The Rising Danger of Glorifying Evil

In an age where villains take center stage and stories increasingly sympathize with the depraved, we find ourselves in a cultural moment that demands discernment. From streaming platforms to blockbuster films, the narrative arc of the anti-hero has captivated audiences. But beneath the engaging plotlines and compelling performances lies a subtle yet dangerous shift: we’re being taught to root for what God calls evil.

Consider the thought experiment of giving Judas Iscariot a cinematic backstory. Imagine focusing not on his betrayal of Jesus, but on his troubled childhood, his social alienation, his misunderstood intentions. Suddenly, the man who handed over the Savior of the world for thirty pieces of silver becomes a victim of circumstance. We sympathize. We excuse. We even root for him.

Yet Scripture is unwavering. Jesus calls Judas a devil (John 6:70). His betrayal was not an accident or a mistake, but the fulfillment of prophetic judgment (Psalm 41:9; 109:8). And Jesus himself declared it would have been better for Judas had he never been born (Matthew 26:24). No degree of suffering, no backstory, no emotional trauma negates the weight of this sin.

This is the peril of modern storytelling.

Today’s media often recasts the villain not as a moral warning, but as a misunderstood human whose dark descent is somehow justified. Movies like Joker present a compelling, tragic figure. Arthur Fleck’s suffering, rejection, and mental instability elicit our pity. We are lured into empathizing with his transformation into a moral monster. But the danger lies in what happens next we no longer recoil at evil. We celebrate it.

As Isaiah 5:20 warns, “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness.” Stories, when told well, are powerful. But when they twist our perception and invert God’s moral order, they don’t just entertain they disciple.

Why do these narratives grip us so tightly? Because they tell us what we want to believe: that sin is not our fault, that we are products of our pain, that the lines between right and wrong are blurrier than the Bible suggests. But Jesus, speaking with piercing clarity, reminds us in Mark 7:20–23 that evil comes from within. “Out of the heart of man,” he says, “come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder...” Environment may influence us, but it never excuses us. Our hearts are the source of our sin.

When media glorifies characters who “liberate” themselves by giving into wrath, vengeance, or nihilism, it presents rebellion against God as freedom. But Paul’s sobering words in Romans 1 make clear such “freedom” is actually the judgment of God. Three times Paul writes that “God gave them up” a terrifying depiction of divine wrath. What the world calls self-expression, Scripture calls searing of the conscience and abandonment to destruction.

Even vengeance, which appears justified in many anti-hero tales, is a realm God reserves for Himself. Romans 12:19 commands, “Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God.” We were never meant to be the executioners of justice. When we take vengeance into our own hands whether onscreen or in our lives we steal what belongs to the Holy Judge alone.

So, why do we keep watching? Why are we drawn to these stories?

Perhaps we’ve already taken a few too many steps in their direction. As John 3:19 says, “People loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil.” Maybe we find these villains relatable not because they are misunderstood, but because they reflect parts of ourselves we’ve refused to surrender to Christ.

But there is a better story.

The gospel offers no such glamorization of sin. Instead, it tells us the truth: we are all villains in need of redemption. We have all fallen short, all sinned, all chosen darkness. Yet instead of condemning us, God sent His Son the only spotless one, the true hero to die in our place. “He committed no sin,” Peter writes, “neither was deceit found in his mouth... When he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly” (1 Peter 2:22–23).

Jesus doesn’t invite us to understand our darkness He calls us to step into His light. The more we behold Him in His word, the more we’ll see the contrast between His beauty and the world’s corruption. The more we know Him, the less appealing sin becomes.

The real tragedy is not watching a man become a villain. It’s when the people of God become so desensitized that they find his transformation thrilling rather than terrifying. The cross is not boring. The Savior is not vanilla. If we ever begin to think so, then truly, the joke is on us.

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