How Can You Believe in a God Who Sends People to Hell?

I want to start off with a question of my own as we jump into this big, tough issue:

Why is a belief in hell—an eternity of horrendous torture mandated by God—the litmus test for true Christianity?

I was born into and raised in the Church. And like the overwhelming majority of Christians, I believed in heaven and hell: That those who believe in Jesus, no matter what kind of people they are, will go to heaven; and that those who reject Jesus, no matter what kind of people they are, will fry in hell.

Admittedly, it seemed to make sense. God, in Jesus, has made it possible for us to live in relationship with God. That relationship is one of grace and forgiveness. If we choose to reject that overture of love we’ll live with the consequences—forever.

But as I began to wrestle with my understanding of the character of God, I realized that my starting point was wrong. I recognized that the starting point for God’s character is not that of an angry judge but that of a radically gracious parent. And if that’s the true character of God, the issue of hell becomes increasingly problematic. If God truly is lavishly and recklessly gracious, then how can that same God be capable of creating such a horrific eternity for those who might reject that grace?

For a while I tried to say that hell is, in essence, an act of love. Love forced is not love but abuse. A loving God will not force God’s self on us. If we chose to reject God’s act of love in Jesus, God will love us enough to respect that choice. God, out of love, would not want to force us to spend eternity with him.

But still… it didn’t answer all the questions:

• Is my rejection of God’s love stronger than God’s love for me?

• Does my free will usurp God’s grace?

• Will the God who goes to the cross for us finally give up on us?

• Is God’s grace bound by human time and space?

Or, as my friend, the late BJ Thomas, put it in one of his songs: I wonder why the pure in heart… they have to have a judgment day. I wonder what the Lord has made… that he plans to throw away.

 One blog post will not solve the problem of hell.

 But I want to suggest a starting point by going back to the story of the Prodigal Son which I referred to in another post.

 The Context: Jesus is caught red handed in the act of eating with the wrong kinds of people: sinners and tax collectors—those the religious leaders had written off because they believed God had written them off. No self-respecting Jewish Rabbi would debase himself in such a way. By eating with these people Jesus was in essence treating them as friends and equals. And in the process, ceremonially defiling himself. In response to criticism from the religious elite, Jesus tells the story of a father of radical, reckless grace.

 A quick summary:

1)    The younger son asks for his father for his inheritance early bringing shame onto the father, his family, and his village. Strike one.

2)    The younger son takes his money to a non-Jewish (unclean) land and wastes it all there on wild living. Strike two.

3)    The younger son ends up feeding pigs (unclean animals) for a gentile (an unclean person) in order to survive. Strike three.

Culturally, this younger son has gone beyond the point of no return. He is now considered dead to the village and his family with no way of redemption. Story over!

A major point: When the son decides to head home, he does not go home, as we often assume, repentant. He goes home defiant. He goes home with a scheme in place to manipulate his dad. He wants his dad to hire him in the hope that he can work off his debt, weasel himself back into the family, and receive his inheritance all over again when dad dies. This young man is still dead! He still rejects his dad’s love.

What does this have to do with hell?

Should the villagers catch the son walking into the village they will beat him up and banish him (to hell) from the community once and for all.

But notice what the dad does. And remember, this son is defiant. This son still rejects his father’s love!

The father (representing God) runs to this son who deserves only punishment and condemnation—and rescues him with grace.

• He throws his arms around his son to protect him from the mob.

• He puts the family robe around his shoulders.

• He puts the ring of sonship on his finger.

• He puts shoes on his feet.

• Then he throws a party for him!

All this for a son who, to that point, has rejected his father’s love!

As the father says to the older brother later: This son of mine was lost, but I found him. He was dead. But I made him alive again.

The grace of the father proved stronger than the rejection by his son.

The picture Jesus paints of God in this story is not one of a God who condemns people to hell but who runs to hell-condemned people and graces them with life. God runs to dead people—people who can neither reject or accept love—and raises them to life!

Theologian Jurgen Moltmann says it this way: According to this Christian view, neither God nor human beings decide about hell, but Christ alone: ‘I died, and behold I am alive for evermore, and I have the keys of death and hell’ (Rev. 1:18). What is Christ going to do with ‘the keys of hell’? ‘Christ hath burst the gates of hell,’ says Charles Wesley in his Easter hymn. So all its gates are open. Hell is no longer inescapable…  (In the End, the Beginning—the Life of Hope. 2004)

Or as John says it in his Gospel: For God did not send his son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved. (John 3:16)

Does God send people to hell?

The Cross says:  For God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them. (2 Corinthians 5:19)

The Cross says:

You were lost but God found you.

You were dead but God through Christ raised you to life.

You are the one clothed in the robes of grace.

You are the one wearing the ring of sonship/daughterhood.

You are the one wearing the shoes of forgiveness.

Because God’s grace will always have the final word…

And that word is life.

More next time.

You can reach me at Tim@TimWrightMinistries.org

The Trouble with God. Part 2

The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider, or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked: his wrath towards you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire; he is of purer eyes than to bear to have you in his sight; you are ten thousand times more abominable in his eyes, than the most hateful venomous serpent is in ours. You have offended him infinitely more than ever a stubborn rebel did his prince; and yet it is nothing but his hand that holds you from falling into the fire every moment. It is to be ascribed to nothing else, that you did not go to hell the last night; that you were suffered to awake again in this world, after you closed your eyes to sleep. And there is no other reason to be given, why you have not dropped into hell since you arose in the morning, but that God’s hand has held you up. There is no other reason to be given why you have not gone to hell, since you have sat here in the house of God, provoking his pure eyes by your sinful wicked manner of attending his solemn worship. Yea, there is nothing else that is to be given as a reason why you do not this very moment drop down into hell. –Jonathan Edwards, Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God. July 8, 1741.

Wow. Just… Wow!

Unfortunately, that’s the god far too many people think of when they think about the Christian God. Because, unfortunately, far too many Christians think that that’s what God is like.

No wonder so many leave the faith. No wonder so many don’t even look into Christianity.

In the last post I suggested that Jesus paints a very different picture of God. We looked at the first part of Jesus’ iconic story of the Father and his Two Sons in Luke 15.

In part one we saw, in the father’s response to his rebellious younger son, that God is a God who, contrary to Jonathan Edwards, doesn’t abhor us, but loves us. God is not a God whose wrath burns against us but who runs to us always and only out of reckless, lavish, irresistible grace and love.

In part two Jesus reaffirms that view of God in the father’s response to the self-righteous older brother.

Full disclosure:

I’ve been a first born for 63 years (I was born in December of 1957 so depending on when you read this you may need to add a year or two!). According to Birth Order Theory first advanced by Alfred Adler in Vienna in the early 1900’s—and later popularized in the 1980’s by Dr. Kevin Lehman—I was born into rarified air.

For example, first borns tend to have higher IQ’s than their younger siblings (just ask my brothers and sisters!).

A few tweets from first borns provides some insights into the first borns club:

Being the oldest child is a compliment. Think about it, your parents decided you were amazing and wanted more of you.

My nine-year-old just referred to her brothers as her “sequels.”

First borns get sonnets like, “He likes to eat peaches and avocados, he loves to laugh, bath time is his jam, he keeps Mom and Dad up at night but we love him” and the second born gets, “It’s been ten months. Love this guy!”

What explains this first born specialness? We were the first born. We’re the ones parents raised by the book. The ones parents obsessed over to get us right. First borns are typically raised with lots of rules. They are fawned over… until the next sibling comes along! And then first borns have to fend for themselves, having to become responsible for themselves and ultimately their siblings at a young age.

The result: First borns tend to be

• Responsible

• Structured

• Achievers

• Reliable

• Organized

• On-time

• Natural leaders

• Perfectionistic

o   Know-it-alls

o   Bossy

o   Resentful

o   Arrogant

• Um… wait a minute…

Which brings us to the first born in Jesus’ story.

His younger brother, as we saw in the last post, has embarrassed and shamed the family publicly. He asked his dad for his inheritance early, meaning, he wanted his father dead so that he could live it up. The last the first born had heard, his little brother had left the country—and good riddance.

But one day, after a long, hard day working the fields—fields he would one day inherit so he had a vested interest in making sure they produced—he came home to the sound of music and dancing. As the first born he’s supposed to know when parties are being thrown. He’s immediately upset because there’s a village-wide celebration happening at his house without his knowledge. In his mind he’s being dissed.

He asks one of the young neighbor boys, who’s enjoying the party out in the courtyard, what’s going on. The boy tells the amazing story the whole village is now celebrating:

Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.

As was custom, the whole village was waiting for the older son to join the party. Once he walked into the house, they would greet him with cheering and applauds.

But the first born is hacked off and refuses to go into the party. He’s livid that his father would welcome back this son who brought so much humiliation on the dad and on his older brother. Even worse, that his father would throw a party for him

By now the whole village knows he’s outside refusing to come in. The tables have turned. Now it’s the first born humiliating his father, bringing shame on the family name.

Normally dad would send the servants out to lock up the son in a closet or small room until after the party and deal with him then. But this father does something extraordinary. He goes out to the son. In front of all of the guests the father destroys his public reputation to try to reconcile with his son

The older son, once he’s warmed up, let’s his father have it. He humiliates his dad by refusing to address him with the title of Father, instead saying, “Hey, you!”

He complains of how his father has never appreciated him; how he’s worked like the obedient good son but was never even offered a goat to celebrate with his friends, let alone a fatted calf. He’s livid that his father has been so reckless with his forgiveness toward his do-nothing younger brother.

All of the negative traits of first borns explode out of this young man toward his father—publicly.

And the father stands there and takes it! He seemingly stands there impotent against the first born’s tirade.

But once his oldest runs out of steam, the father makes his move. Not the one we’d expect, however.

He doesn’t let loose on his son. He doesn’t send out the servants to lock him up in order to give him a beating later.

Instead, he responds with the compelling power of grace—the same reckless, audacious grace offered to the undeserving younger brother.

The father said to him: My beloved son! You are always with me. All that I have is yours. I’m throwing this party because I’ve given your brother back his life. Now come on in. And let me do the same for you.

What if Jonathan Edwards got it wrong? What if the “older siblings” have it wrong? What if so many Christians have gotten it, and continue to get it, wrong?

And what if Jesus got it right?

This is how God showed his love among us: he sent his one and only son into the world so that we might live through him. (1 John 4:9)

God demonstrates his love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Jesus died for us. (Romans 5:8)

See what great love the Father has lavished on us that we should be called the children of God. And that is what we are. (1 John 3:1)

What if that’s what God is really like?

You can reach me at Tim@TimWrightMinistries.org