Our seven-year-old wanted to go to a local VBS that some of her friends were attending. We were hesitant, but we know several people who attend the church, so we decided to let her go. She went on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. When she came home on Thursday, she had some news she wanted to tell us about a decision she had made.
It was immediately clear to us, however, that she wasn’t quite sure what that decision was. She knew it had something to do with Jesus. And she had gone into a little room to talk with somebody and pray to God. But that was really all she could articulate. In other words, she hadn’t made a personal decision; she had merely followed instructions.
Honestly, that’s bad enough; but it gets worse.
I asked my daughter—who already believed in God and Jesus—to tell me about the reasons she had made this decision.
Immediately, a distant look appeared in her eyes. I could see she didn’t want to talk anymore about this decision she was so outwardly enthusiastic about moments before. But my intuition said she needed to talk about it.
“Did it have anything to do with hell?”
Immediate, visible distress.
I tried to continue the conversation, but my daughter shut her eyes and put her hands over her ears. Literally trembling, she said, “I don’t want to talk about it! It’s too scary!”
My intuition hadn’t prepared me for the fresh trauma I saw displayed in my precious daughter’s face, eyes, and body at that moment—trauma she would have carried quietly inside for years if we hadn’t addressed it. She was shaking so much that she had to wrap herself in a blanket on that hot, June summer night.
It saddened me to think that, when each of our three older children had come home with similar news, I had simply affirmed and celebrated their decision, probably helping fill in the details of what they hadn’t fully understood. I wasn’t aware back then of the sign and symptoms of psychological trauma.
I won’t disparage this church’s intentions. That’s not my thing. It could have been most any church. I know they think they were “doing the Lord’s work.” But even with five decades of church under my belt, it felt like my seven-year-old was nothing more than two “success” numbers to them:
Attendance, +1.
Accepted Jesus, +1.
By any means necessary.
Meanwhile, it was left to us to address the very real psychological trauma they unintentionally (I trust) inflicted on her by frightening her into a “decision.”
We repeatedly assured our daughter she has absolutely nothing to fear. It required a lot of patience, several different explanations, and ultimately her childlike trust in my ability to read and study the Hebrew and Greek Scriptures for her fear to subside. Even then, she didn’t want us out of her sight that night, and one of us had to lie in bed with her until she fell asleep.
I know many Christians will dismiss this traumatic experience, thinking, Hell is supposed to be terrifying. We’re all terrified when we first learn about it. But it’s in the Bible, so I don’t see what the problem is.
I hope you are not one who will dismiss my concern.
I hope you will hear my heart.
Yes, regrettably, this has been the move for generations to motivate people to become Christians. But faced with the (totally avoidable) psychological trauma it causes, I feel compelled to call it what it is:
fear-based manipulation
inflicted on vulnerable individuals
to produce a desired response.
Holding the fear of endless physical torture over a seven-year-old child who trusts you is not something to be proud of. It’s not evangelism or proselytization. It’s coercion. If you don’t have better tools in your belt than threatening children with eternal conscious torment, then your religion is truly nothing but a sham—or worse.
Not every VBS uses fear tactics, and this is not a VBS-only issue, but most would agree that this type of thing occurs frequently in VBS, where the whole idea is to gather kids from the neighborhood and create in them a desire to follow Jesus.
I recently released a book for Christians who are concerned about loved ones who are deconstructing their faith. Something you won’t hear from most professional Christians is that this practice—fear-based manipulation of children—is one of the major reasons people deconstruct their faith and ultimately leave the church. It’s time the church recognizes the harm it causes and banish this tool from its toolbox.
The church can certainly choose to ignore the call to wake up to the ways it traumatizes children by seeking to “get them in the fold” as early as possible. But as the church continues to lose influence in culture, let’s not pretend that it’s due to persecution for its “righteous deeds.” It will be because, among other things, they have caused “these little ones to stumble” (Luke 17:2).
Learn more about my newest book, Awakening Faith: A Guide for Loving Those Who Leave the Church