Appropriately preaching, teaching, and defending God's wrath

I am by inclination, believe it or not, much more enthusiastic about preaching God's love, mercy, and grace than I am about preaching hell-fire, brimstone, and wrath. I've seen churches and preachers who have overemphasized God's wrath and it's not only ugly it's a perversion of God and of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Today, however, I feel like the trend is not overemphasizing God's wrath but to completely ignore it. My inner being rejoices because I am so much more comfortable with this "tickle my ears" (pseudo-)Christian message, but, unfortunately for my "inner being", I know that my desire to preach and teach this truncated gospel is inspired by selfishness and out of a desire to please people and not from a love of God or, even, out of a love for people. The gospel without wrath is incomplete. The cross is pointless (even twisted) and the Scripture and gospel become simply inspirational messages but give us nothing of eternal value.

That is not to say that we don't need to be cautious when we preach God's wrath. I've heard preaching before that unintentionally made God look like a capricious three year old with occasional temper tantrums. We can't preach God's wrath without helping people understand why God's wrath is appropriate. Telling people that "God is angry at sin" is good, but needs meat. We need to help people see why God is angry at sin. I think people are willing to accept the assertion that they do wrong things, but what's the big deal? Why would God get so angry at sin? Why hell? Why the purging of the Canaanites and the subsequent punishment of Israel for not wiping them out when they are told to? Why doesn't God just forgive us?

It seems like those of us who remain committed to preaching a gospel which includes God's wrath, do a good job of telling people that God hates sin but do a very poor job of helping people understand why. If people don't understand how bad their sin is and how much they need forgiveness, then they will miss out on the depth and power and wonder of God's love. Believers who know that God is angry at sin but don't have a full understanding as to what is so bad about sin, may see God as harsh and unjust (even though they wouldn't verbalize this underlying doubt since that would make it look as though they are questioning God, and we can't have that!).

If any of you still remember my Apology of Hell novel thing from about a year ago, that's kind of what I'm trying to accomplish, defending the need and appropriateness of God's wrath in response to sin. I've recently begun to revive this stuff and will have another chapter finished pretty soon. But I would like your feedback before I share some of my thoughts in both fictional and nonfictional formats.

How do we help people understand the appropriateness of God's wrath towards sin?

P.S. I'm still getting to the baptist distinctive series, but those take work in the form of research! SO you have to wait until I get the time!

Apology of Hell Chapter 2

Introductory Comments:

For some reason I always have to make some introductory comments. Don't ask me why, I can't seem to help it!

A while ago, I posted a chapter of a sort of novel I am trying to write as something of an apology of hell. If you haven't read the first chapter or you don't remember it, you can read it here. You could probably follow the second chapter without reading it but it'll probably help somewhat.

As before, I am eager for your comments, especially those of you who have some writing experience or expertise (Crista... Heather if you read this - I know you have a couple times at least, Sabrina... I know you try your hand at creative writing from time to time). As with any fiction, the story and pictures should not be taken for a one for one representation of how I think Hell will be like. But I am trying to not only picture something of what hell might include, but help to show why hell, the punishment of the unsaved, is just. I recognize that this question is bigger than this writing attempt, but maybe I can help people realize why 'good people' could go to hell.

The writing still needs editing and improving, especially the beginning paragraphs which seem horrid to me. Again, I welcome your criticisms and/or helpful comments. Feel free to leave them as comments, or if you'd rather email them to me that's fine too: mcrichey@liberty.edu

Chapter 2

Despite my relief, done with the first day, any feelings of relief I had were overwhelmed by my fear and apprehension for what was still to come. I remembered that my guide had accused me of murder. If the punishment for adultery had been this horrible… I didn’t want to think about it, but couldn’t help being overcome with terror. My whole body shook and trembled so violently that despite my attempts to stand up, or even sit up, were useless. All I could do was lay helpless on the floor, shivering and weeping.

“You will now face your second charge.” The creature’s eyes caught mine as he entered or appeared into the room. His gaze was magnetic and powerful. It seemed that either he or some unknown power had control over my eyes and would not let them rest upon the floor as I sought to avert them in vain.

“Gluttony. Oh how much your countrymen will suffer for this crime! How peaceful you were in your greed! You pretended to be good; you thought you were beautiful; but you did not know that you were hideously ugly in your appearance, bloated and disgusting! Your brothers and sisters had nothing and you had so much! Yet you fed your dogs better! But it will be better for the starving brother in the end!”

His words, as they so often did, terrified me into silence. I continued in my struggle to avert my eyes. His eyes did more than frighten me. They condemned me. They told me that not only did I deserve my punishment, but that I really had no right to exist. I had felt guilt in my previous life but I could always choose to ignore it, to hide it from my immediate consciousness. When he looked at me, my consciousness was flooded with guilt impossible to suppress. I had thought I could defend myself, but I was beginning to realize that I was indefensible.

“Your punishment then, glutton.”

As before, the small room disappeared and I found myself in a rapid succession of scenes from my life. They seemed rather inconsequential and they passed by swiftly. The first scene was from my childhood. I was in a department store with my mother demanding that she buy me something, what it was I cannot remember, that I wanted. I refused to accept her negative answer, but threatened and began to make a scene. To avoid embarrassing herself in front of the general public, she caved in and I became the proud owner of whatever it was, which I somehow knew would almost never be used. In the next scene I was with my college buddies at a restaurant. I merely ordered an expensive steak and the scene quickly faded. Other scenes found me buying a new car, putting a down payment on a house, buying a new television, or on the phone with the cable company. Other scenes were quick glimpses of board meetings at work and even one at church. Yet another strange scene found me buying my son a new game system for Christmas. There was a brief moment from the Hawaiian vacation my wife and I took for our fiftieth wedding anniversary. These scenes closed with me as an old man pulling into the driveway of my comfortable condo in my newly purchased Jaguar, a mere six months before my death.

During these scenes, I had seen everything in first person, from my own eyes as I had seen them when they had actually occurred. But after the final scene, I (or my view) was slowly lifted out of my beloved Jaguar. I ascended rapidly into and then above the clouds until I could see the earth’s continents. The earth rotated until I was no longer the North American continent, in which I had lived all of my life, and I began to descend again at an ever-increasing rate towards a continent that had been of little concern to me in my lifetime, Africa.

The scenes that began to flash before my eyes were horrifying. I saw images of starving children that I had seen on television, but this time I could not change the channel and I could not look away. I watched in horror as they withered away, bloated, died, and were consumed by vultures and maggots. I saw people from my country who were doing what they could to help, but were so short on food that they could not feed them all. I visited the homes of women and children dying of Aids. I watched children watch their parents die, and I saw mothers and fathers forced to bury their children. I saw even more horrifying images of men slaughtering women and children with machetes. I saw very young boys forced to don military gear and very young girls raped and discarded as garbage. In the background of each image, I could see people in my country who were doing all that they could to help. Some gave money to charity; some gave money to their churches that sent missionaries and aid in the form of medicine, food, and education. A few even dedicated their lives to ending the suffering, disease, and violence, leaving their countries of origin and the comforts therein to do what they could to help. I did not look for myself in these pictures. I had no doubts concerning my absent.

After these images cycled through once, they repeated themselves but with one change. I saw myself in every scene. In each image, I sat at a table eating a great feast. As the scenes progressed, I grew larger and larger until I was quite obese. But I never once paid any attention to anything going on around me. There was so much more food there than I ever could have eaten but I never shared any of it. Oblivious to the starvation around me, I continued to gorge myself on my feast. When the cycle finished a second time, I saw myself sitting at my table surrounded by a great crowd of starving people begging me for a scrap of food. I ignored their pleas and continued to shovel more and more food into my mouth. As I ate, I not only became more obese but I grew tremendously. Soon I became a massive giant, thirty feet high. When I had finished growing, I lifted my table in both hands and dumped the remainder of the feast down my throat and set the table back down, empty, and walked away having never looked at the starving rabble that lay dying at my feet.

The grotesque became the pathetic. I found myself in the room once again. In the middle of my room there was a great table full of every food imaginable. Around the table were seated all the people I had seen starving in the earlier scenes. I’m not sure how I knew who they were because their appearance had been radically transformed. They were of a healthy weight and were dressed magnificently. Two were obese, one woman whom I had seen starve to death was excessively so, the rest were of varying sizes and shapes but all looked healthy and comfortable. The children were children and misbehaved like any western child does as the table to the consternation of their scolding mothers. The men I had seen butchering innocent people in earlier scenes laughed and spoke comfortably with their former victims, who, unafraid in their company, laughed, conversed and sometimes even flirted with them like they were the best of friends. Sometimes there would be minor arguments, sometimes there would be gossip about a person or persons not present, sometimes there were snide and rude comments, but on the whole it was a quite civil and enjoyable banquet.

But as for me, I was no longer the grotesque gargantuan giant who devoured everything in sight, but starving, skinny, and shabbily dressed in rags. I was unable to stand up, my legs were worthless – too scrawny to support my weight – and I could think only of finding something, anything, to eat. My body was ripe with sores and wounds of every kind and infested with insects and infections. I was able to catch and eat a few insects and once found a rather large grub, but the only real source of food I could see was the table but, try as I might, I was powerless to reach it.

But those at the table ignored me. They ate and laughed but they didn’t look my way and they didn’t throw any food my direction. Midway through the meal, a television, which I had not noticed until now, was turned on and a newscast came on discussing the horrendous conditions in the United States, mass disease and starvation, civil wars, and natural disasters. One of the women at the table, who I had seen stave to death earlier, appeared disgusted and scolded the man who had apparently turned it on,

“Turn that off, can’t you see I'm trying to eat?”

“Sorry. I feel sorry for those people though. The famine has been pretty bad recently, even worse than usual.”

“They have no one to blame but themselves. If their governments weren’t so corrupt and if they would actually listen to people who want to help them they wouldn’t be in such a mess. They are killing themselves. We’re not to blame.”

“I know. Still I feel bad for them.”

“So do I. But what can you do? Their governments are so corrupt that you can’t send them any food or money. Until you replace their governments they’ll always be that way.”

“Yeah, I know. And we all remember what happened when we tried to help them in New York. They killed our troops who were trying to help them. Still, I wish we could do something. Oh well.” After a short pause, he turned towards one of the other men, “Did you see the game last night? What an amazing comeback!”

And the conversation went back to more comfortable subjects. There was one small exception to the apathy. A small boy got up and threw me a dinner roll, towards the end of the meal. As I devoured it greedily, I was made to remember a time when I was a young boy myself and had given five dollars to help a missionary minister to people. I had felt sorry for them and gave some of the money I had received for my birthday. The roll was not much, but it relieved my hunger slightly for a few short minutes. I received nothing else from the party for the remainder of the meal.

Towards the end their supper, some of the children attempted asked for their dessert before they finished their meals. Their mothers scolded them,

“Don’t you know that there are starving children in Europe who would give everything they had for your carrots? Clean your plate or you’ll go to bed without your dessert.”

They reluctantly ate their carrots as their mother told them to. There was still a good deal of food left over and I hoped that, perhaps, some of it would be thrown my way. But instead, their plates were placed upon the ground and their dogs came in and licked the plates clean. I was ignored. I began yelling and screaming, trying to get their attention, but no one even looked at me. They arose from the table and they and the table slowly faded from view. As for me, the process of starvation continued. I continued to wither rapidly. My throat was beyond parched, my lips began to crack and bleed, and I was no longer to sit up by the support of my pencil thin arms, as I had throughout the scene. Now helpless, I could do nothing as vultures and rats began to gather around me. As a large vulture swooped down to pick at what remained of my pathetic carcass, I tried to fend it off but my arms were quite useless. As he began to tear at me, the scene slowly faded and I found myself back in the empty room with Immer-Messe.

Hell-pful Answers

Do you like the pun in my title? I think its pretty corny. I don't really like it, but Nate and Austin will. They are the epitomes of corniness. Dorks!

I would like to be like Dr. Willsey and ask answerless questions, but I promised answers, or attempts at answers, and so I must deliver.

1) Is Hellfire literal or a metaphor?

I tend to think that hellfire is a metaphor. But the metaphor does mean something and I think that it must include the idea of physical torment. What does this torment include? Why can't it be much like the physical torment we experience on earth, just without the grace of God? Jesus wipes away all of our tears and there will be no more pain or death etc.... Hell retains these results of the curse but without any evidence of God's spurned grace. Of course this is speculation but is it reasonable speculation? Can we inform our understanding of hell with our understanding of heaven and vice-versa? I think ultimately we don't really know. I do believe that hell will be a place much worse than this earth. God's grace here sends rain on the just and the unjust. Hell will have no remaining evidence of God's love or grace.

2) If those entering hell are judged by their works (seen clearly in Rev. 20 and elsewhere) can we assume that there are different levels of hell?

I think there are clearly different levels of hell. Judgment by one's works has no meaning if all receive the same punishment. Language like 'it will be worse for you than tyre and sidon' also imply this. How extreme are the differences? My guess is that the differences are extreme, but I have little data to draw from. What will all the factors be? Thankfully God will work all of that out. He understands justice much better than I. I am confident, however, that when he judges, I and all who witness his justice will not dispute that it was, indeed, justice.

3) Is God being hypocritical to tell us to love our enemies when he tortures His? Why or why not?

I don't think so. Why or why not? I have something to say here... but later. Be patient.

4) Is there any room in Scripture for Annihilationism (notice I am not asking you if you believe in Annihilationsism....)?

I don't really think that there is room for annihilationism, but I do think that the arguments for annihilationism are not completely unfounded. I can see why someone could take the forever and ever as not referring to eternal suffering in hell but eternal damnation, the banishment from God's presence.

5) As I tried to remind yall about earlier, we are not looking forward to eternity in heaven but upon a new earth. That being remembered, how similar to the earth is Hell actually? We may not be able to say anything here really- just speculate.

Again more later.

6) For those with a very 'nice' view of God, here's a question for you, does God love those in Hell? If so, tell me what that even means. For those who say that God only loves the elect (or for some, perhaps, the Elect), does God only love some of His enemies whereas we are to love all of our enemies? Or are we only to love our e/Elect enemies?

I have a real problem with God loving people in hell. It sounds good to say that God loves everyone for all eternity but I do not think it is taught thus in Scripture. I'm not getting into the limited atonement debate here.

7) (new 11/23/08) What about babies who have not yet received the gospel?... harder than you think....

This is another topic that I intend on addressing later. I do not see an exegetical basis for the age of accountability and the automatic ushering of children into heaven. I wish I could teach it but I can't. Since nothing in Scripture forces me to accept that children that die early go to hell, I am willing to leave this a mystery that I trust God will deal with justly and in accordance with his nature.

8) Or does Scripture really not give us very many answers about Hell and we really just have to say we don't know. In other words, my questions are pointless and I'm wasting your precious time.

I don't think I'm wasting your time. What do you think?

Hellish Questions

Just because I am posting a new blog does not mean you, dear readers - whoever you may be, do not have an obligation or invitation (the latter is nicer I guess) to comment on the story I posted directly prior. I really want interaction, suggestions, critiques, reactions, complements, and insults. So suffice to say, if you haven't read it or commented please do if you have the time. Thanks Brenda for your reaction. I am awaiting the thoughts you are chewing on.

But let's move from creative writing to dull writing (or fiction to nonfiction if you prefer those terms). What all do we really know about hell and the eternal state of the wicked? I'm going to pull an Austin Surls here and just ask some questions instead of offering answers. But I'm going to be Austin Surls on steroids because I have more than one question to ask. Unlike Surls however, I'm going to give some of my own thoughts after I ask these questions, just not today. I do want to learn from yall (forgive my 4 years in Virginia). Let us begin a dialogue then my friends. Here are some questions (JUST QUESTIONS don't burn me for heresy... yet!) for us to discuss:

1) Is Hellfire literal or a metaphor?

1a) If the latter, does hell involve physical punishment? Or just separation from God?

2) If those entering hell are judged by their works (seen clearly in Rev. 20 and elsewhere) can we assume that there are different levels of hell?

2b) If we do assume that there are different levels of hell, how extreme are the differences between the worst person in hell and the 'best' person in hell? Or do these questions even make sense?

2c) If we are assuming different levels of hell, what are the factors that determine how bad your hell is? Works would seem obvious... Does how much 'light' you had on this earth factor in? Does much suffering experienced on the old earth lighten your suffering in hell at all? Or does the person who lived a life of luxury and the person who starved to death receive the same level of punishment?

3) Is God being hypocritical to tell us to love our enemies when he tortures His? Why or why not?

4) Is there any room in Scripture for Annihilationism (notice I am not asking you if you believe in Annihilationsism....)?

5) As I tried to remind yall about earlier, we are not looking forward to eternity in heaven but upon a new earth. That being remembered, how similar to the earth is Hell actually? We may not be able to say anything here really- just speculate.

6) For those with a very 'nice' view of God, here's a question for you, does God love those in Hell? If so, tell me what that even means. For those who say that God only loves the elect (or for some, perhaps, the Elect), does God only love some of His enemies whereas we are to love all of our enemies? Or are we only to love our e/Elect enemies?

7) (new 11/23/08) What about babies who have not yet received the gospel?... harder than you think....

8) Or does Scripture really not give us very many answers about Hell and we really just have to say we don't know. In other words, my questions are pointless and I'm wasting your precious time.

You may assume many things about me because of the questions I am asking. Don't. I'm just asking questions about a difficult issue. Unfortunately I think it is too often treated as a clearly defined cut and dry issue.

(If 8 questions are too many for you to handle just tackle 1 or 2)

The lake of fire, methinks, is murkier than we think....

Apology of Hell, Chapter 1

What follows is the beginning of my attempts at an apology of hell in the format of a story. I need feedback, positive and/or negative. If it is good, if you like it, tell me. I need to know if I have anything going here. I also want to be able to improve it, so I also need constructive criticism. Honesty is virtuous.... I don't think I'm an overly sensitive/fragile person, though I am a little nervous posting this!

Also feel free to interact with the ideas behind the story. Obviously this is not meant to be a mere bedtime story.

Nate and Crista,
I think I showed this to you before. The beginning is much changed but the bulk of the middle and end is the same. I value your opinions and would like to hear them again, even if already expressed, whenever you have the time.

Everyone else,
I will take your advice and critiques seriously. Your suggestions will probably lead to edits and changes. Think of this as a rough draft. More will come as I write it.



Remembering...

Dying is a blur. I remember the fading but little else. But as to the details of living, my memory is much stronger in death than ever it was in life. Every forgotten, murky, and trivial strand is now remembered as vitally important, clear and distinct, and finally irreversible. In the last days of my life I had difficulty remembering much I had forgotten. Now I am trying hard to forget everything but I am unable to forget even the smallest detail of my existence.

What follows is my past, present and future. There is nothing coming to change my existence. My past created my present and determined my future. My story is not intended to frighten you, though it may. I describe my life now to reflect upon that which I cannot change. I wanted to argue my case. You can judge whether I have one.

The fruit of the eyes

Awake again, I found myself in a small room, empty and devoid of furniture, color, doors, or windows. I was naked, but was neither hot nor cold, I could not even tell if there was a temperature in the room, but I was both sweating and shivering. I was afraid of the emptiness and of being alone but was terrified when I saw a creature appear in front of me. It, like me, was naked. It seemed human but had no organs from which one could distinguish its sex. Its face was without a hint of an expression. Throughout all of our talks it never smiled and it never frowned. It spoke to me in a voice unlike anything that I had heard. It was clear and distinct and I do not think one could have ever misunderstood any word it spoke, but to describe it further is impossible. This expressionless, sexless, and descriptionless being studied me briefly without speaking and then introduced itself.

“I am Immer-Messe. I am here to explain and enlighten. Do you know where you are or why you are here?”

He asked, but I think he knew I was ignorant of either answer. When I had managed a weak ‘no’ he went on.

“You are here to reap what you produced in life. Here you will eat what you have fed to others and wear what you have given to others. Whatever god you have chosen to worship for will repay you for your service, if it is able.”

“You will now reap the fruit of your adultery,” it continued after a pause for a reply that I did not have ready.

It was wrong. I argued his claim, “I never cheated on my wife. There has been some mistake.”

“You dispute that you are a cheater?”

“Yes I do.” I replied confidently and indignantly.

“You never desired other women?” He asked peering deeply into my eyes, “Never undressed a woman in your mind? Never looked at images of women other than your wife? What you do with your mind, even if never acted upon, still bears fruit here.”

This creature was infuriating and intrusive but I was compelled to answer and found myself unable to lie,. “Uh…” the words were stuck in my mouth, “I might of done so on occasionally. No more than anyone else. But that didn’t harm anyone. My wife didn’t mind much. She never really lacked my love. I was good to her. I was faithful to her. How can you accuse me of adultery by charging me with a victimless crime?”

“Victimless? We will allow you to judge whether it is victimless. You will see and you will judge. Here now, is the harvest of your adultery!”

He and the room slowly faded. I found myself in an old bedroom. I was standing in front of the mirror but the image looking back at me was not my own, but that of my first wife. Judging from her face this was a late in our marriage which had begun to strain. As I (?) looked in the mirror I felt fat and bloated. I began to feel ugly and unwanted. Tears began to flow steadily down my face leaving my eyes red and blotchy and I felt even more ugly. I then turned around and sat down at the computer in our bedroom. On the screen was a picture of a twenty-two year old model with the perfect body. As I looked at her I compared her assets with those of the image in the mirror. The comparison again made me feel ugly and worthless. I felt ashamed of my body and of myself. Who could ever love anyone so unattractive? On the desk was a wedding picture. My hand (or my ex-wife’s hand) took it and smashed it against the wall. My shame turned to hatred, my hatred turned to back to tears. I made another trip to the mirror but the image was too disgusting to endure. I walked into the bathroom and found the scale. 138. Somehow I knew this meant I had gained another pound. The feelings of frustration and despair were overwhelming. I went to the toilet and knelt down in front of it. I began to make myself throw up….

Slowly, although I cannot tell how or when, the scene faded. I was no longer in my wife’s body, but the emotions I had been suffering remained. I was back in the same small room. It had changed however since I had left it. On one side of the room was a great table, with no end of my favorite meals. The wall opposite the table was one giant mirror. Against the third wall was a toilet and nothing else. On the last wall was a computer. At the desk sat my ex-wife, and on the screen was the ideal male body in a double bicep pose.

As time progressed, I felt more and more hungry and I helped myself to the fried chicken. The chicken tasted exactly as I remembered it but as I ate, I could feel my body expand and the feelings I had while I had been in my ex-wife’s body returned. The desire to be attractive to my ex overwhelmed me as the hunger had earlier. I turned from the chicken to the mirror to the man on the screen. I felt disgusting. I shouldn’t have eaten the chicken. I crawled to the toilet as if by habit. Throwing up was miserable. As I threw up I felt my body begin to shrink back to its original size, but I couldn’t get the taste of my own vomit out of my mouth and I felt disgusting. I looked at my ex again, hoping that she would take notice of me. She didn’t. She continued to stare at the man on the screen. I looked back at my reflection. I was still disgusting. Now the feelings of despair and hopelessness returned. I collapsed in the middle of the room and was overwhelmed by tears of sadness, anger, and frustration. They were interrupted by an intense hunger and desire to eat….

I cannot remember how many times this cycle repeated itself nor can I remember how or when it finally ended. Whether the shift was gradual or sudden, I cannot say. All I know is that eventually one scene faded or ended and another scene began.

I was in the center of the same small room. Instead of a mirror for one wall, the walls, ceiling, and floor reflected my own image. The image that I saw was much improved from the last scene. I was young (twenty-one or two) and in perfect shape (better than I’d ever been in my life). In the previous scene, the only attention I got from my wife was a glance of disgust. Now I was surrounded by women and I was the obvious center of attention. For the first time of my stay in hell, I felt good.

The women, however, never approached me or talked to me. At first I could not catch what they were saying, but I began to catch comments occasionally. They were making lewd and vulgar comments about my body. When I realized what they saying, I was embarrassed but slightly pleased at the attention and rather proud that my body could attract such attention. I waited, hoping that finally one of them would come and talk to me, but my patience bore no fruit. At last, rather frustrated and overcome by loneliness, I began to call out to them, hoping, longing to have an actual conversation, but none of them responded. As my loneliness grew stronger, so did my frustration. I began screaming and shouting. I finally realized that not only did they care nothing about me, but that as far as they were concerned I didn’t exist. My body was just an image for their pleasure. The real me; my character, my thoughts, feelings and well-being, meant nothing to them. I was a picture, nothing more.

Slowly, I became aware of a disturbing sensation. My body was changing. As I watched in the ever-present mirrors, I began to age. My face, which had been perfectly smooth, began to wrinkle. My muscle tone lost its definition. My waistline began to expand. For the first time, I noticed that there were other men in the room. I don’t know if they were there before or not, but there they were. They were as young and fit as I had been earlier. The women became bored with me and the crowd around me dwindled as they spread out to the other men. I was filled with despair and as my body continued to deteriorate, so did my self-worth. I tried everything I could think of to catch the attention of the women in the room but nothing worked. I was powerless. No one paid me the least bit of attention. I was worthless. All I wanted was someone to talk to, someone to complement me, someone to care about me. But of course, they didn’t, I was nothing. To them, not only did I not now exist, but I never had.

Again the scene faded, and I found the room as it had been at first, empty and without door or detail. In front me appeared that same strange creature with whom I had previously conversed.

“You have just begun to taste the feast you have made for yourself,” he looked at me directly in the eyes but I could not return his gaze and looked away. “Now you know the after taste of lust. You have yet to complete your punishment, and you never will, but it is sufficient for now. For now it is finished. Was your punishment unjust? Are the accusations false? There must be no questions of justice.”

I tried to answer it but I could not. I wanted to protest and argue that I did not intend to hurt anyone, but the words would not come out. I wanted to lie and deny that I had ever been guilty of his accusations, but I could not. I knew that penalty had been fair and no words could leave my lips.

“Do you accept the justice of your punishment?”

My head had already drooped in shame and I could not look at the creature. After a brief pause I could do naught but nod and hang my head in shame.

Apologizing for hell or an apology of hell?

So far this blog has been devoted to the eternal state. We will now continue this subject but from the other side. I am not by any means done with the positive angle. I am sure I will return to it often in the coming weeks.

This post will not serve as my 'apology for hell' but more as an introduction to my thoughts and feelings about hell and why I believe what I believe about it. This foundation will help (hopefully) as we look more deeply into the subject and I introduce the novel I've been toying with writing. Your comments and interaction would be appreciated as I write. (Many of you have made comments on facebook or in person about my blogs but are not subscribers! Shame on you! Subscribe and interact! I need more feedback!!)

The short blurb about my least favorite verses has some bearing here. Of all of the Bible's difficult teachings the one I dislike the most, the one I am most embarrassed to mention, most terrified to preach about, most eager to renounce, and (perhaps) least understand, is the doctrine of the eternal, conscious, torture of the unsaved in the place we know of as hell.

Many preachers have been accused of being hellfire and damnation preachers. These guys make preaching about hell a central theme of their message. When they preach the gospel they do not focus upon the beauty of a renewed fellowship with God or even (sometimes) the death and resurrection of Christ. Instead they tell of the terrors of a lake of literal fire. Imagine, they urge you, to imagine a place of complete darkness. They ask you if you have ever been burnt, ever felt what being burned with fire feels like. Now imagine that all over your whole body, but not for an instant, forever and ever and ever. This is what is coming to you if you do not say these magic words and receive Jesus into your heart (whatever the heck that means). Take out a policy from Jesus' Premium Fire Insurance and you'll never get burned. Escape hell with the repetition of these simple words. Its so easy to escape and the consequences so frightening that it makes no sense not to repeat the simplistic phrases he gives you to repeat. When you're done, he tells you that your coverage is good forever and you don't have to worry about it anymore. You can go through life now and never have to think about it again.

Although this may be something of an exaggerated depiction of a certain stripe of preachers, the picture is not really very extreme. Not only have I heard these guys many times (not only in fundamentalist baptist circles btw) but an inordinate amount of peoples' testimonies that I hear will point to a fear of hell being the motivating factor in their 'praying the sinners prayer' and 'receiving Jesus into their heart'. I'll lay off my hatred of these phrases for now.

The problems with this approach are too many to list, but I'll attempt it anyway. 1) This approach is the raping of the gospel by abandoning the central focus. 2) It takes the focus off of sin and places it upon punishment, consequently causing the hearer to focus upon God's wrath and anger instead of his mercy and grace. 3)This approach motivates people by a fear of punishment without the requirement of a real commitment to following Jesus Christ. 4) This approach results in a huge population of insincere and uncommitted Christians (or supposed Christians) who have little or no understanding of the gospel and little or no intention of living out the implications of a gospel to which they've never been exposed. 5) This approach misses the real point of hell and makes it a place of primarily physical torment. 6) This approach simplifies the Bible's teaching on hell and does not think deeply about some of the more complex issues.

I'm not this guy. I don't often (if ever) mention hell when I present the gospel. I heavily emphasize sin and the need for grace, but I make no attempt to scare people to Jesus or sell them fire insurance. I avoid the issue in conversation, witnessing, and teaching whenever possible. I am ashamed of hell. My discussion of hell tends to be an attempt to apologize for hell. I too am out of balance. If God made hell, then it is just. If Scripture teaches us about hell, then I ought to teach it. If hell is real, I ought not to pretend it doesn't exist. Subsequent blogs will be an attempt to quit apologizing for hell with an apology (defense) of hell.

This issue is important to me for some very personal reasons. I have struggled with accepting and understanding this doctrine. I have had a very close friend abandon Christ, in large part, because of what Scripture teaches on the subject. I have close friends and relatives who are, according to my understanding of the doctrine, bound for eternity in this place. I pray that my writing will be beneficial and corrective not only to whoever reads, but to my own life and ministry.

Interspersed throughout my discussions on this topic will be more on the New Jerusalem and the blessings of an eternity with the Savior. This subject is too dark to embark upon without an occasional sunbreak.