“Our faults and fears must never be seen.”
I gave in and watched one of the trending movies, Demon Hunters, and it got me thinking.
At first, the movie didn’t really grab my attention. It took me a while to connect with its style, but once I did, I enjoyed it. If you’ve ever watched a K-drama, you’ll probably recognize some familiar vibes—cheesy moments that somehow still make you smile.
One of the Demon Hunters, a girl named Rumi, begins losing her voice. As the story unfolds, we discover that her voice is fading because of shame and because she is hiding who she truly is from her friends.
The song Golden captures this beautifully:
“I’m done hiding, and now I’m shining like I was born to be.”
What stood out to me was that Rumi seemed to be singing something she didn’t fully believe in herself. Many of us are good at writing or speaking about things that we’re not very good at living out. You might be pointing a finger at me right now—and that’s fair. I’ve been that person too.
Rumi grew up hearing a mantra from her caretaker:
“Our faults and fears must never be seen.”
As the movie progresses, we discover that this statement isn’t true. During a performance of Golden, what should have been a triumphant moment turns into a takedown. The lesson is simple: if you keep hiding, you may eventually be exposed in the places you least expect.
There is a difference between transparency and vulnerability. Transparency is sharing things that happened to us or things we have already overcome. Vulnerability is sharing what is happening right now—the things that still scare us, the struggles that are still unfinished.
The movie portrays an enemy that attacks through shame and guilt, trying to control people and take their souls. Sound familiar, my Christian friends?
When you believe lies about yourself, you lose your sense of belonging. You lose sight of love. The question becomes: are you loved because people know your victories, or are you loved because they know the real you?
One benefit of hiding is that nobody truly knows who you are. But the cost is that your voice slowly disappears.
As Rumi began opening up, she got her voice back.
I think there is wisdom in that. Sometimes we get our voice back by telling the truth about who we are. It’s hard work. Many people won’t appreciate your vulnerable moments. They may celebrate the story after you’ve fought and won, but not while you’re still in the middle of the battle.
What would happen if our culture valued vulnerability more? What would happen if you shared who you really are?
Would it hurt? Probably.
Would you get your voice back?
I believe so.
If you’re disappointed that I didn’t spend this article warning people not to watch Demon Hunters because there are demons in it and it might “open doors,” I have a simple response: if a door opens, shut it.
But don’t miss the bigger lesson. Find your voice in a world whose noise is often louder than your own thoughts.
How do you become vulnerable?
Start with yourself. Stop lying to yourself. Then find someone you trust and tell the truth.
And for those who listen to vulnerable stories, don’t shut people down. Show some grace. You might discover something about your own voice while listening to theirs.
These are just my random thoughts after watching Demon Hunters. If you’ve seen it, I’d love to hear what stood out to you and what you learned.