Let there be fright

Churches hope their haunted houses scare the hell out of teens - and the heaven into them

By DAVID CASSTEVENS

STAR-TELEGRAM STAFF WRITER

Ten years ago a Colorado preacher wrote a manual about how to stage a Christian-themed haunted house. It sold for $199.

Like everything else, scaring the hell out of teens is getting more expensive.

The Hell House Outreach Kit now costs $299.

Pastor Keenan Roberts has distributed his product to 800 churches across every state and 18 countries. He estimates that as many as 3,000 ministries will sponsor similar attractions during the harvest season.

Hell House. Judgment House. Virtual Hell. Heaven's Gates & Hell's Flames.

These Halloween spook houses lead kids through a series of graphic skits that portray the consequences of sin. Roberts' New Destiny Christian Center bills its Denver-area Hell House as the most "high-flyin' ... death defyin' ... Satan-be-cryin' ... keep-ya-from fryin' ... cutting edge evangelism tool of the new millennium."

The pastor's comprehensive guide covers casting and costuming. His kit includes a CD soundtrack with tormented screams and the inhuman voice of "Lucifer."

Some Hell Houses are arguably as shocking as secular Halloween attractions, like Hangman's House of Horrors in Fort Worth or Thrillvania, a macabre theme park in Terrell.

"I went to one [Hell House] in St. Louis, but they called it something else," said Larry Kirchner, publisher of Hauntworld. "Most people didn't know what to expect. It was extreme."

Trinity Assembly of God Church in Cedar Hill, near Dallas, stages a Hell House that attracts 10,000 visitors each October.

The Church at Burleson charges $15 admission to The Living Hell: Resurrection.

These turn-or-burn events originated in the 1970s with ScareMare, an attraction sponsored by the Rev. Jerry Falwell's Liberty University in Virginia. They are intended to bring youths face to face with their mortality and encourage them to accept Jesus Christ.

The Hell House at Roberts' church in Colorado boasts a 33 percent salvation and rededication decision rate.

But there is nothing meek about the message or the method.

The preacher believes that the Bible teaches that homosexuality is sin and abortion is murder. In one of his Hell House sketches, a "demon" tour guide performs a marriage between two men. The skit fast-forwards to a hospital room where one of the partners lies dying of AIDS.

"We're not saying if you have AIDS or an abortion you're going to hell," Roberts said. "There is forgiveness."

Critics secular and Christian

Some human rights groups denounce the controversial ministry as misguided.

Even some church leaders say that salvation-by-fear evangelism is inappropriate.

"In what way is this the good news of Jesus?" asked Rev. Eileen Lindner, a Presbyterian pastor with the National Council of Churches. "They are using the banner of Christianity to advance their own ideological perspective. It misses the mark by any standard of Christian education, pastoral care and outreach."

Carol West is pastor of Fort Worth's Celebration Community Church, whose primary outreach is to the gay and lesbian community.

"Any group that demonizes, or perpetuates hatred, of others, I'm not sure they're working in the name of God," West said. "They're teaching bigotry and prejudice through fear. I like to think their intent is good, but they're doing a lot of bad things to marginalize others."

Two years ago, Los Angeles comedians lampooned the Hell House ministry.

The production, Hollywood Hell House, was not "in any way an indictment of religion, Christianity or the Bible," it said in its promotional material. "Its purpose is to demonstrate the absurdity of a literal interpretation of the Bible, specifically the belief in a literal everlasting hell."

On opening night, Roberts sat in silence as the audience laughed throughout the performance that was based upon the scripts he wrote.

Comedian Bill Maher had a starring role.

"I though he would be a better Satan," Roberts said. "Bill Maher didn't know his lines."

An elaborate undertaking

At The Church at Burleson one recent night, moments before turning on the smoke machines and filling the darkened passageways with screams and creepy music, the director of The Living Hell: Resurrection stood before his costumed cast and support staff of about 200 church volunteers.

Aaron Scarbrough closed his eyes. Following his lead, every head bowed.

Death guides cloaked in black joined hands with white-robed angels. Zombies and demons wearing fright masks stood alongside an abortion nurse and two Roman centurions. A ghoulish gravedigger clutched a shovel.

"Lord, we thank you for this opportunity to serve in your ministry," Scarbrough prayed. "God, you know the hearts of these teenagers standing outside. You know if their names are written in your book. I ask that you bring these kids tonight to your saving knowledge. ... Help us to win souls for you. Amen."

"Amen!" the troupe responded, as enthusiastic as a football team huddled just before kickoff.

Living Hell is a major outreach ministry at the 1,100-member Baptist fellowship south of Fort Worth.

"We try to present the gospel in a way that relates to the culture and is truthful," Scarbrough, 30, said.

Scarbrough, the church's production pastor, wrote the scripts for the 14-night fundraiser. He auditioned church members for the acting parts (death guides and angels must stand 6 feet or taller) and supervised the transformation of the worship center's second floor into an elaborate facsimile of the hot place without violating Burleson's fire code.

Living Hell is no small or inexpensive undertaking.

Special effects throughout the maze-like set are top quality. Security cameras are mounted in every room. Before the church began routinely searching ticket buyers with a hand-held metal detector, one mischievous youth entered several years ago with a canister of pepper spray, and the chemical infiltrated the ventilation system. The building had to be evacuated.

Because of the show's graphic nature, children 13 and under must have a parental release signed at the ticket booth.

Intensity and invitation

Hundreds of kids lined up outside the church on opening night.

They entered The Living Hell in small groups, about a dozen middle school students, clinging to one another as a faceless death guide waving oversized rubber hands welcomed them in a loud threatening voice.

"Follow me!" the specter coldly demanded.

The host began the tour, leading them, like a malevolent real estate agent, from one room to the next.

In one intense scene, an underage youth, mangled in an alcohol-related car crash, died in the hospital emergency room.

In another tableau, a distraught teen sat on her bed and videotaped an expression of love for her younger brother. Then she bolted into an adjoining bathroom. Suddenly, the group jumped -- screamed -- at the sound of gunfire. A single shot. The demon walked his subjects past where the girl lay face down, the floor and walls covered in fake blood.

At another stop, a doctor performed an abortion even as the young patient tearfully pleaded with her boyfriend, saying she had changed her mind.

Too late. The heartless guide threw back his head and laughed with theatrical glee.

"This way," the dark host intoned.

The guide and his minions hurriedly divided the youngsters into three groups and herded them into pitch-black closets. Once the doors slammed closed, suddenly the floor began to rumble, creating the sensation that the enclosures were elevators, and they were moving, the wrong way, descending into the pit of you-know-where.

After glimpsing the nether world, and its wailing torment, the group journeyed on. In one soft-lit room, they faced the son of God, speaking from the cross.

Later, they silently filed past the biblical empty tomb.

Heaven vs. hell.

"You do have a choice," an angel calmly and repeatedly assured.

After the emotional roller coaster ended, the youths entered a bright room where several adult church members smiled in greeting and offered soft drinks. The counselors began engaging the kids in one-on-one dialogue about the drama they had just witnessed.

One asked a 14-year-old, "Are you absolutely sure if you died tonight you would go to be with Jesus?"

The adolescent pondered the sobering question. She nodded, eyes wide and unblinking.

Another teen finished her Dr Pepper and walked toward a sign posted on a wall that read, "We would appreciate your comments about Living Hell."

She wrote, "I think it should be more scaryer."