Christ as Lovecraftian horror

 

From the YouTube channel Formscapes (Nalhek Morgan´s channel). 

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Fiction writers who want to make their works seem more "mature" or "serious" very often tend to do so by attempting to make their fictional settings and narratives as bleak and nihilistic as possible. Oh you want to write a story about Fey folk and goblins? Sorry, that's for children... Unless of course you make the Fey cannibals, make the goblins into a slave caste which is a thinly veiled allegory for disabled people and make your pantheon of deities a team of blind, insane, ravenous eldritch monsters. Then maaaaybe adults will take it seriously. If you want your fantasy to seem more dark, gritty, serious and hard-hitting, then you had better create a world in which Schopenhauer was right, existence is suffering, and the light is just as evil as the darkness. Now don't get me wrong. I'm as much a fan of graphic violence and nudity in my fantasy/scifi as the next chump, but I really do think that this trend illustrates a very severe lack of imagination on the part of contemporary fiction writers, and even a deeper misunderstanding of what hope and optimism actually are. The implication here would seem to be that if there really was an unambiguous good in the world, that this would detract from the horror, tragedy and gritty seriousness of the world. But consider that the real world is more like this; what if the ultimate good is destined to prevail in the end, what if there is genuine truth in the world, what if beauty will ultimately redeem the destitution of the human condition, what if we shall all be healed because the cosmos is animated by a love which genuinely cares about our purpose and suffering... And what if THAT world is actually more tragic, more horrifying, more bittersweet, than anything the most grimdark fiction authors could possibly come up with? What if God is indeed love, and love is the most terrifying thing of all, because the demands it makes of us are unthinkable? What if the story of Christ is already lovecraftian horror if we actually take it seriously? What if a cosmos which cares is actually far more horrifying than an indifferent one? What if cosmic indifference is actually the escapist fantasy which relieves us of burdens which we fear will crush us? The white pill is harder to swallow than the black pill, because after you take the former, there are no longer any excuses, and no turning back. Perhaps if fiction writers begin to realize that, we might actually get some stories with satisfying endings this century.

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