At the crossroads of Urbandale, Iowa, the spire of Walnut Hills United Methodist Church casts a long shadow. One might expect the usual serene ambiance of a church setting. But enter its premises, and you’re greeted not by cherubs or biblical figures, and certainly not with biblical truth, but by the iconic (or should we say infamous?) “Chucky” doll from 1980’s horror film lore. That’s right — Chucky, with that mischievous grin, beckoning the young and impressionable from the kids’ corner.

In an age where avocado toast can be deemed an existential threat to homeownership, and where people spend thousands to make their pets Instagram-famous, it might not come as a complete shock that a church would employ a homicidal doll as a beacon of welcome. But, hyperboles aside, even in a world that has seen it all, this is a noteworthy choice.

Could this church be employing a similar “Chucky strategy” in its theology? By this, we mean presenting something clearly unbiblical in a new, seemingly harmless, or even “progressive” light, aimed particularly at the young and impressionable. What else should one expect from a church with the self-proclamation of “queer-affirming”?

Just as Chucky, a symbol of horror, is oddly positioned to breach young, impressionable minds by force while appealing to the aging minds of these perverts, so might other non-traditional, non-biblical teachings be designed to capture young minds, making them receptive to ideas far removed from Scripture.

This isn’t just about a doll. It’s about forcing the perverted thoughts of the creeps that run this “church” into young minds, scarring their innocence, and killing their souls with no offer of the hope of the gospel—this church has no gospel.

It’s easy to dismiss such matters as trivial or “keeping up with the times.” But when we allow the impulses of society to shape how we think about church, we dilute the very essence of what we believe. The Apostle Paul’s writings remind us of the importance of holding fast to our convictions and ensuring they are rooted in truth, not trend.

So, is this church’s enlistment of Chucky in the kids’ corner a mere faux pas, or is it emblematic of a deeper trend — one of repackaging and representing the faith in ways that are more sinister under the playful facade? If the Apostle Paul had Twitter, perhaps his feed would be filled with facepalms and exhortations. Yet, his message would remain unchanged—to hold true to the Word and its teachings. Just as Chucky’s inclusion might raise eyebrows, so should any ideology that raises itself up against the knowledge of the one, true, Triune God of Scripture.