Songs on Repeat

There’s a moment in Kpop Demon Hunters I can’t forget.

It wasn’t one of the flashiest battles or the boldest choreography.

It was when the truth about Rumi’s patterns came out—and everything broke.

The betrayal shattered the team’s trust.

The girls went their separate ways, and the strength they once carried as a unit faded.

In the silence of separation, the voices came.

You’re not good enough.

You never were.

You don’t deserve love.

You don’t belong anywhere.

It wasn’t a monster with claws or fangs that brought them down. It was isolation.

And if you’ve ever been through a spiritual battle, you know—that’s Satan’s favorite strategy. Not to destroy you with an obvious blow, but to quietly pull you away… until you’re vulnerable enough to destroy yourself from the inside out.

I know that silence.

I remember a season of major transition in my life where I couldn’t find my footing. I didn’t feel like I could be a good friend. I was too lost in my own head. So I pulled away. I didn’t reach out. I walked as if I was alone. And that kind of loneliness feeds fear. It gives doubt a microphone and shame a home.

But God never left me.

In time, my faith was redefined—and I was redeemed.

Not because I clawed my way back, but because He came looking for me, like a Shepherd who knows when one of His sheep has gone missing.

Now I recognize the patterns.

I know the voices.

And—more importantly—I know the voice of the Holy Spirit.

I’ve become a friend again. And not just any kind of friend, but a watchful one.

The kind who can look a sister in the eye and say, “I’ve been where you are, and I’m not letting you walk through this alone.”

Because there’s no healing in hiding. And no redemption without relationship.

Kpop Demon Hunters reminded me of something simple but vital:

You’re stronger in community. You’re safer in truth. And the soundtrack of your life should echo the hope you’re walking toward.

So if you’re feeling alone, if you’re caught in a pattern, if your playlist is playing lies—pause.

Reach out.

Change the track.

And walk with someone who knows the way out.

I’m here.

And I know the voice of the One who leads us home.