Into the Light | Unmasking the Accuser with Christ

There is a moment all of us dread: that inner pull—that conviction—that tells us to bring something drenched in secrecy and darkness into the light. 

That lump in your throat. The bouncing of your leg as you wait in line for confession. The hesitation before sharing a testimony in front of 30 people; 10 people; 1 person. 

The shame after falling into habitual sins you thought you were over with, that voice echoing in your head, “If they knew this about me, they would leave. They would judge me.”

We all have different fears—of rejection, humiliation—and frankly, Satan knows these fears well because he invented them. 

Catholic philosopher and writer René Girard wrote a book, I See Satan Fall Like Lightning. He writes how the devil prefers to keep things in the dark instead of bringing them into the light as Christ does. This darkness—this secrecy—is the foundation for shame to grow and hook its roots in us. 

Silence is the weapon of the enemy.

The Voice of the Accuser

Girard recognized something profoundly biblical within our fallen nature: our tendency to accuse, blame, and scapegoat is what he calls “mimetic contagion.” This describes the way our desires and judgements are borrowed from others when things fall apart—when we look for someone to blame. 

And who taught us this? Satan, the accuser himself.

The Hebrew word for Satan (śāṭān) literally means “adversary” or “accuser.” This is how Satan works. First, he whispers his lies: 

“You are different. You are unworthy.” 

Then he turns and joins the crowd of accusers: “Crucify!” He mimics other’s outrage, the crowd repeating itself, following the same pattern that led Christ to the cross.

But here’s the difference: Christ became the scapegoat willingly. He knew He would be taunted, humiliated, and put to death by those who mocked His Messianic title, “King of the Jews.” But He didn’t fight these falsities; He simply forgave them. 

Jesus exposed the lies and turned to the light.

The Isolation Game

Not only does Satan accuse, but he also isolates by telling you “no one else struggles with this” and “if you tell other people, what would they think? They will turn away from you.” These are his lies, and where remaining silent may feel like the safest option, it’s actually a trap. 

As Girard says, “Rather than warning us of the trap that awaits us, Satan makes us fall into it. He applauds the idea that prohibitions are of no use and that transgressing them contains no danger.” In Magdala, women bring their stories of struggling with sexual sin, trauma, or wounds into the light, having hidden them away because they felt alone. 

This shame breeds in silence, and silence breeds captivity. But Jesus is our Defender, and He works in the opposite way.

The Voice of the Defender

Unlike Satan, Christ does not isolate; He gathers people to Himself (1 John 1:7). 

He redeems instead of accusing. When the woman caught in adultery was brought to Jesus in front of the crowd, He knelt down with the woman, sending the crowd into bewilderment that this profound preacher would do such a thing. He addressed the woman not with wrath, but with mercy. (John 8:1-11)

When we speak of our trauma in therapy, confession, or groups such as Magdala, we are taking that first step into recovery and freedom. Even sharing with one close friend can give us the power to force these dark places into the healing Light of Christ. We disarm Satan, who only intends to deepen our wounds by keeping us quiet and isolated. 

With Magdala, we discover that healing is not about control but about surrendering everything to Jesus, even the things we don’t want exposed.

Light As a Weapon

Unveiling our wounds is terrifying, but it also brings holiness we can’t find in the dark. 

This is not exposure for the sake of shame, but exposure for the sake of healing. By naming this darkness Christ can flood it with light, breaking the silence so Satan loses his grip. 

Girard warns that Satan’s deepest temptation is the lie that we must be like God, by controlling, dominating, and never showing weakness. But healing does not come from self-mastery, it comes from communion. 

Healing happens when we share our pain with others in Christ; in the confessional; through spiritual direction; and when necessary, in therapy. 

Every time you tell your story in a safe place, you step apart from the crowd that cries “Crucify!” You step into a space where Christ meets you with compassion, not accusation. 

Shame cannot survive when it is identified in the light of Divine Mercy.

Desire and Blame

At the root of sexual addiction and trauma lies “mimetic desire”: the longing not just for pleasure, but to be seen and known. 

When wounded, we reach for placeholders: pornography, premarital sex, fantasy, etc. We chase what others chase, mimicking other behaviors—behaviors praised by the world but disordered within the heart. When this desire is not fulfilled in these substitutes—and they never are—someone must be blamed. 

Often, we blame ourselves. We become our own scapegoat.

“Why did I do that? Why did I watch that? I know better.” 

We carry these sins as part of our identity. But Girard would answer this temptation by pointing to the cross, where Jesus became the ultimate scapegoat for everyone, all at once—to expose the system that traps us in thinking we are nothing but the culmination of our sins. 

The cross destroys Satan’s lies and reveals the truth: you are not alone, and you are not too far gone. 

A New Story

Girard teaches us to read scripture with new eyes. The One crucified is not the guilty one. The one who is shamed is not the one condemned. In Christ, God turns the wounds of man into His greatest redemption. And if He did this on the cross, He can do it in our lives too. 

God does some of His greatest work when our hearts are broken.

There is healing from addiction.

There is healing from trauma.

There is healing in the light.

Step out from the dark, allow yourself to be seen.

You are no longer the scapegoat. You are the one loved by the Beloved.