Want to start a fight? 🤪
I’m feeling a bit feisty—though admittedly a little apprehensive about this one. I’m not standing with a crowd of besties behind me, shouting into an echo chamber. Instead, I’m feeling a bit alone. But I think it’s a fight worth having, so join me if you will.
There’s a movie sweeping through third-grade classrooms in Charlotte, NC: K-Pop Demon Hunters. Have you heard of it? If you have kids ages 6–12, you probably haven’t stopped “hearing about it” since it released on Netflix a few months ago. It’s calming down a bit, I think, but for a while – it was everywhere. At Halloween, half the neighborhood seemed to be dressed as the characters. My daughter’s classmates at her Christian school wouldn’t stop singing the songs, friends at church praised it… Everywhere, truly. And here I am—the most horrible mother in the world—because I won’t let her watch it.
Why? Because I read another blog post? Listened to an incendiary podcast? Took issue with the word demon in the title?
Nope. It’s because I watched it myself. All the way through to the credits. And while I enjoyed the vast majority, the ending broke my heart. Here’s why:
It is a beautiful movie. The artwork is captivating, the music is upbeat and dance-worthy, and the characters are a novel blend of anime and realism. The humor is comic book–style, with laugh-out-loud moments that balance the emotional ones.
But … even Satan himself is described as an “angel of light”. So judging a movie by beauty standards, especially this one, isn’t enough. Especially when it seems to hide an insidious message underneath.
The basic plot:
A band of young girls is trying to save the world from a demon invasion. To grow strong enough to close the portal between Earth and hell, they need their fans “worshipping” them. Problem one: the King of Hell sends beautiful boy-demons to steal their fans and weaken them. (Take note—unlike the other bumbling demons, these ones are inexplicably attractive.)
Problem two—and by far the most troubling: one of the band members, Rumi, is part demon. She hides her demon markings—meant to symbolize her shame—from friends and fans, but the markings grow, overtaking her voice and her confidence. The markings are inherited from her father, who was a demon himself. They’re not a result of her own failings, but they do grow the more she tries to hide them.
The solution?
Rumi has to accept her shame. She must stop hiding her “true self” and embrace every part of it—the good and the bad. Only then can she step into her full power, banish the demons, and become a beautiful singer again.
Roll credits.
If this isn’t ringing any alarm bells already for you, let me introduce you to Carl Jung, the Swiss psychologist and psychoanalyst. Among his well-known ideas—like introversion and extroversion—he also developed the concept of shadow work. Google’s AI summary puts it succinctly:
Carl Jung’s shadow work is the process of confronting and integrating the repressed, darker aspects of the psyche to achieve wholeness and authenticity. It involves acknowledging these hidden parts—anger, jealousy, socially unacceptable traits—through self-reflection and other exercises. By bringing these “shadow” elements into conscious awareness, people can stop projecting them onto others and use their energy constructively.
If you want the TL;DR of this article, simply ask your AI of choice:
“How do Carl Jung’s views on human nature differ from that of biblical Christianity?”
But if you’re still here for the fight, let me summarize:
According to Jung (and, it seems, the writers of K-Pop Demon Hunters), you don’t need a sacrifice for or deliverance from your sins. They aren’t even “sin”—just parts of yourself you need to accept. If you simply release your shame and fully embrace all aspects of yourself—the good, the bad, and the ugly—you’ll be fine.
In other words, salvation is in you. You just have to reach out and take it.
Take one little bite, and behold—you’ll be like God.
It’s for this reason, I think a Christian parent should pause.
Because we must be honest: “I do it myself!” is something we learn early, and we mean it. The message of salvation is a stumbling block precisely because it requires admitting we can’t do it ourselves. That offends us. We are “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” people. How dare someone imply we can’t fix ourselves?
“We are all like sheep gone astray, turned every one to his own way.” —Isaiah 53:6
In a pivotal scene, Rumi screams at her mother-figure: “Why couldn’t you just love me? All of me?” The moment is meant as catharsis for anyone who has felt they needed to earn a parent’s love. And while I sympathize—and even resonate—with the desire to be loved unconditionally, here’s the truth:
I already have been. By God.
He sent His Son to die for my sins.
He didn’t “radically accept” me—He died to change me.
To abolish shame and make me clean, new, whole.
So then, I find I take issue with any movie or psychology that tries to convince us the cross was unnecessary. That shame and guilt are simply our own hang-ups, and we can “get over it” with enough self-acceptance. That happiness is just around the corner if we try harder. This kind of theology sends people chasing an ever-elusive peace—all the way to hell.
Because peace—real, lasting peace—is a gift. From God. Through His Son. It is precious, real, and absolutely necessary.
So that’s my fight. You may disagree, or think I’m overreacting to a kids’ movie. But I worry that our willingness to overlook these subtle messages that our kids are absorbing (at staggering rates, nonetheless) is part of why we’re losing a culture war we barely realize we’re in. Jesus said it’s better to have a millstone tied around your neck than to lead one of these little ones astray (Matthew 18:6). That’s pretty strong language… and enough to make me willing to be an unpopular mom for a little bit longer. It’s not something I’ve always paid attention to in the past, but I’ll give this movie credit where it’s due- I’ll be paying much closer attention now.
So let’s hold each other accountable. Let’s fight when we need to. Let’s pay attention to what we consume—and be ever grateful for the cross.
With love,
Kelsey
Miracles Enough 