Thoughts on Heaven and Hell

Heaven. Hell. How many people actually believe they exist? Even of those who say they do I’m finding there are many who really don’t. Or rather, they don’t think on it at all. Their visions of heaven and hell have been as much shaped by multi-media as anyone else’s.

Then, of course, there are the reformer’s ideas. Heaven becomes this boring celestial city where we sit around singing out-of-tune hymns and hell is all fire and brimstone.

I read both Mere Christianity and The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis and his ideas on heaven and hell spurred me to realize what my ideas where. Then, a few months later, I went through this panic about whether or not I really was saved. If you check further back in the blog you can read all the wonderings and fearmongerings I was doing then. And, it’s good to work out your faith from time to time. But *why* was I so upset? *Why* is being a Christian so necessary? I came to one conclusion and that conclusion has changed the way I see the world. It’s so important because I am desperate to get to Heaven, and desperate to avoid Hell.

Well, what is Heaven, what is Hell, that they should matter? I could give you a bunch of verses that may or may not make sense, refer you to articles I’ve read, and I may do that, but I’d rather just tell you about what I believe.

You may have heard the old song “when I get to heaven, gonna talk with Jesus, when I get to heaven, gonna see his face…” And we dismiss the words.

Imagine this: you die. You die and the world goes dark around you and you blink and there you are, standing before the throne of God. Light brighter than the sun on the hottest day, brighter than the sun without ozone, brighter than any star, blasts you, staggers you back, but you don’t die. You’re already dead, remember. As you squint through the light you see a man before you. He is both so big that his throne cannot contain him and just the right size to meet with you. What shines from his face is Glory, Power, Love, Justice, Mercy, and Wrath. Again you’re staggered, and this time you drop to a knee as you realize who you’re before. And, as soon as that realization hits you memory does as well. You’re no God, you’ve failed, you don’t deserve to be here. Mourning and panic and fear and awe sieze you. You drop to your face in the heavenly dirt, tears stream from your eyes. “My God, forgive me,” you beg, even as you acknowledge that you don’t deserve it.

Then a hand is on your shoulder, and you choke on even more tears, because of the warmth and generous love that spreads through you, the forgiveness. “Arise my beloved,” says a voice that is both quite and permeating in a way that no bullet could be, “you have served me well.” You look up and the One on the throne, though He is still somehow upon it, is also before you, helping you your feet, brushing off the dirt. And there is such compassion, such pride, such love in his eyes that again you are overwhelmed. At once you are entirely known and every ache and every hole in who are is healed and sealed up. The joy and intimacy you sought through sex is fulfilled, the confidence you sought through jobs is granted, the humility you sought through service is attained. You stand there, struck dumb for ages by the amazing thing that has been done for you. You who knows you don’t deserve it. You’re more real and more whole than you ever were when alive. It feels like you just woke up from a lingering dream. God himself is pleased by you and wraps you in a welcoming hug. You’re shocked that God would touch you, because all your life, though you prayed and sang and read and did your very best to believe without proof and serve without return, God was still something you didn’t quite comprehend. But now you see Him clearly, see yourself clearly. You are loved, you will never be turned away, you are known, and in that you are made the best possible you. You’re forgiven, you’re fixed. Nothing could surpass what you’re experiencing. Each new moment in the presence of your God reveals new insights. For the first time in your life you’re free, content, happy, fully informed of the state of yourself.

And then it gets better, because your eyes turn to take in this realer than real heavenly place and you see a country all around you. A city without walls. Pastures and woods stretch into the distance. Trees in fruit and trees in bloom. Soft grass and inviting riverbanks. Glorious roads leading into a distance. People, old friends who you’d mourned, enemies and now you’re excited to see them free as well, and a goodness in them you could never recognize in your Earthly life. There are people there who you never knew, and some you recognize though you’ve never met. All complex and complete. Angels and men walking and talking together. More company than you’ll ever need but how wondrous to share such a thing with them. Not only are there plants and people, but animals too, and water, and food. Such food as you’ve never had. Food untainted by toxins, or death. Sweet and rich. Food that fills you. And you find that you’re not hungry nor thirsty nor tired. Every pang of sadness is healed, every remorse set aside for the joy of where you are and in whose light you stand. This is a place that has a place for you. You belong here. You were made for here. This is where the forgiven stand. This is the home of the renewed, and it is forever.

Now, in contrast, imagine Hell.

You die, you feel your soul slip from this world like a hand passing through the surface of water. For a moment nothing and then you are aware. Of nothing. At first all you feel is pain, pain that cannot be stopped our placed, it bounces from limb to limb like a child playing hopscotch. Your skin feels like it’s burning, your bones like their breaking. You try to scream, but no noise comes. Try to thrash but feel no movement. You hear nothing. Finally you open your eyes and you see nothing. It takes a while, because you’re in denial, you think you’ll wake up, you think the real world will come back to you, before you realize where you are. You didn’t really believe in this place. It’s so hard to conceptualize. You’re in Hell. Your limbs ache like one giant amputee. You feel them while they seem to no exist. You feel like a vapor. That sense of incompletness, of being not quite whole, that lingered in life, is now consuming, maddening. You never even got a chance to see what you’re missing, but somehow you know, because now that you’re in so much agony you can easily imagine what the opposite it.

But this place has no escape hatch. It is nowhere and it goes on without end. You don’t know if anyone else is here. For all you know you’re the only one. You hope you aren’t, but you can’t be sure. No senses to tell you otherwise, not even the smell of your own burning flesh to assure you this is real, and you can’t kick the feeling that you are less real than you were before, less valid by exponents. You can’t kick at all. And you can’t take comfort from knowing your enemies are here too. You agonize over the possibility that the people you hated most aren’t here. You wish for a fair fight, try to scream that God should come down here and face you, but you know you had your chance. Now, suddenly, and with sudden clarity, you can see all the times you had chances and turned them away, all the possibilities that would have lead to a different end but you ignored. You see with stunning clarity just how unworthy you were of the good things you received, and how much you took for granted. You see with true clarity the reality of the universe, and how small you are, how messed up, how dirty, how alone. This is your fault. You’re guilty here. The weight of your pride and degradation are yours to bear. Here it is both a sensory deprivation tank and a torture chamber. None mocks you but your own failings. None but your own heart accuses you. The world has lifted away and you have fallen into the void. And with a growing sense of horror and mourning, so overwhelming in its intensity you’d cry if you could, you understand. This is Hell, and it’s forever.

When I think of Heaven and Hell these are the concepts that trail through my mind. No clouds in heaven, no boring hymns (though I’m sure there will be singing. I imagine it’ll be a bit like Sojourn, a good mix of everything), no babies with wings and harps. Neither do I think it’ll be a throng of enraptured looking people standing around a giant impersonal throne whispering words like “God” and “Savior” and “Master” (though I imagine that there will be a good bit of that as well). I think there will be singing, and eating, swimming, laughing, eye rolling, joking, painting, stone working, writing, relaxing, running and jumping, talking, hugging, reminiscing, thinking, quiet being, and shouting. I think there will be learning, and some forgetting, I think there will be making, and building, and planning, and doing. Heaven will not be static. Nor will it be impure. There won’t be sex (sex, like sleeping, are not bad at all, but will be fulfilled in different ways once we reach that Heavenly realm), or sleeping. There won’t be resentment or fights or pride or “issues” or ego or disappointment or rage. There won’t be malicious talk or depression. There won’t be failure or lying, or injury. There won’t be broken trust or broken hearts.

Hell, on the other hand, won’t be a big party with all your biggest partier friends. It won’t be the place where all the rebels go to have a good time without anyone telling them what to do. It won’t be a gathering of all the strong ones while the weak ones go to a nice quite white place. It won’t be sexy (I imagine more it’ll be castrating and filled with a sense of incontinence). It won’t be comfy. You see, all pleasure comes from God, and Hell is supposed to be, at its most basic, the absence of God. So, you couldn’t even have your favorite sins if God wasn’t in the world making pleasantness possible. Since God makes things, and holds all things together I think it’s reasonable to assume that Hell will be without true place or true form. That means there won’t even be devils or demons wandering around to yell at you and poke you with nasty pitch forks. Hell is going to be one nasty place. A to fear and a place to avoid at all costs. And, please understand me that when I say this I mean only truth and no malice: lots of very good people are going to find themselves in Hell. Being good won’t save you. And not believing in it won’t stop you from going.

Why wouldn’t you want to think on this? Why wouldn’t you want to hope for the one and dread the other? Our faith is not just for this life. Jesus didn’t die just to offer us a new way to live for the short time we walk this globe. To live is Christ, yes, but we forget the other part; to die is gain. As Christians shouldn’t we anxiously look forward to the day when we depart from our mortal bodies? Shouldn’t we be excited about what awaits us? I know, you can’t prove Heaven and our modern minds make poor doubting Thomas look very trusting. We don’t want to believe in something in which we don’t have proof. I would suggest that if Heaven seems distasteful to you, or Hell too harsh than perhaps you should reexamine how you think of God.