

The contemporary “cozy mystery” genre is incredibly popular. A search for the term on Amazon lands over 60,000 results. In fact, the “cozy” genre has spawned numerous subgenres. For example, now you can find subgenres of “cozy romance,” “cozy fantasy,” “cozy westerns,” and even “cozy science fiction.” 

So what is “cozy fiction”? Author Karen Cioffi notes several features of “cozies,” as they are oft-called. The books exude “comfort, warmth, and light-heartedness.” They transport readers “to peaceful settings” and offer storylines “that emphasize community, simpler times, and emotional resolution.” These stories offer “nostalgia and simplicity,” and provide “escapism” and “finding relief.”

She concludes:

In an unpredictable world, cozy literature’s structured and predictable narrative style is soothing. Readers know what to expect: a slow, leisurely build-up, a connectable-to protagonist, and a satisfying resolution.

There’s a kind of security in knowing that everything will work out in the end; it’s quite the contrast to the often unresolved, cliff-hanging nature of modern news or the unpredictability of life itself.

This predictability, where everything will fall into place, provides a sense of control and stability for readers.

Which brings us to the latest iteration of cozy fiction — “cozy horror.”

At first glance, the very nature of cozy storytelling appears antithetical to the horror genre. Horror is rarely characterized by “comfort, warmth, and light-heartedness.” Readers of the genre are not looking for “peaceful settings” nor “finding relief.” Not only are horror tales often “unpredictable,” there’s no guarantee that “everything will work out in the end.” Nevertheless, despite these dissimilarities, “Horror” is the latest iteration of the “cozy” genre. 

At first glance, the very nature of cozy storytelling appears antithetical to the horror genre.

So what is “cozy horror”?

Well, this is where things get sticky.

A recent episode of the horror podcast, Books in the Freezer, describes cozy horror as having “spooky elements,” but also being “low stakes” and knowing you’re going to have “a happy ending.” Or as the Porter House Review puts it, cozy horror is fiction which follows the general conventions of the horror genre but “with a happy ending, or low stakes…or even if the stakes are big, it’s surrounded by humor, or a love interest, or things that kind of negate those big stakes.”

In her article on the subject, Kate Stallworth explains:

The perils of cozy horror are far enough from reality that readers are in no danger of experiencing them, and so we are free to enjoy the romp through a ghost-filled graveyard, a towering Gothic castle, a witch’s cottage with a crackling fireside hearth.

Likewise, in their article Frightfully Delightful: A Guide to Writing Cozy Horror, the folks at the Campfire Team summarize, 

Cozy horror strikes a balance between spine-tingling tales and lighthearted enjoyment, offering a reading experience that can best be described as ‘comfortably scary.’ In other words, it’s equal parts frightful and delightful.

Imagine stories where the supernatural or otherworldly is imbued with a sense of humor and familiarity—think socially anxious vampires and sentient jack-o-lanterns rather than bloodthirsty killers and gory deaths.

Settings are spooky but there is a certain inherent coziness to them—’homey’ haunted houses and cottages, candlelit school hallways, and misty forests that feel a bit scary, but also familiar. Characters still have to face their greatest fears, but they get to walk away (largely) unharmed. Bad things might happen, but good things happen, too.

In a way, cozy horror has an added sense of realism to it as well—it pokes fun at all the classic horror tropes, and it gives characters hope.

But while genre-blending is a common practice in the world of literature, melding cozy fiction with the horror genre has not been without pushback.

In her article at The Mary Sue, Julia Glassman categorizes this pushback. She notes that some objectors claim that “cozy horror is an oxymoron.” Others see it as “infantilizing.” Still others claim that “coziness is gentrifying horror, or that cozy horror robs horror of its essence.” She argues, “Terror is the only metric by which horror is judged, and the more terrified a viewer or reader can stand to be, the better a horror fan they are.”

In this sense, cozy horror can’t be scary enough to be real horror. By ensuring “lighthearted enjoyment” and a “happy ending,” any terror — which is a central metric of the genre — is thus negated. 

Stallworth elaborates on these objections, suggesting that “the way cozy horror has been defined” proliferates a fundamental “misunderstanding” of the genre. 

Western horror fiction as we know it today originated in the 1790s when a handful of authors began to blend elements of 15th century fairy tales and then-modern Gothic literature. One of those authors was Anne Radcliffe, who also coined the dynamic on which the genre’s foundations are built in her essay ‘On the Supernatural in Poetry,’ published posthumously in 1826. Terror, Radcliffe proposed, was the discomfort of anticipation, the tension of a held breath. Conversely, horror was the moment of release, where the reader is confronted head-on with a disturbing idea.

While stories that evoke “terror” and the head-on confrontation with “a disturbing idea” may contain many different literary and tonal distinctives, “tension and confrontation are the central forces of the story.” Because of this, “the tense balancing act of shock and suspense, is the defining element of successful horror literature.”

Which is why Stallworth maintains that cozy fiction and the horror genre are mostly incompatible:

A story that provides its audience a reassuring, insulated distance from discomfort and conflict is not terrifying; you cannot remove the primordial unease from the horror genre and expect it to retain its shape.

This idea of “remov[ing] the primordial unease from the horror genre” appears essential to the conceit of “cozy horror.” The reader of that genre delves in knowing the “discomfort and conflict” of the tale will be sanitized; “primordial unease” will be “imbued with a sense of humor and familiarity” and thus rendered only “comfortably scary.” 

By neutering horror of its essential elements, real-world evils are also inadvertently trivialized.  

But removing the “discomfort and conflict” of the genre undermines its requisite objective. For by neutering horror of its essential elements, real-world evils are also inadvertently trivialized.  

In his article on this emerging genre, Nicky Cammarata asks Why Is This Hitting Now? In other words, what about our present culture has facilitated the emergence of cozy horror? A fascinating question, to be sure. He answers thusly,

Because we’re tired. Because the real world is already a dumpster fire. Because sometimes we want to be unsettled, not undone.

Cozy horror thrives in a cultural moment where:

Traditional horror feels exhausting

Trauma fatigue is real

The aestheticization of doom feels more bearable than its brutal realism

It lets us explore the shadows without getting dragged under. It gives us emotional permission to feel creeped out while still staying safe.

It is oft-noted that horror stories provide a type of catharsis for their fans, with some even suggesting that imbibing the genre can be therapeutic. In this sense, scary stories offer a safe space to confront our fears. Some have even described this practice as “exposure therapy.” One academic analysis concluded,

…horror films provide a safe space for confronting existential fears, including death and the unknown while offering emotional release through intense fear and moral resolution.

That such confrontations correlate to real “existential fears,” whether it be random deaths, supernatural evil, or apocalyptic dread, is inherent to the genre. The Exorcist scares us (as do many exorcism tales) because it draws from real-world parallels. The author, William Peter Blatty, was explicit about his belief in both God and the Devil. To “cozy” such a tale would be to trivialize its essential message. 

While the “aestheticization of doom” may be intended to help us cope with life’s terrors, it only minimizes them. Toothless vampires are little threat. So while fictionally de-fanging the nocturnal beast might make for an easier read, it also unwittingly downplays real-life monsters. And those who fight them.

While the “aestheticization of doom” may be intended to help us cope with life’s terrors, it only minimizes them.

Chesterton famously said, “Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.” Likewise, the horror story tells us Darkness is real. Of course, we needn’t be told this. Each one of us knows, to varying degrees, the reality of sickness, death, violence, madness, madmen, and spiritual Darkness. In other words, dragons are real. By framing dragons as harmless kittens, we not only undermine the existence of real evil, but we demotivate dragon slayers. When real “existential terrors” are neutered, catharsis becomes a walk in the park. Such “dragons” needn’t be killed, only mocked.

So while the “aestheticization of doom” may help “brutal realism” seem more bearable, it also inadvertently makes “doom” appear more trivial. But can doom truly be beautified or minimized? More importantly, should it?

So, for me, cozy horror still gets the side-eye. Of course, I’m all for genre splicing and creative storytelling. But “removing the primordial unease from the horror genre” is akin to featuring toothless vampires. Better to frame moral and spiritual Darkness as something actually scary, than something without bite.

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Childhood is full of horrors. Which is why the horror genre is full of children. Films like It, the Babadook, The Sixth Sense, Poltergeist, and many more, all feature children grappling with real, or imagined, terrors. Indeed, growing up in a fallen, evil world is a horror every child must face. It’s no wonder, then, that so many stories blend horror with the angst of childhood.

The latest film from Angel Studios, Sketch, does just that. It’s a departure from the studio’s previous films containing overt faith-based content. Which, apparently, concerns many of their core audience.

Sketch is about a widower and his children who are wrestling with the grief of their mother’s passing. The creative daughter, Amber, begins drawing monsters as a way of processing her pain. Through unusual circumstances, those sketched monsters come to life and begin terrorizing the community. The family races to stop the monsters they inadvertently released, while processing their loss and grief. 

While “Sketch” has received relatively positive reviews among mainstream reviewers (the “family horror-comedy” currently stands at 96% “fresh” on Rotten Tomatoes), many Christian parents have objected to the film’s content.

Terry Mattingly, writing for Religion Unplugged, described some of the parental backlash Angel studio executives received to the film. 

One Angel Guild member said: ‘This movie is demonic. I pulled my family out within 10 minutes.’

Others shared concerns about demons, and [Angel Studios co-founder Jeffrey] Harmon said ‘dozens and dozens and dozens’ said the movie needed a PG-13 rating because of language and horror issues.

One supporter bluntly asked if Angel is still a ‘Christian-based platform.’ Harmon stressed that its motto is that it seeks to ‘amplify light,’ but that also means ‘demons are real’ and believers must defeat them.

However, parent reviews of Sketch on the Common Sense Media page were largely mixed, many expressing anger at the “family-friendly” labeling of the film which contained mild profanity and darker content. For example, commenter GranolaMom wrote, “We naively trusted the Angel Studios label (which will now change) and Common Sense Media… There was nothing in this movie that spoke to Christian values. If you plan on watching this, please know that the movie will likely be disturbing and troubling – even for teens.” Michael W gives the film one-star, simply saying, “This is a horror movie.” Another reviewer said the film has “demonic… extremely dark spiritual undertones.” Similarly, Emily B wrote, “My kids left the theater crying. Dark and ocultic (sic)” and concluded that Common Sense Media’s endorsement of the film was “big time bait and switch” writing, “I accidentally exposed my kid to her first demonic horror movie. What a massive disappointment by Angel!!!”

Even popular influencers Damien and Kenady, who boast over 84K TikTok followers, called the film “satanic,” suggesting it contains “demonic overtones” and “a demonic spirit.” Their video review cites one-star ratings from disgruntled parents who left the theater with their children and chastises the studio for caving to worldly voices. 

Of course, the backlash against Angel Studios did not go unnoticed by secular media sites, some of which gleefully mocked parents concerns about the film’s darker subject matter. The reviewer at Bloody Disgusting writes,

Concerned parents, many of whom identify as Christian moms, have taken to social media to express their disapproval — with some even calling for a boycott. These inflammatory remarks have been perpetuated by conservative voices who seemingly haven’t seen the movie.

A recent post from the film’s official Facebook page highlighting audience reviews only stoked the flames, contrasting five-star praise with one-star condemnations.

‘This movie is demonic. I pulled my family out within 10 minutes,’ reads one review. Another warns, ‘PARENTS BEWARE. Do not be fooled by the PG rating.’

So is the film worthy of such kickback? Perhaps partly. At least some of the audience response to Sketch seems to be the result of poor marketing.

One reviewer at Hollywood in Toto described this as a “what-were-they-thinking moment” for Angel Studios. “The marketing materials are sugar coating how unsettling it is,” Barry Wurst writes. Whereas the studio is selling the film as “a dark family fantasy,” the audience response is that “it’s much, much darker than that.” For one, Sketch contains frequent occurrences of mild profanity, a bugaboo for many Christian audiences. Furthermore, the film contains no overt faith elements. In fact, writer-director Seth Worley never “meant for this to be a faith-based film.” Compounding all this are the horror elements of the film, which include insinuations of bloody violence and demonic entities.  

As a result of pushback against the film, Angel Studios released a statement instituting a new Recommendation rating. As Jeff Harmon, Co-Founder and Chief Content Officer for Angel put it, “The MPA, while helpful, is not precise enough for our families.” According to the updated guidelines,

Think of SKETCH as landing somewhere between PG and PG-13. The movie has a mix of thrilling moments, light peril, a few sharp words, and some pretty intense (but very colorful) monster scenes. This is a movie designed to thrill, make you laugh, and pull at your heart—but it’s not made for toddlers.

The studio’s update is, at the least, an admission of a marketing mishap.

Nevertheless, some elements of parental reaction are clearly over-the-top. In his article, Mattingly cites Steve Taylor, Christian musician and producer of the film:

‘This movie asks if children can be trusted to handle death and grief or should we try to shelter them from that,’ said Taylor, reached by telephone. ‘Some people — the new term is ‘snowplow parents’ — try to clear everything out of the way for their children. That’s an issue for Christian families and lots of other people. ‘But scary things happen in life. We have to be honest with children about that.’

Christian parents do well to monitor the media intake of their children. Like it or not, some things can be a “demonic gateway” to sin and evil. However, Christian parents are notorious for pop-cultural overreaction, often seeing all forms of fictional magic, scary images, and even profanity, as explicitly evil. Taylor is correct in the need for Christian parents to not always shield our kids from the “scary” aspects of life. While the ‘snowplow parent’ seeks to “clear everything out of the way for their children,” biblical parenting means helping our children process evil and grief in the light of the Gospel. 

One Christian reviewer summarized:

There’s a moment in the film when, after seeing the shockingly dark and violent content of his troubled daughter’s sketchbook, a father encourages the girl, ‘I think life is all about balancing the good and the bad. If you don’t carry the good with you too, it will only make the bad stronger. I’m not saying get rid of the bad. I’m just saying you might want to include a little bit of the good.’ Sketch internalizes that message, balancing light and dark with an honesty that doesn’t do a disservice to either.

…Sketch allows space for some darker elements, but the emphasis is on finding light through that darkness.

The backlash to Sketch provides a unique window into contemporary Christian art and evangelical culture. On the one hand, the audience for “family friendly,” Christian content, is a devoted group. Angel Studios has, to a degree, earned that devotion. Nevertheless, this same audience can be rather unforgiving in its tolerance for PG-13 content. This makes marketing a rather tenuous affair, especially as it concerns darker thematic elements. Sadly, reactions to Sketch are a reminder of evangelicals’ Fundamentalists roots. Depicting monsters becomes perilous for the Puritan; at worst, portraying the demonic becomes a “demonic gateway.” Even if said monsters are simply stand-ins for real-world grief.

So while it’s good to see Christian studios developing darker, more “mature,” content, it’s troubling that this particular attempt was met with such disdain from so many believers. Yes, the studio is right to self-correct. Marketing matters. Nevertheless, rather than shielding our children from darkness, we Christian parents should equip them to grapple with evil and grief through the Gospel. Snowplow parenting is not biblical parenting. Because if we truly want to raise a generation of “knights,” banning “dragons” will not help.

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The Church is not immune to scandal. Christians, like everyone, are sinners. Nevertheless, many Christians suffer disappointment, even abandon their faith, when a prominent Christian leader is exposed as a liar, pervert, or thief. What can Christians do to prevent their faith from being swayed by the un-Christian conduct of trusted pastors, leaders, or friends?

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“The Church is like Noah’s ark,” said Reinhold Niebuhr. “If it weren’t for the storm outside, we couldn’t stand the stink inside.” 

Anyone who’s been a part of the Church for any amount of time, is familiar with the “stink” of religious life. People let you down, they disappoint. Some abuse their power. Others connive and deceive. The Church, like every other institution, suffers from the humans who comprise it.

Nevertheless, like Noah’s ark, the answer is not to leave the boat. Yet sadly, many do.

Statistics tell us that church attendance has declined in the United States. Likewise, spiritual deconstruction has resulted in an exodus of exvangelicals from the church. While some of these “leavers” have simply transitioned into new denominational affiliations, many have drifted into some form of DIY spiritualism, untethered to organized religion, and awash in pagan thought and practice. The reasons for this religious decline vary. Some report political differences, while others note intellectual doubts and philosophical objections. However, most surveys recognize that “spiritual trauma” or religious “abuse” play a part, often citing institutional scandal as a factor. Why identify with an institution that has so many flaws and failures?

The existence of scandal, hypocrisy, fraud, and deceit in the Church is validation of its message — humans are sinners in need of a savior.

Nevertheless, as painful and disappointing as religious scandals can be, there are very good reasons to remain a Christian. In fact, the existence of scandal, hypocrisy, fraud, and deceit in the Church is validation of its message — humans are sinners in need of a savior.

Author Frederick Buechner wrote that God chooses “…for his holy work in the world… lamebrains and misfits and nitpickers and holier-than-thous and stuffed shirts and odd ducks and egomaniacs and milquetoasts and closet sensualists.” Scripture never portrays the Church as sinlessly perfect. It is comprised of extremely flawed, broken people. In fact, it is our confession of spiritual brokenness, not spiritual perfection, that grants us admission into the Body of Christ.  

While Christians are called to live holy and blameless lives, they are never portrayed as perfect. The apostle James wrote, “We all stumble in many ways” (Jam. 3:2). John said, “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us” (I Jn. 1:8 NIV). And the apostle Paul put it bluntly, “There is none righteous, no, not one” (Rom. 3:10). 

Contrary to what some believe, religious works and good moral living is not what makes someone a Christian. The prophet Isaiah declared that “all our righteous acts are like filthy rags” (Is. 64:6). No amount of “good deeds” can cure us of our condition. The Old Testament sacrificial system, steeped in the blood of animals, could not permanently satisfy the penalty for sin. “For it is not possible that the blood of bulls and goats could take away sins,” said the writer of the Book of Hebrews (Heb. 10:4). In the fullness of time, Jesus made atonement for His people (Heb. 2:17-18). Scripture said of Christ, “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (II Cor. 5:21 NIV). The apostle Peter echoed these words saying, “For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God” (I Pet. 3:18 NIV). Because “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23), no amount of charity or good deeds can make us right before God. The Christian must look to Christ, and His atoning sacrifice, to be made “right.” 

This is why confession of sin plays such a huge part in spiritual health and growth. The Christian must live in a constant penitent state, acknowledging their sinfulness, and regularly turning to Christ for forgiveness. “If we confess our sins,” said the apostle John, “he is faithful and just to forgive our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (I Jn. 1:9). The writer of Proverbs put it this way: “Whoever conceals their sins does not prosper, but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy” (Prov. 28:13 NIV). In fact, confession of sin even extends to others. James 5:16 says, “Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.” Jesus articulated this two-way forgiveness in the Lord’s Prayer when He taught us to pray, “Forgive us our sins, as we have forgiven those who sin against us” (Matt. 6:12 NLT). Scripture is filled with commands, not just to humbly seek forgiveness from God, but to extend forgiveness to each other (Eph. 4:32; Col. 3:13; Matt. 6:14).

In this sense, the Christian faith is not dependent upon Christian perfection. Sin is the great equalizer. Both the mega-church pastor and the lowliest parishioner are sinners, in need of God’s forgiveness. No Christian celebrity or spiritual leader is above the need for forgiveness.

This is why the Bible reveals its heroes darker sides. None of the saints are untouchable. Noah got drunk (Gen. 9:20-21). King David committed adultery (II Sa. 11). Rahab was a practicing prostitute (Josh. 2:1-24). The prophet Elijah suffered depression and suicidal thoughts (I Kings 19:4-8). Jonah ran from God’s call (Jonah 1). Moses was a murderer (Ex. 2:11-15). The apostle Paul hunted Christians (Acts 22). Peter denied Christ before others (Lk. 22:54-62). Scripture does not paint a pretty picture of its heroes. 

Because of this, we must take care to cultivate realistic expectations of other Christians, especially those in positions of power or celebrity. Yes, Scripture is clear that spiritual leaders will incur greater judgement (Jam. 3:1). Indeed, revelations of public scandal may be part of God’s promise to hold spiritual leaders to account! Meanwhile, the Christian layperson must avoid the temptation to venerate celebrity figures. There is no surer way to disappointment than to cultivate unrealistic expectations for our leaders. “All have sinned” (Rom. 3:23) said the apostle. Both the eloquent evangelist and the charismatic worship leader are sinners in need of forgiveness. Of course, low expectations can be equally debilitating. Striving to be Christlike and live with integrity are not unrealistic goals. However, acknowledging people’s quirks, idiosyncrasies, human fallibility, and unrighteousness, allows us to enter into far more realistic relationships with them. Knowing that my senior pastor is a sinner, like me, tempers my expectations. 

We must take care to cultivate realistic expectations of other Christians, especially those in positions of power or celebrity.

Another point to consider here is that the validity of the Christian faith does not rest upon the integrity of its representatives. Fallen men can argue persuasively for the existence of God. Why? Because evidence for the existence of God does not depend on any one person’s moral virtue. Indeed, a holy person can be a persuasive witness for the Almighty. But that person’s defection would not render God non-existent. The existence of God, the Resurrection of Christ, and the reliability of Scripture are not dependent upon the absence of church scandal. Christ’s Resurrection stands or falls on His claims and the historical evidence. The fact that a prominent evangelist or a charismatic worship leader are revealed to be manipulative sex addicts does nothing to change evidence for the Resurrection.  

The person whose faith is shaken because some professing Christian is revealed to be a liar or a pervert demonstrates a misplaced or under-developed faith. Biblical faith rests in God and His promises, not upon His followers. As such, the Christian must learn to personally develop a healthy relationship with God. Learning to hear God’s voice and apply His commands helps one develop such an autonomous relationship. Habits of prayer and Bible study can also help one grow spiritually. Furthermore, being firmly persuaded of our beliefs, the intellectual and philosophical undergirding of the Christian religion, can be tremendously assuring during times of emotional crisis. Frankly, many of those who defect from Christianity because of scandal or disappointment were never properly grounded to begin with! The believer who questions God and His promises just because a popular pastor defects, has not properly grounded themself in God and His promises. 

Frankly, this is one of the terrible fruits of celebrity culture. Even the first-century church was not immune to this phenomena. For example, the apostle Paul scolded the Corinthian Christians for cultivating schisms around popular ministers (I Cor. 3:4-9). Likewise, rather than revering the behind-the-scenes servant leader, Western Christians tend to segregate around “personalities.” We idolize charismatic speakers, media-savvy ministers, and musical performers. Mega-church services now often resemble concerts with smoke machines and multi-media presentations. While such churches may engage spiritual seekers, they also cultivate a celebrity-centricity, elevating Style above Substance, and conditioning members to be spectators rather than participants. 

For this reason, the young Christian must learn to get their eyes off of Man. No, this doesn’t mean we should forsake Christian fellowship and not seek out good teachers and healthy churches. The Bible commands us to remain in close fellowship with other believers (Heb. 10:25). Neither does it mean discipleship and mentoring are unimportant. Being taught by someone more mature in the faith can be invaluable. However, the foundation of the Christian faith is Christ, not Christians.

As the hymnist said,

“My hope is built on nothing less, than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.

I dare not trust the sweetest frame, but wholly lean on Jesus’ name.”

If a Christian’s “hope” is “built” on something other than Christ, no matter how “sweet the frame,” then it isn’t biblical faith.

Of course, this doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be deeply disappointed and bothered by scandals. We SHOULD mourn when a prominent, influential Christian publicly confesses sin and/or is exposed. Some breeches of trust are so profound and so sinister, that spiritual discipline is necessary. Holding a fallen spiritual leader to account is not a violation of forgiveness. In fact, protecting abuse victims is a necessary part of such accountability. Being unshaken by scandal does not mean dismissing the culprits or ignoring the victims.

Nevertheless, our faith in God is not dependent upon the absolute integrity of His children. The Church does not stand or fall on the virtue of its members.

This is why, when Christ spoke of the Church, He spoke highly of it, proclaiming that even “the gates of hell will not overcome it” (Matt. 16:18). T.S. Eliot imitated the exuberance of Jesus’ statement when he said, “The True Church can never fail. For it is based upon a rock.” [mfn]T.S. Eliot, The Poems of T.S. Eliot Volume I: Collected and Uncollected Poems, Faber & Faber (2015), p. 524 [/mfn] Whereas some use the reality of scandals as evidence that the Church is compromised and failing, Jesus still described it as triumphant. In spite of the “lamebrains and misfits and nitpickers and holier-than thous…” the Church will never die. Even at its worst, “the gates of hell will not overcome it.” This is not a license for laziness and bad behavior. Rather, it is a sober reminder that the strength and vitality of the Church rests entirely in its Maker.

Scandal is a sad reality of our times. No one is immune from it. There is no spiritual leader or charismatic celebrity that is above sin and evil. For this reason, the Christian’s faith must rest in God, not Man. We must be careful to cultivate realistic expectations of other Christians, especially those in positions of power or celebrity. Conversely, this means developing a healthy relationship with God, being firmly persuaded of our beliefs, and finding assurances in God’s truth rather than the promises and performance of others. In this way, healthy Christian faith is always scandal proof.

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