There’s a story that has stayed with me.

Joe Gutierrez, a steelworker of more than forty years, described something that once captivated an entire mill. Fine silver flakes would float down from the cooling tower when steel strips rolled across certain pads. At night, under the lights, it looked almost magical — like snow drifting in August. Workers would compete for the job assignment in that section because it was considered the most beautiful place to stand.

Later they discovered the truth. The flakes were asbestos.

“Everybody breathed it,” he wrote. Now he and many others live with asbestosis: a slow, tightening grip in the lungs. And he reflected with haunting honesty: We used to fight over that job.

I can’t read that story without thinking about how many things in our culture resemble those silver flakes. Attractive. Harmless-looking. Almost enchanting.

But slowly destructive.

The occult is one of those things.

It rarely presents itself as dark and dangerous at first. It feels mystical. Intriguing. Sometimes even playful. A horoscope here. A tarot reading there. A personality quiz shaped like astrology. A show about mediums. A curiosity about “energy.” It all appears innocent enough.

And yet Scripture is clear.

Deuteronomy 18:10–12 leaves little room for ambiguity: “There shall not be found among you anyone who practices divination… or a witch… or a consulter with familiar spirits… For all that do these things are an abomination unto the Lord.”

Those are strong words. Not because God is restrictive, but because He is protective.

The word occult simply means hidden. Concealed. But hidden does not mean harmless. Hidden things often operate quietly. Subtly. Like airborne fibers no one questions until breathing becomes difficult.

I have noticed that much of our culture treats these practices as entertainment. Astrology columns sit beside weather reports. Tarot decks are sold as aesthetic décor. Witchcraft is repackaged as empowerment. Spiritual curiosity is encouraged — as long as it doesn’t point to Christ.

But Scripture warns us that engaging in these practices is not a neutral act. Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 10:20 that behind idols are spiritual forces. To participate is to open fellowship with something other than God.

When someone turns to horoscopes, mediums, or divination, it quietly says, “I need knowledge beyond what God has given.” It implies that His Word is insufficient. That His guidance is incomplete. That perhaps He is withholding something good.

And that is the oldest lie.

In the garden, the serpent’s whisper was not overtly dark. It was subtle. “Did God really say?” It suggested that God might be limiting, not loving.

But everything we need to know about our future and our spiritual lives has already been entrusted to us in Scripture. We are called to walk by faith, not by secret knowledge. To trust the One who sees the end from the beginning.

Snow danced in August — and they fought to stand in it.

That image sobers me.

Not everything beautiful is safe. Not everything mystical is holy. Not everything popular is harmless.

We are invited to something deeper than fascination. We are invited to trust.

To take “good heed unto ourselves,” as Deuteronomy says. To guard our hearts from being driven to worship what was created instead of the Creator. To stand firmly on the sufficiency of God’s Word.

There is peace in not needing hidden knowledge. There is freedom in not chasing signs. There is security in walking step by step with the Shepherd who promises to guide, protect, and care for us.

The silver flakes glittered.

But they slowly stole breath.

May we have discernment to recognize what sparkles, and the wisdom to step away before it settles in our lungs.