Wildfires Without and Within
A Reflection on the Grammys
I recently watched the LA wildfires while sitting on the couch with my son. His small frame was curled up beside me, eyes wide as we stared at the images flashing across the screen—flames devouring hillsides, homes reduced to embers, families displaced. The devastation was staggering. My heart ached for those who had lost everything, for the children who would wake up in unfamiliar shelters, and for the elderly who had watched their lifetime of memories turn to ash.
But as I sat there, another emotion welled up alongside my compassion: anger. I’m of the political opinion that the California government, with its suffocating bureaucracy and general mismanagement, directly contributed to the scope of this disaster. And I believe that the same ideological rot that stokes policies of recklessness and incompetence also fuels the moral corruption that rages within the state’s culture.
Whether you believe the fires were a result of poor policy or unavoidable circumstances, one thing most reasonable Christians can agree on is this: California has been on fire in a moral sense for a very long time.
The Moral Inferno
Last night, I watched the Grammys for the first time ever. I wasn’t sure what I expected—glitz, glamour, maybe a few stunning performances. But as the evening wore on, my brow furrowed, and my lip instinctively curled, my reactions swinging between amazement and disgust.
Talent and decadence. Artistry and arrogance. The perfect combination of breathtaking skill and self-congratulatory absurdity. It’s a strange sensation to be both in awe and utterly embarrassed at the same time. “Boy, can he sing!”—paired with, “Wait, is she really naked?”
California’s physical fires will eventually be extinguished. The land will heal. The homes lost will be rebuilt. But what about the fire within? What about the fire that consumes consciences, that turns virtue into ash, that leaves people empty and hollow—entertaining the world while they themselves are perishing?
This moral inferno is far more destructive than any wildfire. Unlike natural disasters, this fire is kindled by human hands, fueled by ideology, and fanned into an uncontrollable blaze by institutions that claim to be enlightened. The flames are no accident; they are the inevitable consequence of a society that has rejected moral truth in favor of self-worship, that has traded dignity for spectacle, and that has set the holy on fire in the name of liberation.
Nowhere is this more evident than in the entertainment industry, which thrives on pushing boundaries—always further, never enough. The Grammy’s, for all its talent and spectacle, was a glaring display of this moral collapse. It wasn’t just the flamboyant outfits or the provocative performances; it was the overwhelming sense that nothing is sacred anymore. That art and arrogance have become inseparable. That skill and shamelessness now walk hand in hand.
Throughout history, art has been seen as a gift—an offering, an expression of beauty, a reflection of the Creator Himself. But now, it is a tool for self-indulgence, a platform for rebellion, a means of showcasing the perverted under the guise of creativity. The line between talent and depravity has been blurred, and the performers, for all their skill and artistry, seem unaware that they are not just entertaining the masses; they are participating in their own moral demise.
These are not mere entertainers. They are the fire dancers of our age—gyrating on stage, pushing the limits of decency, throwing off more and more conventional dignity, all while toying with the flames of rebellion and depravity. They test how far they can go before something collapses. They play with fire, believing themselves immune to its heat, never realizing that fire does not make distinctions.
Casualties of the Flame
We like to believe that cultural corruption is an abstract problem, something out there—in Hollywood, in politics, in big cities far from our own quiet lives. It’s easy to scoff at the excesses of celebrities or shake our heads at the latest scandal, all while assuming we are insulated from the consequences. But fire does not respect boundaries. The flames have a way of creeping in, licking at the edges of our lives, reshaping our affections, and numbing our discernment.
What begins as mere entertainment subtly molds us. A song with a catchy beat masks lyrics dripping with nihilism. A show filled with compelling characters slowly normalizes ideas that would have been unthinkable a decade ago. A glamorous award show, cloaked in artistic excellence, parades moral corruption as exemplary. And we, lulled by the spectacle, find ourselves gradually less shocked, less grieved, and a little more singed around the edges of our conscience.
The industry that pretends to be about creativity and self-expression is, in reality, a machine that devours souls. It convinces its performers that they are in control—empowered, uninhibited, defining their own identities. But in truth, they are merely puppets to the spirit of the age, their strings pulled by forces they neither acknowledge nor understand. They dance upon the stage while the fire grows hotter around them, oblivious to the destruction awaiting them and those who follow their lead.
The most devastating casualties are not the performers themselves, but those who watch, often the young and innocent, who admire and attempt to emulate them. The children who grow up idolizing their personas, the teenagers who are shaped by their messages, and the “open-minded" adults who become desensitized to their influence. We consume their music, their films, their ideologies, believing we can remain neutral, that we can enjoy the art without embracing the worldview. But culture is never neutral. It disciples us, shaping our desires and perceptions, either drawing us closer to truth or leading us further into darkness.
As St. Basil once said, “Familiarity with evil writings paves the way for evil deeds.”
And so, the fire spreads—not in an instant, not in a blaze that immediately consumes, but in a slow, steady smolder that dulls our senses until we wake up one day to find we have been living in the midst of the inferno all along. The question we must ask is not merely what the world is becoming, but who are we becoming as we live within it? Are we resisting the flames, or are we quietly feeding them?
Living as Holy Firefighters
Wildfires cannot be stopped by wishful thinking. They demand firebreaks—intentional barriers that prevent the flames from advancing further. In the same way, Christians cannot afford to passively hope that the moral inferno consuming our culture will burn itself out. We must establish fireproof barriers in our own lives, our homes, and our communities.
The call to holiness is not optional; it is a matter of spiritual survival.
Holiness is not just about avoiding evil; it is about being set apart, choosing to walk in light while the world revels in darkness. If we are to resist the moral decay, we must intentionally cultivate hearts, homes, and habits that reflect the character of Christ. This means evaluating not only what we consume, but also what we celebrate, what we tolerate, and what we allow to shape our affections.
The entertainment industry thrives on capturing our attention and shaping our desires. But we are not powerless. There are ways to resist the flames:
1. Guard Your Mind and Heart
Be discerning about what you watch, read, and listen to. Ask yourself: Is this drawing me closer to Christ or dulling my discernment?
Use the Philippians 4:8 filter: Is it true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellent, or worthy of praise?
Take breaks from entertainment altogether—fast from social media, secular music, or television and observe how it impacts your thoughts and affections.
2. Lead Your Home with Conviction
Set a high standard for what enters your home. Be the gatekeeper, not the passive observer.
If you have children, be intentional about what they are exposed to. Teach them not just what to avoid, but why—help them develop discernment so they can stand firm when the world pressures them to conform.
Create a home culture that prioritizes truth, beauty, and goodness. Fill your home with Scripture, worship, meaningful conversations, and edifying media.
3. Choose Entertainment that Honors God
Support artists, filmmakers, and musicians who uphold truth and create beauty without sacrificing virtue. There is no shortage of talented, God-honoring content creators who need our support.
Engage with media critically, not mindlessly. If you do watch secular entertainment, do so with discernment, identifying the messages being presented and filtering them through a biblical lens.
Be willing to walk away. If a show, song, or movie glorifies sin, has become an idol, or tempts you toward compromise, it’s not worth keeping in your life.
4. Be a Light in the Darkness
The answer is not to retreat from culture completely but to engage with it as ambassadors of Christ. Speak truth boldly, even when it is unpopular.
Pray for those in the entertainment industry. Many are trapped in a system that destroys them. Some have come to faith in Christ because of the boldness of Christians who refused to conform.
Live a life that is distinct from the world. The more we resemble Christ, the more we stand out in a culture obsessed with self-worship.
The fire will not stop. Scripture tells us that lawlessness will increase, and many will fall away (Matthew 24:12). But we are not called to go with the tide—we are called to stand firm, to endure, to remain faithful to the end.
Holiness is costly. It may mean giving up entertainment that everyone around you enjoys. It may mean being labeled “too serious” or “over-sheltered.” But the reward of a life set apart for God is far greater than the fleeting pleasure of worldly indulgence.
One day, the final judgment will consume all that is corrupt. The fires of human rebellion will be extinguished by the justice of God. And those who have stood firm, who have chosen Christ over compromise, will shine like stars in the kingdom of their Father (Daniel 12:3).
The world is burning. But we don’t have to burn with it.