Christianity Today: The Dragons Within, by Haley Byrd Wilt:

In Scripture, dragons—these great beasts we humans can’t help but dream about (or have nightmares about) from time to time—are associated with evil and chaos. And in the works of the original Inklings, J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis, dragons remind us of those corners of ourselves that we’d rather keep hidden. The dragons inside us come out in our “craving for glittering things, the obsession with our own reflections, and the longing to sit atop the pile in the place of God,” Justin Ariel Bailey writes in his new book, Discipling the Diseased Imagination: Spiritual Formation and the Healing of Our Hearts (2026).

Bailey asks: How do we undragon our imaginations? How do we pursue what is good and beautiful and holy in our thought lives?

“I’m convinced that if the imagination is to be discipled, it must also be healed,” he writes in an excerpt published by Christianity Today this week [Undragoning the Imagination]. …

“The wonderful news of the gospel,” he says, “is that while we are still stumbling in the dark, God comes and finds us. He knows the sickness of our hearts and what we are doing to ourselves. Though we are turning into dragons, God moves to rehumanize us after the pattern of Jesus, the true human.”

Christianity Today: Undragoning the Imagination, by Justin Ariel Bailey (Dordt University):

I have always loved stories about dragons. Much of my fascination owes to the works of J. R. R. Tolkien, whose legends of Middle-earth tell of dragons like Ancalagon the Black, Glaurung the Golden, and Smaug the Impenetrable. In the tradition of Norse mythology, Tolkien’s dragons are insidious and bewitching, cunning and cruel, living embodiments of the lust for domination and destruction.

We are drawn to stories of dragons because they tell us something true about the world. Indeed, dragons (or something like them) also appear throughout the Bible. They fall into the category of “chaos creatures” and may be found in the depths of the sea, in the wilderness, or in the heavenly places.

Although originally a part of God’s good creation (since nothing is evil in the beginning), these creatures come to represent evil’s rebellion against God as the story continues. It is not for nothing that the book of Revelation names the devil as the “great dragon” and the “ancient serpent” who “leads the whole world astray” (Rev. 12:9). Dragons remind us that we must reckon with evil.

We are also drawn to stories of dragons because they teach us that dragons can be defeated. In Tolkien’s stories, Smaug is killed by Bard’s arrow, Glaurung is slain by Túrin’s sword, and Ancalagon is cast from the sky by Eärendil. In Scripture, the enormous red dragon is identified primarily to assure us of his defeat (v. 2). We are promised that despite the power of evil, it is not strong enough to stop God’s work in the world (v. 8).

Although that is good news, we wonder what it means and what it will take to subdue the dragonish impulses we feel inside us. The way of the dragon is manifest whenever we see our neighbors as obstacles or objects, things to devour or possess. We feel it in our pride and wrath, in our deceit and despair. We find it in the craving for glittering things, the obsession with our own reflections, and the longing to sit atop the pile in the place of God. Who will rescue us from the dragons within? …

Early in my academic journey I was encouraged by a mentor to find a foundational question to orient my vocation, and it didn’t take long for me to find it: What does it mean to disciple the imagination? I became convinced that the imagination is at the heart of discipleship: What we imagine must be transfigured and trained by the true and beautiful story found in Scripture. For the last decade I have been trying to understand how the imagination works and how theology can nurture the imagination for cultural discipleship. …

I’m convinced that if the imagination is to be discipled, it must also be healed. Healing and training are not necessarily opposed. But much depends on whether we view discipleship from the perspective of an elite athlete training for a triathlon or an accident survivor relearning to walk. Both kinds of training require discipline and self-denial, but the second kind of training is truer to the overarching story of Scripture. …

If the imagination is diseased, the humbling truth is that we cannot fix ourselves through sheer willpower. If sin is more like an addiction or an enchantment, if we are slowly turning into dragons, it will not be enough to say, “Stop it.” We must have help from outside ourselves.

Our great hope is that God is healing all creation. …

One of the most beautiful passages in the Narnia stories is when Eustace recounts meeting the great lion Aslan and getting undragoned. Eustace tries to peel his scales off by himself, but no matter how hard he tries, he finds that he is still a dragon. And so he must lie still and submit himself to Aslan’s claws. The lion peels the dragon skin from Eustace, layer by layer, then throws him into the water, signifying a sort of baptismal rebirth. Eustace is undragoned as he embraces a pain that goes “right into his heart” that also ultimately heals it.

Although the healing process is painful—in the Narnia stories and in our world—the amazing thing is that the healer makes sure that the worst of it falls on himself. Despite our failure to see, hear, and feel, the Lion who is also the Lamb (Rev. 5:5–6) shows up all the same. His great act of grace is stronger than the power of dragons, and it is the heart of our hopes to be set free from the way of the dragon. For “by his wounds we are healed” (Isa. 53:5).

Justin Ariel Bailey (Dordt University), Discipling the Diseased Imagination: Spiritual Formation and the Healing of Our Hearts (2026):

How does the imagination affect our spiritual growth and discipleship? Is it possible for our imaginations to cause harm in the world?

In his search to understand how the imagination works and how theology can nurture it for cultural discipleship, Justin Ariel Bailey realized the limitations of common discipleship models: The pursuit of spiritual growth often devolves into information transfer and behavior modification. Bailey argues that imagination is at the heart of discipleship, influencing our choices, behaviors, and beliefs about God, ourselves, and the world. But it needs both healing and training–a diseased imagination can result in harm to self and others.

Bailey examines the imagination’s role in spiritual life, from perception and attention to hope and emotion, while diagnosing its diseases, including hypocrisy, distraction, control, and self-deception. Each chapter ends with an orienting prayer, culminating in a longer prayer that captures the book’s themes.

With theological depth and pastoral wisdom, Bailey invites readers to reclaim their imaginations as a vital part of discipleship, shaping a life of deeper love and justice.

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