Every so often a movie arrives that stirs up concern among Christians before anyone has even seen it. The recent conversations around K-Pop Demon Hunters are a perfect example. Based solely on the title, many have assumed the film is anti-faith or spiritually dangerous. I understand the instinct behind those reactions. We care deeply about guarding our hearts. We want to be wise. We want to protect our kids. Scripture reminds us to be alert, to test everything, and to hold on to what is good.

But as people of faith, caution should never eclipse curiosity, and discernment should never replace compassion. At its best, Christian discernment begins with listening, not fear. It begins with a willingness to look at something fully before determining what is in it.

Which brings me back to the movie.

For those who have seen it, K-Pop Demon Hunters is not a celebration of evil. It is a celebration of courage, friendship, sacrifice, and the belief that light is stronger than darkness. In other words, it trades in themes that run straight through the Christian story. The main characters confront forces that threaten their community. They use the gifts they have been given for the good of others. They work together rather than retreating into isolation. They refuse to let fear drive their decisions. If those themes sound familiar, it is because we hear echoes of them in Scripture.

Paul writes in Romans 12 that we should “not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” Jesus tells his followers in Matthew 5 that they are “the light of the world,” called to shine in dark places. The entire arc of the gospel is built on the conviction that darkness never gets the final word.

The young heroes in this movie live out these truths in their own imaginative way. They fight for something bigger than themselves. They choose mercy and unity over division and fear. They show resilience in the face of overwhelming odds. These are values that our world desperately needs right now, and I am grateful our kids are absorbing stories that teach courage wrapped in compassion rather than bravado wrapped in fear. One of the songs in the film names this so clearly. The characters sing about brokenness, truth, and the courage to step into the light:

“We broke into a million pieces, and we can’t go back
But now I’m seeing all the beauty in the broken glass
The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony
My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like.

The lyrics go on to challenge the instinct to hide our true selves, offering instead a vision of healing that comes through honesty and community:

“Why did we cover up the colors stuck inside our head?
Get up and let the jagged edges meet the light instead…
Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like.”

This is not a celebration of darkness. It is a confession that wholeness comes when truth, vulnerability, and grace meet. That resonates deeply with Christian faith. It sounds a lot like what Scripture will invite us to in our quickly approaching Advent season when it reminds us that “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

There is also something beautiful about how the film treats community. The characters cannot win alone. They need each other. That truth resonates with the body of Christ. We are created for life together. We need the gifts, strengths, and perspectives of others. In a world that often rewards individual success, these young characters offer a counter-story. They show us what it looks like to stand together when the world feels heavy.

And maybe that is part of why this story matters more than the controversy around it. These themes of courage, honesty, and shared light are shaping a rising generation that will inherit both the church and the world we are forming now. I see it in my own home. When my six-year-old daughter hops into the car and excitedly asks for “Golden” or “What It Sounds Like” on the way to school, I am happy to turn it up. Not simply because the songs are fun, but because they tell her she is brave, that her voice matters, and that she can face hard things without fear. They teach her to step toward the light rather than hide from it. If these are the truths shaping her heart as she grows, I am grateful.

So perhaps the lesson in all of this is simple. Rather than assuming something is harmful because of a title or a rumor, we can take a breath, look deeper, and listen well. Fear makes us reactive. Love helps us see clearly. First Samuel reminds us that people look at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart. That feels like a good reminder for us as we engage the stories around us. Some will be wise. Some will be foolish. But if we listen before we judge, we may discover that truth shows up in surprising places, inviting us once again to overcome evil with good.