My Voice Without the Lies

I’m a sucker for a good, simple movie. If the plot is decent, has good cinematography/animation and the soundtrack is good then 9 times out of 10 I’m going to like it. When my niece Anna stayed over with us for a few days while she was helping with vacation bible school, she wanted to watch this new movie on Netflix called K-Pop Demon Hunters. Initially I was… less than enthusiastic to say the least, but being the good uncle I am, I watched it with her. The plot may have been a bit thin in places, but the animation was stellar and the soundtrack was actually really good! There was one point in the movie though that struck me and that’s what I wanted to talk about today.

The long and short of the movie is there are these 3 girls who fight demons with music. That’s it really, that’s most of the plot summed up right there (like I said, it’s straightforward). Part way through the movie though it’s revealed that one of the girls, Rumi, is actually half demon as shown by these markings on her body. They used to be small and easy to hide but they gradually have begun to take over. These markings are more than just changing the way Rumi’s skin looks, they change her one of her eyes, her voice, everything about her has begun to express itself in deep sadness or rage. Eventually these marks are exposed to everyone in the world, causing Rumi to break down and run to her Aunt Celine for guidance. Celine has known about the markings since Rumi’s birth and she was tasked with keeping her safe. Celine sees her niece, and she can’t handle it, giving her the worst advice, “Hide and lie. Hide your markings, lie to your friends and tell them that it was all an illusion.” Naturally Rumi gets upset with her and tells her “You don’t get it, this is what I am!” and she begins pleading with Celine to just look at her, just be with her right now. Celine can’t look at her. Rumi then asks the pivotal question “Why can’t you look at me? Why can’t you love me? All of me?” Celine has no answer for her, Rumi’s only family left can’t look at her. Fast forward to the end of the film and Rumi is face to face with the King of Demons, Gwi-Ma. He starts throwing her shame in her face again, accusing her of leaving her friends, reminding her all of her failings and all this was her fault, that she was the reason he was going to win. Rumi then does what she does best, she sings. I want to draw your attention to the key lyric in the song that she responds with:

“I broke into a million pieces, and I 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”

It’s those words grounded in truth that fuels her song, encouraging her friends to join her and cast out the demon king. That moment hit me because it mirrors something far older than a Netflix script. The lies Rumi hears are same lies the devil has told since the very beginning. In Genesis, after Adam and Eve sinned, “the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves” (Genesis 3:7). Instead of running to God, they hid in shame. The serpent’s voice told them they couldn’t be loved as they were. Hide. Cover it up. Don’t let Him see.

Rumi’s aunt repeats that same lie: “Hide and lie.” That’s what the enemy always whispers to us when our sins or wounds feel too exposed. Rumi’s plea, “Why can’t you love me? All of me?” echoes the cry of every human heart. We long to be seen and loved even in our brokenness.

The good news of the Gospel is that God’s answer is not to look away, but to look straight at us and love us in full. “But God proves His love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). The marks of sin we try to hide are exactly the places where Christ wants to heal us. He doesn’t demand perfection before He loves us; He meets us right in the middle of our shame. That’s why 1 John tells us, “If we walk in the light, as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin” (1 John 1:7). Hiding keeps us enslaved, but bringing our wounds, our scars, our sins into the light is what opens us to grace. Rumi discovers courage when she stops lying and starts singing in truth. That song isn’t just music, it’s her confession. She names her brokenness out loud, without hiding, and in doing so her wounds lose their power to control her. Her scars become strength, her voice becomes freedom.

That’s exactly what the Sacrament of Confession is meant to be for us. The devil whispers, “Hide and lie. Cover it up. God can’t look at that part of you.” But Confession is where we say with Rumi, “This is what I am.” We let the truth out of the shadows and into the light of Christ’s mercy. In that moment, God does not look away. He forgives. He heals. He turns our shame into freedom. “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just, and will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9).

Rumi’s song fueled her battle against the demon king. Our confession fuels our battle against sin and despair. The scars remain part of our story, but in Christ they become the places where grace shines through. At the end of the movie, her scars don’t go away, they remain as a part of Rumi but they no longer control her. She will still have to keep them in check, but she doesn’t have to be ashamed of herself. Her friends see her struggles now and they support her in overcoming them. We are all sinners, but we’re more than just that, we’re beloved sinners. If we get hung up on the second half of that, we lose focus on God’s grace and love. Yes, you might be broken, but you are loved in your brokenness. Confession doesn’t erase our history, it reclaims it. Like Rumi’s friends standing beside her, the Church surrounds us in that sacrament, not to condemn but to lift us up. Our scars remain, but they are no longer chains. They become reminders of the mercy that sets us free.

Don’t let the devil keep you hiding. If it’s been a while, go to Confession. Say out loud what weighs you down, and let God free you. Your scars don’t make you unworthy; they are where His grace can shine the brightest. Remember, you’re not alone when you step into the confessional. The priest, the Church, and the whole Body of Christ stand with you, praying for your freedom. Take courage, and bring your brokenness into His light this week.

Yours in Christ,

The Other AK Guy