Voices from the Abyss: How Media and Music Prepare Hearts for Darkness
A Global Wake-Up Call in the Age of Entertainment and End-Times Deception
There’s a strange sound rising from the earth. It’s not thunder or war drums or the cries of a dying world—at least not in the usual sense. It’s smoother. Polished. Wrapped in glitter, auto-tune, and pixels. It comes through your favorite playlist, the late-night Netflix scroll, viral TikTok sounds, trending podcasts, and billion-dollar music festivals. And while it claims to entertain, uplift, or liberate, it often does something far more subtle and dangerous: it numbs the soul, reshapes truth, and prepares hearts for something far darker than we dare admit.
We are no longer just consuming content—we are being consumed by it.
The apostle Paul once warned, “For the time will come when people will not endure sound doctrine… but will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths” (2 Timothy 4:3–4). Today, those myths are set to music. They are filmed in 4K. They go viral on TikTok. This isn’t just culture—it’s prophecy unfolding in high definition.
In 2023, millions watched Sam Smith’s Grammy performance of “Unholy,” where he appeared dressed in red leather with devil horns, surrounded by dancers in cages and drenched in satanic symbolism. The stage pulsed with flames as CBS tweeted, “We are ready to worship.” Worship what? That was the haunting question. It wasn’t subtle. The imagery was a billboard from the abyss, and yet, it was celebrated, memed, applauded. This wasn’t just about art. It was about normalizing darkness.
John Stott once warned, “What we feed our minds determines our appetite for God.” And right now, the world is feasting on moral poison—wrapped in rhythm, story, and spectacle. Songs top the charts by celebrating promiscuity, rebellion, and materialism. Artists like Lil Nas X, who famously performed a lap dance for Satan in his “Montero” video, are no longer shocking—they are setting trends. What used to be outrageous is now ordinary. The abyss has found a beat, and the world is dancing to it.
Media isn’t just reflecting our values—it’s discipling us.
Look at popular TV series. From Lucifer (where Satan is the charming hero) to Game of Thrones (where incest, betrayal, and bloodshed became entertainment), we have glamorized darkness.
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Korean dramas, Nigerian thrillers, and Western blockbusters alike are increasingly laced with occultism, spiritism, and anti-biblical messages. Even Japanese anime, a globally popular art form, often romanticizes supernatural themes, gods, and spiritual possession.
In Kenya, Nigeria, South Korea, Brazil, and the U.S., young people share memes from shows like The Witcher or Stranger Things—media rich in spiritual references, parallel worlds, and dark forces. The lines between fiction and faith are being erased.
We are no longer shocked by darkness. We are entertained by it.
Francis Chan once posed a soul-searching question: “If you could snap your fingers and make everything in your life centered around God, would you do it?” Most of us pause. Why? Because our desires have been discipled by a louder kingdom. The kingdom of screens. The kingdom of self. The kingdom of expressive individualism where, as historian Carl Trueman explains, “Feelings become truth, and self-expression becomes salvation.”
This “gospel of self” is not just being preached from pulpits—it’s broadcast in pop songs, movie scripts, and celebrity interviews. The message is the same: You are your own god. Do what makes you happy. There is no absolute truth. Live your truth. But this “truth” leads away from the Cross and toward a counterfeit kingdom.
Jeremiah 17:9 says, “The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked.” Yet every second music video, TED Talk, and film tells us to “follow your heart.” That is no accident—it’s a strategy. A strategic reprogramming of humanity’s compass.
In 2020, Kanye West released Jesus Is King, and Christians around the globe rejoiced. For a moment, mainstream music proclaimed Christ. But within months, charts were once again dominated by tracks that glorify violence, sex, drugs, and despair. The algorithm doesn’t care about your soul—it only serves what you crave. And what you crave shapes who you become.
The devil no longer needs to hide. He just needs to entertain.
C.S. Lewis understood this well in The Screwtape Letters, where a senior demon advises his apprentice to avoid dramatic temptations—instead, he recommends “the gradual road to hell.” Not loud. Not sudden. Just subtle—one compromised click, one numbed emotion, one catchy song at a time.
Children are not exempt. In fact, they are the prime targets. Shows like Sabrina, Monster High, or even certain Disney films teach children that witchcraft is fun, spirits are friendly, and truth is whatever you want it to be. Parents say, “It’s just fantasy,” forgetting that fantasy shapes reality. What a child laughs at today, they may live out tomorrow.
The battle is generational—and global.
In the Philippines, K-pop idols are worshiped like gods. In the U.K., children are taught occultic symbols in classroom “literature.” In Ghana, Afrobeat artists mix traditional rituals with modern beats. In the U.S., satanic clubs are lobbying for “religious freedom” in public schools. It’s not just a Western problem—it’s a worldwide awakening of darkness.
Jesus warned in Matthew 24 of a time so deceptive that “even the elect could be deceived.” We often think this will come through false teachers—but many won’t be in churches. They’ll be in studios, behind cameras, in editing rooms. They’ll wear designer clothes, smile on interviews, drop cryptic symbols in videos. They’ll win awards. Gain billions of views. And all the while, they’ll lead hearts away from truth.
We must understand: music and media are spiritual technologies.
The Bible is filled with examples of music being used to shape spirit and mood. David played his harp and the demonic torment in Saul ceased (1 Samuel 16). In heaven, worship surrounds the throne continuously (Revelation 4). Music has power—and when wielded for evil, it becomes a tool of deception.
So what can we do?
First, we must wake up. Truly wake up. Not in the worldly sense of “being woke,” but in the spiritual sense of being alert. Romans 13:11 reminds us, “The hour has already come for you to wake up from your slumber, because our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed.”
This means being vigilant. Turn off the autoplay. Pause the binge. Ask hard questions:
Does this content glorify God? Does it soften my stance on sin? Am I feeding my flesh or my spirit?
Second, we must feed on truth. Regularly. Loudly. Consistently. Let Scripture shape our worldview, not Spotify. Let worship fill our homes louder than TikTok sounds. Let our children grow up singing psalms, not spell-casting songs.
It’s not enough to say “don’t watch that.” We must also say, “Watch this instead.” Promote stories of redemption. Share testimonies. Sing hymns that stir the soul. Support Christian filmmakers, musicians, and writers. Create holy culture—not just critique worldly one.
Third, we must reclaim silence. Silence is where we hear God. Elijah didn’t hear the Lord in the fire or the earthquake—but in the still, small voice (1 Kings 19:12). But today’s generation has no silence. Noise is constant. Silence has become uncomfortable. And that’s dangerous.
Leonard Ravenhill said, “Entertainment is the devil’s substitute for joy.” It’s time we return to true joy. The joy of the Lord. The joy of prayer. The joy of deep worship and real communion. We cannot fight spiritual darkness with memes and retweets—we need the fire of God.
And finally, we must pray. For ourselves. For our children. For the church. For the artists and producers caught in spiritual bondage. For the influencers who are lost but leading millions. We must pray with urgency, because the time is short.
The voices from the abyss are loud. They trend. They go viral. They seduce. But they are not victorious. Their power is temporary. Their empire is built on sand. Christ is returning—and when He comes, the lights of Hollywood will dim, the stages of Coachella will collapse, and every knee will bow before the Lamb.
Until then, guard your gates. Fill your soul with light. Turn off the noise when it numbs you. And remember that even in a world dominated by darkness, one faithful voice can echo eternity.
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