Horror fascinates me. I have a theory as to why: I was an extremely fearful child. I remember losing sleep after watching my dad play the zombies map on “Call of Duty: World at War.” The same thing happened with the skeletons in “Pirates of the Caribbean.” It got so bad that I was scared of the letter “Z” branded on the spine of a copy of “World War Z” in my aunt’s room.
I grew out of these fears eventually, but never lost the fascination that drew me to investigate horror in the first place. I have written disturbing stories, and if I try to draw my first inclination is to make unsettling figures. Some of my favorite internet art projects are scary, and I love when horror elements materialize in other genres like science fiction.
Only recently have I begun to seriously scrutinize this interest of mine. Friends and family have always been skeptical; I have been reminded that Christians are commanded to dwell on all that is good and beautiful, and warned that a fascination with darkness can lead to sin.
In response, I argued that horror is actually one of the most Christian genres. It is uniquely equipped to show sin for what it is—destructive and insidious. It recognizes spiritual realities, including the existence of dark powers.
I still believe horror can be a powerful medium for Christians. Parts of the Bible—Ezekiel and Revelation, for example—use shocking imagery for emphasis, so we cannot discount the genre entirely. However, I am becoming more and more convinced that believers seeking to work with horror must be cautious to avoid certain pitfalls.
I used to cite H.P. Lovecraft as one of my inspirations. He is credited with creating the cosmic horror genre, which seeks to inspire existential terror due to humanity’s insignificance in light of unfathomable supernatural powers.
For a long time, I sought to emulate Lovecraft with a Christian spin, but have recently determined that it might be impossible. His type of terror — existential dread — is not compatible with our worldview. We have assurance of our salvation, knowing our God is almighty. Any cosmic forces are subject to His will. We have nothing to fear.
Christian horror must leave room for redemption and restoration. Even if the characters are not redeemed, the audience must know there is a higher moral good that supersedes whatever evils are depicted. This can be subtle; even implied. In fact, I think it is better that way. But darkness needs an antithesis.
Christian horror must also avoid using gratuitous violence or shock. Ezekiel is disturbing and grotesque, but only to illustrate the gravity of Israel’s sin. This makes redemption so much sweeter. Slasher movies and other forms of shock horror have no place in the Christian literary canon, but violence, if used with careful intention, can be powerful; even necessary.
Above all, we must recognize that trusting in anything other than the Lord is sinful. If we write frightening stories that end in tragedy, we must be careful not to subvert or minimize this reality. Instead of fleeing from the horror genre, Christians should engage it with discernment. There is untapped potential to reach people fascinated by darkness and show them the light.