The Hell of Heaven -Jan Antonsson-
I woke abruptly from an alcohol-induced haze; liquid courage enough to ram my car into a freeway abutment. Multi-hued flames surrounded me, invaded me, but there was no pain. Ribbons of color danced around and in me. Suspended in, buoyed by flame, I attempted a step. Like walking on a cushion of air, there was no sense of movement. Profound beauty mingled with terror and anguish. I wondered at the absence of demons and the screams of tormented souls. “No one will believe me,” I thought, trying to believe it myself.
“Welcome, Driscoll,” a voice whispered. “We’ve been waiting for you. Your place is prepared.”
Terrified, I cried out, “Where am I, who are you?”
“In hell, of course.” I am the hell which you so dreaded. How does it feel?”
“Um, well, it isn’t exactly as I’d imagined it. This isn’t what the preacher described last Sunday.”
“No, it’s not. He is ignorant and blind. He lied to you, though he doesn’t really know it. He only echoed his professors in seminary.”
If this is hell, are you the devil?
As beautiful as a well-tuned bell, a deep, joyful chuckle vibrated within and around me.
“No, I’m afraid you have the wrong guy, my friend.”
“Who then?”
“Do you remember the text your pastor harped on for so long last Sunday?”
“You mean the ‘lake of fire’ text?”
“The very one. That lake is not a place. It is Me.”
“Not sure I’m following you.”
“I AM the One you call God. I am the Creator and the Destroyer of all that is unhealthy and destructive within you. Hell is coming home to Me, to dwell in the fire that is Me, the all-consuming fire.”
I shuddered, terrified suddenly of this Voice. Would hell be less terrifying?
“Are you sending me to hell?”
“Well, my beloved friend, you are in hell already. Don’t you see the fire?”
“Well, yes, but it doesn’t hurt.”
Again, His chuckle reverberated within me.
“Most get it wrong, I’m afraid. They mean well, but they interpret the writings of the prophets and the words of my Son in a way that gives them power over others. Think of it this way. Didn’t the terror of hell keep you on the straight and narrow for a long time?”
“Yes.”
“Priests and preachers, popes and prelates all discovered that their flocks were more compliant when they believed that their particular church was the only path to Me. If they kept them terrified of an eternal torment, they sinned less and kept the church coffers full.”
“So, no hell?”
“Not exactly. Remember the Lake of Fire. But there is definitely no eternal hell…”
“You mean I won’t burn forever?”
“Let me ask you a question. Did the police in Portland where you lived shoot people if they were five miles an hour over the speed limit?”
“No.”
“Why then would I send a beloved child of mine to suffer in torment for eternity for a sin? Your courts tried to keep the punishment somewhat in balance with the crime, right?”
“Yes, I suppose so, though many times justice depended on the color of skin or the wealth of the person accused.”
“Yes, yes, but I’m not talking about that kind of inequality. I’m talking about justice based on the balance of crime and punishment.”
“You mean the punishment fits the crime?”
“Exactly. You were gay, right?”
“Yes.”
“So, if homosexuality is a missing of the mark, what you call a sin, for each homosexual act or thought, how long should I punish you to make justice balance?”
“I have no idea.”
“Come on, give me a number—five years, 50, 50,000, 50 million?”
“Well, to make it interesting, let’s say 50 million.”
“Fair enough. So let’s say there are 10,000 events for which I punish you for 50 million times each. That totals 500 billion years. Is that eternity?”
“Not even close.”
“So we can say that all of your sins of that kind don’t total eternity. How about if we throw in all the rest of your sins?”
“I don’t know how many that would be.”
“Would it equal eternity, if we could put a number to it?”
“Well, probably not…no, it couldn’t, because eternity is infinite and my sins are not.”
“Exactly!” I heard the smile in His voice. “Now let’s talk about purpose. Why would I want to punish you at all?”
“Well, You’re a holy and just God. You have to punish those who disobey you?”
“That makes me so sad. If one of your children wrote on the wall with a crayon, would you hold her hand to the burner of the stove?”
“No, of course not! I’d be a monster.”
“Why would you think you’re better than Me?”
I was thunderstruck. Why indeed? How could I, a mere mortal think I was more compassionate than the God of love? I fell on my face. “Do to me according to Your will and Your goodness,” I wept. My body trembled with heart-wrenching sobs as the realization of His love surged over and within me. I drowned in His love, knew His infinite compassion and mercy. It felt as if I were disintegrating into my component atoms, dissolving in the chrysalis of Him, being reorganized from a crawling caterpillar into a creature designed to fly. Oddly, there was no pain, only joy and blessed relief. The fire didn’t fade, but now my spirit danced in harmony with it. I had no sense of passing time. Finally, I felt arms around me, folding me against a mighty chest. I heard His heartbeat, felt His warmth.
“Welcome home, my beloved son. I’ve longed for this moment from all eternity past. It’s so good to have you here.”
Then I was at peace. I am still at peace, content to dwell within His everlasting arms. He is that for which I searched, longed for in all the twinings of body that never satisfied. As the poet said,
Naught satisfies thee,
Which satisfies not Me.