Are We Still Trying to Scare the “Hell” Out of Kids?
Well, Jackie Hill Perry is...
There’s something deeply unsettling about watching a child’s eyes fill with fear in church. Not the awe-inspired reverence kind of fear—but the “if I mess up, God’s gonna kill me” kind. The kind that doesn’t draw you into love but pushes you away in shame. And it begs the question: Are we still trying to scare the “hell” out of kids?
If you grew up in church, especially Black church, you might remember the fire-and-brimstone sermons. You know the ones. The preacher’s voice got louder, the organ more dramatic, and somewhere in the back, someone fell out in the Spirit as the pastor screamed, “You don’t want to go to hell, do you?!” It was terrifying. But somehow, we accepted it as “truth in love.”
Fast forward to a viral clip circulated of Jackie Hill Perry telling a group of children that they “deserve to die” because of sin. Yes, Easter. The day we celebrate resurrection, redemption, and love’s victory over death—and the message to the children was death. Literal death. “You deserve to die, and it should’ve been you on that cross.”
Because here's the thing: Jesus never manipulated children with fear.
Jesus never manipulated children with fear. He welcomed them. He protected them. He told adults to become like them—not silence their innocence with theologies they aren’t emotionally ready to digest. When children gathered around Jesus, He didn’t say, “You’re lucky I’m not God in judgment right now.” He said, “Let the little children come to me…for the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these.”
Somehow, we’ve become so obsessed with punishment, sin, and wrath that we’ve forgotten how to present grace. We think if we don’t scare kids straight, they’ll grow up crooked. Although fear may change behavior, it rarely transforms hearts. And transformation is what Jesus was always after.
And let’s be real: our kids are already navigating enough fear.
Many of them live in communities where death is not a theological concept—it’s a lived reality. Gun violence. Incarceration. Illness. Loss. They’re burying friends, watching mothers cry, and wondering if they'll make it to 18. Why would we heap spiritual fear on top of that emotional load?
Why not show them abundant life? Why not tell them God sees them, loves them, and has plans for them beyond survival? Why not introduce them to a Jesus who walks with them through trauma, not one who uses it as a lesson in punishment?
We need to be asking ourselves:
Why are we still giving kids theology shaped more by terror than tenderness?
What happens to a child’s developing identity when their first introduction to God is one who is disappointed, angry, or ready to punish them?
What would it look like to disciple children in the context of belonging rather than threats?
The Gospel is not “you are trash, but God saved you anyway.” The Gospel is “you are made in God’s image, and though sin distorts, God’s love restores.” That distinction matters.
If a child leaves your sermon thinking they’re inherently unlovable, you haven’t preached the Gospel. You’ve traumatized them with religion.
Jackie’s moment wasn’t an isolated case. It reflects a bigger trend within certain theological circles—particularly in reformed traditions—where “total depravity” is emphasized in ways that crush rather than convict. Adults barely know how to process those messages. Children? Forget about it.
And then we wonder why so many young people leave the church. They aren’t just “rebelling.” Many are recovering—from messages that made them feel more like criminals than beloved children.
Let’s be honest: some of us are still unlearning the damage done when hell was dangled over our heads like a boogeyman. We were made to feel like God was an angry parent rather than a loving Creator. We’ve been detoxing from shame-filled sermons ever since.
So, maybe it’s time to retire the strategy of scaring the “hell” out of kids. Maybe, just maybe, we should try loving heaven into them.
Let them know:
They are worthy.
They are sacred.
They are not beyond grace.
Let’s invite them to walk in the light, not because they’re afraid of the dark, but because we’ve seen something more beautiful.
Because if love doesn’t lead them, fear surely won’t keep them.
Blacklisted Saint