Jesus and the Horror Genre

I’ve always loved the horror genre. As a young kid, I owned these vampire comics that were admittedly too old for me that I would flip through pretty regularly. They would eventually give me nightmares, but despite the fear that they conjured I was naturally drawn to them. As I got older, my tastes adapted bit by bit. I collected and read as many Goosebumps books that I could get my hands on, I watched Are You Afraid of the Dark on Nickelodeon, and I saw Night of the Living Dead, which really ushered me into more adult films and books about monsters and the fear that typically sits quiet and unacknowledged among adults. However, growing up in the church there was always this tension between my Christian faith and my love for scary stories. I occasionally spent my October 31st’s attending “Harvest Festival” at friends’ churches, and my fascination was largely discouraged by my parents. Though I didn’t grow up in a fundamentalist home, there was a palpable sense that monsters, goblins, and demons didn’t really have a place in a Christian home. For much of my life, I accepted that my interest in the horror genre and my religious devotion had to remain separate. I thought that there was no connection between these two. It wasn’t until much later in life that I began to have a more complex understanding of fear, monsters, and the scary stories that are part of every culture.

Unsurprisingly, there is a lot of garbage in the horror genre that I don’t think is good. I’m not looking to defend everything within it, nor do I think that absolutely everybody should have a strong appreciation for it. Like in all things, discernment is necessary and we have to account for personal taste. I also think that there’s a lot of really bad worship music and other Christian-marketed media out there that is not worth consuming and can have detrimental impact on our lives. However, the horror genre gets a particularly harsh response from some segments of the church. Last week, I was speaking with a good friend whose son had brought a copy of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein to service. She was concerned about the appropriateness of it, and I mentioned that I thought that church might be the best place to bring the novel. I intended it half-joking, but I also meant what I said: Frankenstein is a story of a man who plays God, animates life, and completely neglects the responsibility that comes from his actions. The story presents readers with a gruesome tale of unchecked ambition and shows us what happens when a person is unloved by his creator. The church might actually be the place where this story is best understood.

This is where I feel most confident about the argument for the genre’s importance to faith, and yet I think it’s the same place where some Christians start to get a bit nervous. By providing space for dark thoughts to permeate our consciences, doesn’t that also glorify the behavior and characters depicted? Aren’t these stories, especially the ones where the terror wins, at conflict with the Christian narrative that Jesus has beaten evil and secured our salvation? I believe that these statements are said by well-meaning Christians but are fundamentally flawed. It shouldn’t be a challenge for any of us to name evil, whether it’s addiction, abuse, or disease, and to come up with a moment when sin overcomes people. Evil is embedded into existence, and sometimes it wins, at least momentarily. By pretending otherwise we dismiss something that is so obviously present in our world.

One of my favorite monsters is zombies. The threat is never just outside the house or wherever the protagonists are hiding. Within the narrative, the danger soon arrives from inside. The story arch typically goes something like this: people are raised from the dead with only the instinct to devour flesh; strangers get trapped together, forcing cooperation between various characters; the tension between the survivors rises as they argue about how to respond to the threat; somebody gets bitten and turns into a zombie; and there’s a conclusion which either ends in redemption or ruin. This plot reminds us that our perceived external threats are real, but it’s more complicated than that. Once we trap ourselves inside, barricading the walls, we begin to realize that other dangers are present with us. It’s even possible that the evil that we most dread is ourselves–what will we do to ensure our own security? This is what stories about zombies actually help us to realize. Not only can we be turned into brain-dead monsters, but we can also become evil in our attempt to eradicate the threat. We build walls of protection around us and ignore the commandment to love our neighbors. The threat can be so significant that it distorts our humanity even while trying to fight it.

Demons are real. They take the shape of hopelessness, violence, and injustice, the exact opposite traits of the fruit of the spirit. Enjoying a good horror story is not the same thing as glamorizing or celebrating evil. There are profound moments of strength and courage in these tales. Sometimes, the protagonists lose. That happens sometimes in life as well. The promise of Jesus isn’t some sort of triumphalism in the present. Instead, it’s the guarantee that evil will eventually be completely overcome through somebody who allowed the darkness to overtake him for a time. Meanwhile, there continue to be true horrors in this life that we struggle to understand: the death of a loved one, an abusive relationship, or the disastrous repercussions of one’s pride. We must wrestle with the consequences of sin before we arrive at redemption, and the horror genre is a good place to start.