Relax, Hell isn't Real!

Welcome new subscribers! This week, we’re continuing our series on FEAR. There’s a bit on parenting here, but if you’re looking for a more parenting-specific article, I can recommend The Extreme Weirdness of Trying to Buy a Bible for My Kids. You can also search “parenting” in the archive.Obsessing Over the AfterlifeGrowing up Evangelical, there were a lot of things to be afraid of, including but not limited to:* being “left behind” at the rapture* demons * tarnishing one’s purity Simultaneously, we were shamed for being afraid and told that our fear was due to a lack of faith.By far though, my biggest fear was Hell. Would I forget to confess a sin and be cast into eternal damnation? Could I “backslide” and lose my salvation? I worried about friends and loved ones and even strangers on the street. It seemed to me that no one else was taking Hell seriously enough—it was ETERNAL, after all. I wondered how my fellow churchgoers could believe in this vision of Hell and not spend every waking moment obnoxiously evangelizing every single person they met?God was love, I was often told, but God was also perfect and He demanded perfection. Trying to be perfect was the only way of ensuring I wouldn’t be condemned. God was the Big Angry Man in the Sky who was just waiting to drop the hammer on all of us. Heretic Hereafter is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.A Change of HeartIt took a lot of life experience, theological study, and therapy for me to admit the truth: Hell makes no sense. Penal Substitutionary Atonement (the predominant way of looking at Jesus’ crucifixion in most American churches) makes no sense, either. Once I became a parent, I could not imagine God (who is supposed to be the perfect parent) subjecting any of his children to eternal punishment or coercing them into loving him by threatening to torture them forever.I can imagine hackles rising even as I write this. If you are a believer in Hell and PSA, you probably want to stop reading right here. But I want to challenge you to consider the alternative—can you imagine how your faith and your life would be different if you let go of these beliefs? If, at the end of my article, you’re unconvinced, that’s fine. Just give me five minutes, if you please.Do All Dogs Go to Heaven?I’m not alone in doubting Hell’s existence. Christian Universalism (the idea that all people will eventually be saved) dates back at least 300 years, if not longer. (For reference, the modern belief of a Pre-Tribulation Rapture is only about 200 years old.) Author and Methodist minister, Derek Ryan Kubilus, explores the arguments for and against Hell in his book, Holy Hell: A Case Against Eternal Damnation. Kubilus examines the Bible verses commonly cited as evidence for Hell, pointing out that many English translations put a thumb on the scale. For example, certain words are sometimes translated as “Hell” and sometimes simply as “pit” or “grave.” He also points out that our modern understanding of Hell comes more from Dante’s Inferno rather than the Bible. The Ancient Jews and Greeks who were writing and reading the Bible had very different schemas of the afterlife. In Kubilus’ telling, even the Bible’s allusions to fire and brimstone aren’t about torture, they’re part of a series of metallurgical metaphors, speaking to the process of refining ore into gold rather than punishing baddies. Wait, What About Hitler?Kubilus, like some Universalists, believes in Purgatory—that is, that based on our sins, we will all be subject to some process of “refinement.” For someone like Hitler, it might take 5 million years, but eventually even he could be saved.I was surprised to find a Protestant version of Purgatory. Is it necessary? Couldn’t God just choose to forgive, like we humans do? But I admit, it does deal with the problem of justice: we don’t want people like Hitler to go to straight to Heaven, do we? It just doesn’t feel right.When You Punch Your Friend in the Face for No ReasonThis question of justice became real for me recently, when my 11-year-old, T, got in trouble at schoo