Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. Since probably middle school, I have been a devoted fan of the horror genre. Going back a few years, I never really understood, let alone questioned, why I am so drawn to the “art” of the macabre. I suppose it piques my interest because it was all but outlawed in the household I grew up in. Many conservative, Christian households believe that faith and horror are at odds—and mine was certainly no exception.
Over the past several days, as I try with desperation to understand the core of my psychological makeup, I have made a few observations. I have been working through a lot these last weeks as I have, once again, begun my journey of recovery from alcoholism. For those who have been in recovery, it goes without saying that the initial steps are hard to work through. It requires a strong degree of focus and self-evaluation to break the chains that have held us captive for so long. During my free time, I give myself a break by celebrating the Halloween season in my usual fashion: watching a few horror films.
A Reflection
For context, as I have mentioned elsewhere, I was raised in a conservative, Christian household. As such, horror movies were never allowed. Yet, at a young age, I became interested. It all started with the 1989 classic, Pet Sematary. Upon seeing the film, I began to dive deeper, I would watch horror films when my parents were away. I would sneak Stephen King books, hiding them under my mattress. Again, I did not know why horror fascinated me. And I didn’t really care.
Christianity and horror at extreme opposite ends of the spectrum. My mother, a devout Christian who was completely opposed to horror as most churchgoers are, did allow books by Frank Peretti. It may come as a surprise to some reading this, but Christian horror is a thing. It’s rare, but it is real. Peretti, for example, has long been regarded as the “Christian Stephen King.” And even now, I enjoy Peretti’s few, but exemplary works. Just avoid the movies based on his books.
For many people, faith and horror are polar opposites. For me, they supplement each other. Why? Because life is not always a happy fairytale. In fact, this is rarely the case. Life is not a Hallmark movie. Maybe it is for some, and I have certainly had my share of such moments. But that is exactly what such instances are—momentary. Every day and every second, travesty strikes somewhere in our imperfect world. We would be wrong to just ignore it, as if this fact is baseless. But are we to glorify the suffering so prevalent in this world? I think not. It is because of this suffering that we need to have hope. We need to have faith.
I have spent the past two weeks reflecting on my life. More particularly, the past year. My life is a horror story. It is because of past traumas that I felt the need to numb the pain—with alcohol. But eventually, as I have found, the euphoria of drunkenness wears off. And eventually, I must face the pain. Numbing this pain does not solve the problem. Ignoring the fact that suffering is real does no justice for myself or those close to me. In fact, it only makes matters worse.
Taking the first step
The first step in recovery is admission that there is a problem. It is recognizing that life is never perfect. And it is especially recognizing that there are no shortcuts around the problem. Students of the Bible should feel no shame when subjected to adversity. It is in such moments of recovery that I am reminded of the introduction to the epistle of James. Particularly, the following verses:
“Regard it all as joy, my brothers, when you face various kinds of temptations;for you know that the testing of your trust produces perseverance.” James 1:2-3, CJB.
This is no easy task. When the cravings for alcohol come after me, it is my last thought to regard such cravings as joyous. For those who have been through similar struggles, it is frightening when cravings abound. Nobody wants to suffer. Nobody wants to feel that they are powerless over forces of evil that possess the capability to destroy us. I have never been chased by a psychopath wielding a chainsaw. But it is a sort of symbolism that I can relate to. Alcohol pursues me; and when I am sober minded, my instinct is to run. It is my instinct to fight with every fiber of my being. Because I am fighting for life over death.
Horror requires faith
Having faith does not remove the presence of evil in our lives. Similarly, possessing faith does not mean that we should remain in denial when being pursued by vicious suffering. But for some reason, the church wants its members to follow such outrageous thinking. That because they believe that if they find God, darkness is afraid of them. This is simply not the case. We do ourselves and our fellow humans a great injustice when we deny that the darkness is real. And the darkness is powerful. While my favorite verse confesses that the light always overcomes the darkness, it does not end there. We are not to remain idle when the darkness pervades. We must recognize that it is real. We must recognize that it is a problem.
This is exactly why I am a horror fan. Horror recognizes the reality of the evil and darkness that we face on a day-to-day basis. And in any horror story, the protagonists do not remain in denial. They take the first step—admitting that they have a problem. And in many instances, they are powerless to the problem. So should we admit that the macabre is real. Admission does not mean worshipping. It means recognizing that such forces are real, regardless of what we believe or do.
When I watch a horror film, I am reminded of the prominent suffering in our chaotic world. I am reminded that I must admit that such suffering is real, and it will stop at nothing in its pursuit of me. And, knowing who I am and my struggles better than anyone else, I know that I am powerless over such suffering. The strength that I find to overcome the darkness is nothing that I can produce on my own. It requires me to have faith in a power not only greater than myself, but greater than the powers that hunt me.
And I cannot fight back if I deny that such powers are real. I must admit that they are after me. While I struggle to find joy in such moments of testing, I know that in the end light will prevail. I have to trust that it will. I have to find the strength apart from myself.