Heaven and Hell Pt. 8 - Hankering for Hell

Jun 01, 2011 13:56

{{ This entry is a continuation of a series on Heaven and Hell. You can read the previous entries here: [ Preface] [ Part 1] [ Part 2] [ Part 3] [ Part 4] [ Part 5] [ Part 6] [ Part 7] }}

Most children--at some point in their lives--are annoyed enough at the perceived injustices perpetrated upon them by their parents that they leave the dinner table, storm to their room, and barricade themselves inside. No exhortation by a loving parent is sufficient to coax them out and--while at some stage their empty bellies long to return to dinner--the child remains in isolation. Such a choice is not to the child's benefit, nor is it even logical. It is a choice, born of emotion as it may be, which is made anyway.

Even the presentation of concrete evidence that no slight was intended and that the choice to not rejoin the meal will be to the child's own detriment does not provide cause enough to bring the child out of their own pity or self-righteous indignation and back into the company of those who genuinely love him and wish only for his good.

The child would rather sit hungry in his room than be in the presence of the parents who love him.

This phenomenon--illogical as it might seem upon rational inspection--is not unique to young children, however. How many adults have sacrificed friendships or relationships with family members who have, whether in fact or in perception alone, wronged them? How many people allow an offense against themselves by someone whose affection they hold (or at least held) very dear to germinate and ultimately fester into something which undermines and destroys the relationship?

Intervention by an objective friend who explains how irrational and counter-productive such behavior is, in some cases, adequate to break the spell, but not in all cases. There are some situations where no amount of logic or love can win the "offended" back into the fold. They would rather live in their anger, their indignation, their self-righteousness and pride than entertain any offer of reconciliation.

In these cases, Hell rejoices.

Some would argue that a doctrine which allows another chance at salvation from the consequences of sin after a person has died would necessarily imply that none would choose hell. In the presence of the Almighty, they argue, who would not repent? If God is revealed in all his glory and love, extending another offer of grace and mercy, surely there are none who would not accept. Their choice is laid stark and bare in front of them: eternal life or the torments of hell; a God who loves them and wants to transform them into infinitely glorious creatures or the separation from that same God of love. Why would any choose hell?

I ask of those who would make such a claim: why would the child not come back to the table? Why would the friend remain in prideful self-righteousness even when an offer of reconciliation is given and the illogical and self-defeating nature of their position is revealed?

No offer to a being capable of freely choosing can be said to be irresistible. Further, the deeper we are in our own sense of self, the more difficult it is to even understand what is being offered--let alone to accept it.

As Rob Bell wrote is his controversial book, "Love Wins":God gives us what we want, and if that's hell, we can have it.
We have that kind of freedom, that kind of choice. We are that free.
We are free to reject God's offer as many times as he makes it. We are free to remain indignant and unrepentant.

I previously quoted C.S. Lewis as writing, "I willingly believe that the damned are, in some sense, successful, rebels to the end; that the gates of hell are locked from the inside." We can choose to flee from God, to slap away the hand of love extended to us. And why should we suppose that some will not do so? Why should we think that no one would rather "reign in hell than serve in heaven"?

Just because God doesn't draw the line in the sand at the moment of our death, we cannot assume that no one will flee from the table of the great feast God has prepared and seek isolation from God and anything He stands for. That's one of the lessons that we often overlook in the parable of the Prodigal Son. At the end of the parable, the older brother flatly refuses to be a part of the celebration and stands outside the gates indignantly.

Sometimes the offended child refuses to come back to the dinner table.
Sometimes the offended friend refuses to be reconciled.

Sometimes, people choose hell.

Some people hate God so much that they would do anything--go anywhere--if it just means they do not have to give up their pride. So they run away. Even knowing that the deprivation of God is a complete deprivation of joy, they run to the only "place" where God is not: hell. And they lock the gates from the inside, hoping desperately that God doesn't bother them anymore.

Perhaps there is a point--as Lewis suggested--that these people are finally successful. Perhaps there is a final hardening of the heart that not even the fierceness of God's blazing love can melt. In that case, love has no option left to it. Love would not ever give up until such an impasse was reached, though. It would descend even into the burning depths of the hottest hell if there were even a chance that the beloved could be saved. If it would not, it is not love at all. Rather, it is a frail image of the actual love that never says die.

So, on the one hand, I can enter hell willfully--of my own accord. I can choose hell in hopes of isolation from God that my pride and self-righteousness and indignation need not be quenched. What if I don't go of my own accord, though? What if God sends me to hell? What if Christ says to me, "Depart from me, you evildoer!" as he indicated he would say to some?

Does this represent the end of God's love? Is there any hope remaining?

The answer to those questions, it turns out, is in the reason God would ever do such a thing in the first place. To understand that reason, we have to look back to a topic we've already covered.

[To Be Continued]

hell, xtian, heaven, commentary

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