Every October, I feel that familiar tug-of-war: I love Halloween. The colors, the storytelling, the eerie quiet of fall nights, the way the world leans toward mystery. I love the strange comfort of the macabre like reading horror novels, learning about forensics, studying what happens after death. I even dream of being a hospital chaplain one day, standing beside people at the threshold between life and eternity.
And yet, sometimes I catch myself wondering if that makes me a bad…or at least weird…Christian.
In certain circles, curiosity about death or darkness is treated like suspicion of faith. As if Christians are only supposed to like things that sparkle in daylight. But that’s not the gospel I know.
The gospel I know doesn’t shy away from the dark.
From the beginning, God has stepped into the shadows. Into wildernesses, prisons, storms, and tombs. “Even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you.” (Psalm 139:12)
The story of redemption doesn’t start in the tomb, but it certainly passes through one. Resurrection itself required a confrontation with death. Jesus didn’t avoid the shadows; He entered them fully, willingly, and brought light from within. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5)
So no, loving Halloween or reading about forensics doesn’t mean you’re “screwed up.” It might actually mean you’re tuned in to something sacred. It’s a truth most people spend their lives avoiding: death is real, but it’s not the end. “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55)
That kind of curiosity…the kind that wonders what happens when our breath stills and our souls rise…that’s not morbid. That’s spiritual hunger. That’s the same ache that drew the women to the tomb at dawn, hoping to tend to a broken body, only to find glory waiting. (Luke 24:1–6)
I think some of us are called to the edges to sit with grief, to ask hard questions, to walk into hospital rooms that smell like antiseptic and heartbreak. Some of us are built to love people in the middle of their fear of dying. And that calling often begins with a fascination we once mistook for “darkness.”
Jesus Himself met people in their deepest pain. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” (Matthew 5:4) He wept at a graveside (John 11:35) and turned death itself into a doorway.
So if you love spooky season, if you see beauty in decay, if you’re the one who doesn’t look away when things get real, don’t let anyone tell you your faith is fragile.
You might just be the kind of Christian who can walk into the dark and say, “It’s okay. I know who holds the light.”
“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” –John 8:12
Rowdy and Redeemed 