A close look at hell can make us
more godly and compassionate.
That Hideous Doctrine
That hideous doctrine of
hell is fading. How often have you
thought of it in the past month, for instance?
Does it make a difference in your concern for others, in your
witness? Is it a constant and proper
burden?
Most believers would have to
say no. But the individual isn’t the
only one to blame. After all, the
doctrine no longer gets its float in the church parade; it has become a museum
piece at best, stored in the shadows of a far corner.
The reality of hell,
however, demands we haul the monstrous thing out again and study it until it
changes us. Ugly, garnish, and familiar
as it is, this doctrine will indeed have a daily, practical, and personal effect
on every believer who comes to terms with its force.
Our Lord’s words on the
subject are unnerving. In Luke 16, He
tells us of a rich man who died and went to Hades (the abode of the unsaved
dead between death and final judgment).
From that story and a few other revelatory facts, we can infer several
characteristics of hell.
First, it’s a
place of great physical pain. The rich man’s initial remark concludes with
his most pressing concern: “I am in agony in this flame” (Lk.
We all have experienced pain
to some degree. We know it can make a
mockery of all life’s goals and beauties.
Yet we do not seem to know pain as a hint of hell, a searing foretaste
of what will befall those who do not know Christ, a grim reminder of what we
will be spared from.
God does leave us with
simply the mute fact of hell’s physical pain.
He tells us how real people will respond to that pain. Our Lord is not being macabre; He is simply
telling us the truth.
First, there will be “weeping” (Lk.
Recall how you were affected
when you last heard someone weep.
Remember how you were moved with compassion to want to protect and
restore that person? The Lord wants us
to know and consider what an upsetting experience it is for the person in hell.
Another response will be “wailing” (Mt.
A third response will be “gnashing of teeth” (Lk.
Hell has two other aspects,
rarely considered, which are both curious and frightening. On earth we take for granted two physical
properties that help keep us physically, mentally, and emotionally stable. The first is light; the second is solid,
fixed surfaces. Oddly, these two
dependables will not accommodate those in hell.
Hell is a place of
darkness (Mt.
In his past life he learned
that if he looked long enough, a glow of light somewhere would yield definition
to his surroundings. So he blinks and
strains his eyes, but his efforts yield only darkness. He turns and strains his eyes in another
direction. He waits. He sees nothing but unyielding black
ink. It clings to him, smothering and
oppressing him.
Realizing that the darkness
is not going to give way, he nervously begins to feel for something solid to
get his bearings. He reaches for walls
or rocks or trees or chairs; he stretches his legs to feel the ground and
touches nothing.
Hell is a
“bottomless pit” (Rev. 20:1, 2
KJV); however, the new occupant is slow to learn. In growing panic, he kicks his feet and waves
his arms. He stretches and he
lunges. But he finds nothing. After more feverish tries, he pauses from
exhaustion, suspended in total darkness.
Suddenly, with a scream he kicks, twists, and lunges until he is again
too exhausted to move.
He hangs there, alone with
his pain. Unable to touch a solid object
or see a solitary thing, he begins to weep.
His sobs choke through the
darkness. They become weak, then lost in hell’s roar.
As time passes, he begins to
do what the rich man did – he again starts to think. His first thoughts are of hope. You see, he still thinks like he did on
earth, where he kept himself alive with hope.
When things got bad, he always found a way out. If he felt pain, he took medicine. If he were hungry, he ate food. If he lost love, there was more love to be found.
So he casts about in his
mind for a plan to apply to the hope building in his chest.
Of course, he thinks, Jesus, the God of
love, can get me out of this.
He cries out with a surge, “Jesus!
Jesus! You were right! Help me!
Get me out of this!”
He waits, breathing hard
with desperation. The sound of his voice
slips into the darkness and is lost.
He tries again. “I
believe, Jesus! I believe now! Save me from this!” Again the darkness smothers his words.
Our sinner is not
unique. Everyone in hell believes.
When he wearies of appeals,
he does next what anyone would do – assesses his situation and attempts to adapt. But then it hits him – this is forever.
Jesus made it very
clear. He used the same words for
“forever” to describe both heaven and hell.
Forever,
he thinks, and his mind labors through the darkness until he aches.
“Forever!” he whispers in wonder. The idea
deepens, widens, and towers over him.
The awful truth spreads
before him like endless, overlapping slats: When
I put in ten thousand centuries of time here, I will not have accomplished one
thing. I will not have one second less
to spend here.
As the rich man pleaded for
a drop of water, so, too, our new occupant entertains a similar ambition. In life he learned that even bad things could
be tolerated if one could find temporary relief. Perhaps even hell, if one could rest from
time to time, would be more tolerable.
He learns, though, that “the
smoke of [his] torment goes up forever and ever; and [he has] no rest day and
night” (Rev. 14:11 NASB).
No rest day and night –
think of that.
Thoughts of this happening
to people we know, people like us, are too terrifying
to entertain for long. The idea of
allowing someone to endure such torture for eternity violates the sensibilities
of even the most severe judge among us.
We simply cannot bear it.
But our thoughts of hell
will never be as unmanageable as its reality.
We must take this doctrine of hell, therefore,
and make sure we are practically affected by it.
A hard look at this doctrine should first change our view of sin. Most believers do not take sin as seriously
as God does. We need to realize that in
God’s eyes, and in His actual plan, sin deserves eternal punishment in hell.
We can actually learn, by
comparison, to hate sin as God hates it.
As the reality of hell violates and offends us, for example, so sin
violates and offends God. As we cannot
bear to look upon the horrors of hell, so God cannot bear to look upon the
horrors of sin. As hell revolts us to
the point of hatred for it, so also God finds sin revolting. The comparison is not perfect, but it offers
a start.
Second, the truth
of hell should encourage our witness. Can we ever hear a sigh of weariness, see a
moment of doubt, or feel pain without being reminded of that place? In all honesty, can we see any unbeliever,
watch his petty human activities, realize what he has in store, and not be
moved with compassion? It encourages us
to witness in word and in deed.
That hideous doctrine may grip our souls in dark terror and make us
weep, but let us be sure it also prompts us to holiness and compassion.