Preaching to Gen Z Requires Blood, Fire, Mercy, and Kingdom

A Field Guide to Preaching for a Generation Starving for Truth, Mercy, and Meaning

I’ve preached a lot of sermons over my 2 decades in ministry.

Youth group messages fueled by the Holy Spirit, 5-hour energy drinks, and theological naivety. Late-night campfire talks where kids wept under the stars. Sunday morning sermons at my home church where I tried to sound like someone more competent than I was.

Now, I spend my days preaching to a ragtag crew of Gen Z disciples in a School of Discipleship that feels more like a monastic outpost than a youth room.

Looking back, I wish someone had handed me a simple framework. Not a formula, but a compass. Not a 12-step preaching plan, but a few North Stars. A handful of convictions to guide my words and guard my heart as I stood before God’s people and opened the Word.

So here they are. Four things I now believe every sermon should strive to include. Four things I try—try being the operative word—to weave into every message I teach. And if you’re a young preacher, especially one who feels overwhelmed or underqualified… or like your sermon might collapse under the weight of all the things it’s trying to say, I hope these help you breathe.

I don’t write these as someone who has mastered the craft, but as someone who has bled deeply for it. A fellow steward of the mysteries of Christ. A guy who has learned (the hard way) what really matters when you're holding a mic and trying to say something true.

Foreword: Know Your Audience - Preaching to Gen Z

Photo by S. H. Gue on Unsplash

Gen Z isn’t showing up to church because they think it’s cool. They’re not hungry for the next gimmick. They’re not signing up for pastel-colored moralism or saccharine TED-Talk sermons dressed in Christianese.

They’re a strange and brilliant tribe. A generation raised in the rubble. Raised on TikTok algorithms and apocalyptic headlines, in the wake of institutional collapse and religious failure.

They’ve seen the scaffolding of power fall. They’ve seen the hypocrisy. And they’ve felt it all wash over them like a digital flood: content overload, moral relativism, a thousand conflicting voices and none of them true.

And yet—they show up. Sometimes. Tentatively. Suspiciously. With one foot out the door.

Why?

Because something inside them is haunted by eternity.

Because beneath all the irony and emoji-stained apathy, they still ache for transcendence.

But they are allergic to inauthenticity. They can smell it from a mile away. They’re not gonna stick around for a sermon that treats sin like a mild inconvenience and Jesus like a motivational mascot.

They need the real thing. The raw thing. The bleeding, beating, cosmic Jesus who came to wreck the darkness and rescue the captives. They need the story behind the story behind the story. They need the true myth that doesn’t just decorate their life but redefines it.

Here are the 4 principles I try to apply in teaching this generation.

1. Show them the big picture. (Biblical Theology)

Zoom out. Always.

Don’t let them get lost in the weeds of isolated verses and minor applications. Remind them where we are in the story: a world cracked by the Fall, stalked by demonic powers, aching for redemption. Help them see that we’re not just floating in a vacuum of moral advice or inspirational content.

We are living in the long arc between Eden and New Creation. Preach like you believe this is all going somewhere.

Because it is.

The New Heaven and Earth are not just metaphors. They’re the destination! And every sermon should be a small road sign pointing there.

Showing the big picture is not just a cute storytelling technique. It’s oxygen.

(This is why the Bible Project should be one of your best friends in ministry. Not because it’s flashy or trendy, but because it helps students trace the narrative thread. It trains them to see Scripture not as a fragmented anthology of divine dictations, but as a unified story that leads to Jesus! And if we don’t help them see that, we risk letting their discipleship collapse into either shallow moralism or disjointed proof-texting.)

If you don’t show them the cosmic stakes, they’ll assume your sermon is just another entry in the overcrowded self-help aisle. Another moralistic speech with a Jesus-branded slide deck. They’ll smile politely while scrolling their trauma feed on the inside.

You have to pull back the curtain.

You have to tell them there’s a war on. That there’s an Enemy. That the world is broken and groaning and not as it should be... and that one day it will be remade.

You have to tell them there’s more to the story than their sin. That Christ is not just trying to improve their lives—He’s trying to resurrect them. That this Kingdom is not an idea, it’s a movement. And it’s on the move.

When they see that, they lean in.

Because Gen Z is not apathetic. They’re starving for purpose. They want to fight for something real. But they’re not gonna enlist if they don’t even know there’s a battlefield.

2. Preach Christ crucified.

This should go without saying, but it’s astonishing how easy it is to forget the center. The bloody, beautiful center.

Preach Jesus—always Jesus.

Not just as a moral teacher or cosmic life coach, but as the God who couldn’t bear eternity without us. The God who chose to be torn open rather than live apart from His beloved.

They don’t need another “Jesus loves you” t-shirt slogan.

That’s bumper-sticker theology. And it’s not saving anybody.

We must preach Christ crucified—always.

Not just a feel-good Jesus, but the Jesus who bled. The Jesus who took nails. The Jesus who absorbed sin, didn’t sidestep it. Who didn’t cancel sin like a heavenly accountant with divine white-out, but entered into the fallout and carried it within His own body.

Young people don’t need sentiment. They need sacrifice.

They need to hear about a God who didn’t just wave a wand from a safe celestial distance. A God who came low. Who suffered. Who walked into the sewage and the shame to pull us out—not with pity, but with resolve.

With blood in His teeth and love in His eyes.

That’s what gives the gospel weight!

It’s not abstract. It’s not theoretical. It’s the most real thing that ever happened. And when you preach it that way—raw, weighty, scandalous—it cuts through every layer of disillusionment and cynicism.

It tells them: You are worth dying for, and someone actually did.

That’s what makes the room go still. That’s what breaks hearts and heals them all at once.

Your listeners need more than a pep talk. They need to know about the crucified Savior who entered their hells and bore their shame and still wants them.

Every sermon is an opportunity to whisper to a broken heart: He died to be with you.

Don’t waste it.

3. With one hand, fight sin. With the other, point to mercy.

Truth and Love

Here’s the tension we have to learn to live in as preachers:

With one hand, fight sin. With the other, hold out grace.

Not one or the other. Both. Always both.

Gen Z (and let’s be honest—millennials, too) have been spiritually mugged by both extremes.

On one side, legalism: cold, angry preaching that weaponizes holiness and leaves people drowning in shame.

On the other side, license: a watered-down gospel that turns grace into permission and turns Jesus into a cosmic therapist who just wants you to “live your truth.”

Neither extreme tells the truth. Neither extreme saves.

They don’t need soft lies. And they don’t need harsh truths.

They need paradox.

They need to hear that Jesus is brutally honest about sin because He is ridiculously loving in His mercy. That He doesn’t gloss over brokenness.

But He also doesn’t walk away from it. He doesn’t shame sinners.

He saves them.

He walks straight into the middle of the mess and calls people to rise.

So yes, call them out. But don’t forget to call them home.

Don’t give them shame. Give them a Savior.

We must be brave enough to name what’s wrong.

Preaching isn’t therapy. It’s not supposed to just make people feel better. It’s supposed to wake them up. Sin is real, and it's killing us.

But if you're going to swing the sword, you better also extend the hand.

Fight sin boldly, yes. But just as boldly—just as fiercely—point to the extravagant love of Jesus.

To grace that covers like sunlight. To mercy that rewrites stories.

If you preach condemnation without restoration, you’re not preaching the Gospel. You're just wounding people.

Let your sermons be both sword and salve.

4. Preach the Kingdom Like It’s Breaking In (Inaugerated Eschatology)

The Kingdom of God is At Hand

Not like it’s a far-off dream. Not like it’s a retirement plan for the soul. Not like it’s just fire insurance.

Preach the Kingdom like it’s already here, humming beneath the surface of the chaos!!! Like it’s breaking through the cracks in the sidewalk, slipping into lunchrooms and living rooms and late-night doubt spirals.

Like it’s not just coming, but coming for us.

Make it so beautiful it wrecks them.

Show them how it reorders their loves. Reshapes their desires. Reframes their pain. Show them that the Kingdom of God doesn’t float above their world, but crashes into it with mercy and fire and healing and confrontation.

Following Jesus isn’t about escaping the world.

It’s about invading it—with Heaven.

This is why it matters. This is why we can’t settle for shallow sermons and sentimental fluff. Because they’re starving. Not for another “relevant” teaching series. Not for another Christian lifestyle brand.

The Kingdom is not just a topic. It is the topic.

The big idea behind every other idea.

Make it feel like what it is: the most astonishing, radiant, transformative reality that could ever exist.

More than politics, more than platforms, more than any fleeting pleasure. Make them want it. Make them ache for it.

But don’t let them think it’s some future fantasy. Show them it’s already breaking in. Let them glimpse the now and the not-yet.

Teach them to live in the tension—eyes on the horizon, feet in the dirt, hearts on fire.

They’re starving for transcendence. For authenticity. For something real that can’t be bought or branded or boiled down into a thirty-second TikTok clip.

So for God’s sake…

Give it to them!

Closing Note to Fellow Preachers:

You don’t have to be the most eloquent voice in the room. You don’t have to preach like Spurgeon or teach like John Mark Comer or write sermons with a theological spreadsheet.

But you do have to bleed. You do have to tell the truth.

You do have to dare to believe that the Jesus is still the most compelling person in the universe.

So preach the big picture.

Preach Christ crucified.

Preach both sin and mercy.

Preach the Kingdom like it’s the greatest beauty on earth.

And remember, it’s not about being impressive.

It’s about being faithful.