Type: supporting argument (off-timeline) — the conditionalist proof-text from the mouth of Christ. · Assessment: contested — the verse genuinely tells against the Platonic axiom that the soul is immortal by nature: Jesus says plainly that God is able to destroy the soul (psychē), and even the traditional reading has to redefine that destruction rather than deny it. On that narrower point — the soul's destructibility — the annihilationist has the better of the text. But the leap from “God is able to destroy” to “the final penalty is extinction” is exactly what the verse alone cannot carry: apollymi ranges from “annihilate” to “ruin / be lost” (the “lost” sheep and coin), the clause asserts God's power over the soul rather than the mode in which He exercises it, and the whole patristic reception — Tertullian expressly, then Augustine, Theodore, and Theophylact — read penal ruin, not extinction (though the conditionalist fairly answers that this reception was shaped by the very natural-immortality premise the verse unsettles). Strong for the soul's destructibility; short of clinching final extinction on its own — contested.
And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell. (Matthew 10:28)
— the parallel at Luke 12:4–5 has Jesus warn the disciples not to fear “them that kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do,” but rather “him, which after he hath killed hath power to cast into hell.”1 The conditionalist reads the Matthean form at face value: the very thing the natural-immortality view says cannot be destroyed — the soul — is exactly what Jesus says God is able to destroy, and He destroys it “in Gehenna,” along with the body. The soul, then, is not deathless by nature; and the final penalty is the destruction of the whole person, soul included, not its endless preservation in torment.
The verse is the conditionalist movement's single most-cited proof-text. Edward Fudge builds on it in The Fire That Consumes, pressing that the Greek verb behind “destroy” here (apollymi) is the same word rendered “perish” in John 3:16 (“should not perish, but have everlasting life”) — the antithesis of eternal life being not eternal life-in-misery but real loss of life.2 The contemporary “Rethinking Hell” case states it flatly: on Matthew 10:28 “such an annihilationist interpretation makes good sense. God kills the unrepentant soul just as he does the body.”3 The reading is as old as it is disputed: the earliest surviving comment on the verse, Tertullian's, is already a rebuttal of exactly this annihilationist construction — proof that some in his day were drawing it.
The object of destruction is the soul. The load-bearing datum is grammatical. Jesus contrasts what man can do — kill (apokteinō) the body only — with what God can do: destroy (apollymi) “both soul and body.” The doubled “soul and body” presses totality, and the explicit inclusion of the psychē is precisely the point a doctrine of natural immortality must blunt: if the soul could not, in principle, be destroyed, the warning would be empty. The verse at minimum unseats the Platonic axiom that the soul is deathless in itself — which is the premise on which the whole conditionalist case is built, and which the early apologists Justin, Tatian, and Theophilus had already denied on other grounds.
The verb is escalated, not merely repeated. Jesus does not say man cannot “destroy” the soul and God can; He shifts the verb — man can kill (the body), God can destroy (soul and body). Theodore of Mopsuestia, no annihilationist, noticed the escalation: “He first says ‘kill’ but next says ‘destroy,’ and from destruction there is no longer any salvation.”4 Read at face value, the escalation names a fate more final than the death man can inflict — which is what the annihilationist means by the “second death.”
The vocabulary belongs to a wider pattern. The same apollymi renders “perish” against “eternal life” in John 3:16 and stands beside the “destruction” of Matthew 7:13 and the “everlasting destruction” of 2 Thessalonians 1:9. The conditionalist reads a consistent register: the wage of sin is death, and the New Testament's threat-words mean what they say. (The lexical range of apollymi across the New Testament is a distinct question, weighed on its own; this page concerns the destructibility of the soul that Matthew 10:28 asserts.)
What holds. The soul's destructibility is the strong part, and it is strong. The plain sense of “able to destroy…the soul” is that the soul is not indestructible by nature — and the tradition itself concedes as much by the route it takes to escape the verse. It does not deny that God can destroy the soul; it redefines the destruction. Augustine's answer is that the soul “dies” not by ceasing to be but by losing its proper life, which is God: “the body is dead without the soul, and the soul is dead without God” — a soul that goes on existing while “dead.”5 That is a real reading, but notice its shape: it grants that the soul's life is contingent (it can be lost) and secures its permanence from elsewhere, not from the verse. So even the traditional exegesis of Matthew 10:28 does not rest on the soul being naturally deathless — which is the conditionalist's actual claim here.
What is overstated or imprecise. The verse establishes God's ability — “him which is able to destroy” (ton dynamenon…apolesai) — not the manner in which the penalty is finally executed. Read strictly, it warns the disciple to fear the One who holds the soul's existence in His hand, not the man who can only touch the body; it does not by itself decide between “destroy = extinguish” and “destroy = consign to ruinous, conscious loss.” And apollymi genuinely bears the softer sense: it is the word for the “lost” sheep (Matthew 10:6), the “lost” coin and prodigal son (Luke 15), the men “perishing” who are still alive — none of them annihilated, all of them ruined or astray. Jesus's hearers could hear “ruin in Gehenna” as readily as “extinction in Gehenna.” The annihilationist reply — that even “destroy” in the sense of “kill” suffices, since a killed soul is a dead soul — only relocates the dispute onto what “death of the soul” means, which is the whole question.
The reception cuts against extinction — with a caveat. The patristic comment on the verse is nearly unanimous the other way. Tertullian, the earliest witness, meets the annihilationist reading head-on: “if…any one shall violently suppose that the destruction of the soul and the flesh in hell amounts to a final annihilation of the two substances, and not to their penal treatment…let him recollect that the fire of hell is eternal…and…admit that…substances must be eternal, when their penal ‘killing’ is an eternal one.”6 Theophylact reads “in Gehenna” as marking “the perpetual nature of the punishment, for Gehenna is never ending,” and God as punishing “both the soul and the body” there — not extinguishing them.7 Two things must be said about this consensus, and honestly both ways. It is a real datum: the verse was not read as teaching extinction by those closest to its language. But Tertullian's argument itself imports the eternity of the fire from other texts and holds a Platonic doctrine of the soul's natural immortality — so the conditionalist fairly answers that the reception was shaped by the very premise Matthew 10:28 unsettles, and does not independently refute the plain reading. The reception weakens the extinction inference; it does not settle the destructibility point in the tradition's favour.
Contested. Two sub-claims ride on this verse and they fare differently. That the soul is destructible — not immortal by nature — is well-grounded: the object of “destroy” is expressly the psychē, and the tradition escapes the verse only by redefining the soul's “death” as separation from God while conceding its life is contingent, which is most of what the conditionalist wants. That the final penalty is extinction of the whole person is the weaker inference: “able to destroy” states God's power over the soul, not the mode of its end, and apollymi covers ruin as well as annihilation, so the extinction reading needs the fuller lexical and systematic case (the “second death,” 2 Thessalonians 1:9, the fire of Gehenna and the lake of fire) that this one text cannot supply, and it runs against a nearly unanimous patristic reading — itself, however, formed under the natural-immortality premise in dispute. It is fairly the conditionalist's strongest single verse and it genuinely shifts the burden on the immortality question; it is not, by itself, a proof of annihilation. Proponents who present it as clinching the whole doctrine (rather than the destructibility premise) overreach on the word “able” and on the range of “destroy.” See also the strongest texts set the other way, weighed under “tormented…for ever and ever” and the undying worm, and the traditional gloss of the destruction-vocabulary as a coherent “death without death”.
Matthew 10:28 (KJV); parallel Luke 12:4–5. The Greek shifts verbs: men can only kill (apokteinō) the body; God is able to destroy (dynamenon…apolesai, from apollymi) both soul and body. Tertullian notes that Luke's form has the Lord “after He hath killed” with “power to cast into hell” (Against Marcion IV). ↩
Edward Fudge, The Fire That Consumes, 3rd ed. (Eugene, Ore.: Cascade, 2011), 1st ed. 1982; the argument that apollymi (“destroy”) in Matthew 10:28 is the same word rendered “perish” in John 3:16 and denotes real loss of life, not ruinous survival, runs through his treatment of the destruction-texts. Fudge's framing question is reproduced with page citation in this review; an author's excerpt is at edwardfudge.com. ↩
Joseph Dear, “Introduction to Evangelical Conditionalism — Matthew 10:28”, Rethinking Hell (31 July 2025): “Such an annihilationist interpretation makes good sense. God kills the unrepentant soul just as he does the body.” ↩
Theodore of Mopsuestia, Fragment 56 (on Matthew 10:28): “He first says ‘kill’ but next says ‘destroy,’ and from destruction there is no longer any salvation.” Theodore reads “in Gehenna” as marking eternal condemnation, not extinction. ↩
Augustine of Hippo, Sermon 65.5–7: the soul “dies” not by ceasing to be but by losing its proper life, which is God — “the body is dead without the soul, and the soul is dead without God.” The classic traditional reading of “destroy the soul” as ruin, not extinction. ↩
Tertullian, On the Resurrection of the Flesh, ch. 35: the destruction of soul and body in hell is “penal treatment,” not “a final annihilation of the two substances…as if they were to be consumed, not punished” — the earliest surviving comment on the verse, and already a rebuttal of the annihilationist reading. Tertullian argues from the eternity of the fire (asserted from other texts) to the eternity of the substances punished in it. ↩
Theophylact of Ohrid, Commentary on Matthew (on 10:28): “God punishes both the soul and the body of those whom He casts into gehenna. He says ‘in gehenna,’ indicating the perpetual nature of the punishment, for gehenna is never ending.” ↩