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The time is 7:50 p.m. I have been sitting here for two hours and 50 minutes. Here is a U. S. Airways plane on the tarmac at the airport in Charlotte, North Carolina. I am on my way to Newark, New Jersey. The plane is full and the air conditioning is laboring in vain to cool it. As I wipe the perspiration from my brow, I have concluded that there are more small children on this flight than on any other flight that I have ever flown.
I am not sure why, but my thoughts have turned toward hell. My working definition of hell is simply eternity without the possibility of fellowship with God. It is not actually my definition. My professor of systematic theology at Southern Seminary, William Hendricks, gave it to me or, rather, to us. For me, it has summed up the essence of all the fire and brimstone that we think of when we think of hell. I cannot imagine any more severe eternal punishment than to be alive forever without the possibility of knowing and being known by God and God’s people. The outer darkness may be darker still, but I cannot imagine how so.
Before eternity, there is now. From time to time, we find ourselves in situations that may cause us to wonder whether or not this situation or that situation might be a little bit like what hell would be like. Granted, the answer to our speculation is usually NO. When we take the time to think about what it is that is troubling us, more often than not we can usually think of someone else who is having a rougher time than we are.
To be certain, there are days in the lives of some people that seem to go beyond hellish. The hurt and horribleness of those sorts of days bring unspeakable pain; all the more so when those days turn into weeks, then months, and then years.
What causes days like that? A senseless act of violence will cause a day like that. The actions of a depraved and sick soul will cause us to think we are living through hell on earth. Violence directed at someone we love will cause us to wonder if this is what hell is like.
I think war can have a similar impact on people. I imagine our men and women serving in Iraq have thought about hell. Mothers and children living in war zones have had experiences that may have felt like hell. Even wars fought long ago have left scars and memories that, if spoken aloud, can bring tears to the speaker’s eyes.
Poverty causes some people to wonder if they might be living in something akin to hell. The same might be said for those who are hungry and can’t buy food, those who are sick and can’t get treatment, or those who are houseless and can’t get a house.
Some people cannot imagine a hell any worse than the one they see every time they close their eyes. To have been abused by another who is bigger and stronger creates that kind of hell. To be abused by one who should have been trustworthy and loving only makes its fires burn with greater anguish.
Addiction is hell for an addict. To have one’s life controlled by a drug makes life hellish not only for the addict, but for those who are close to him as well.
For others, hell is constructed with the bitterness and frustration life has brought their way. They learn to live with an anger always seething just below the surface of their daily routines. They have been disappointed too many times to ever trust, much less love again.
Whatever images come to mind when we think about hell, and whatever life experiences form our speculations about what hell may be like, I believe separation is the defining word. In one way or another, our hellish experiences in this life separate us from those we love. They separate us from our best selves, the persons God intends for us to be. They may even cause us to separate ourselves from God.
However much like hell they may seem to be, they are not. Hell is for eternity. It is the last thing that God wants for any of us. Whatever hardship, trial, or tragedy we face in this life will one day end when we finally rest in the arms of God. That would be heaven -- eternity with full, complete and perfect fellowship with God.
I am no longer sitting in Charlotte. Now I am in a holding pattern over Newark. Did I tell you that I was sitting next to a man from Alabama? It is not hell, it is New Jersey.
Joy and peace,
Ed
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