I don’t believe in Hell. There, I said it. It’s off my chest and out of my system. Wrapped up and ready to meet its friend “Guilt” who’s already inside the box of junk.
This is a big confession.
For so long I believed that to follow Jesus means to believe in hell as place where the lost, the wretched and the damned go. That, so I thought is the starting place of faith. To believe in Jesus is to admit that you are lost and in dire need of some form of saving. If your time runs out before you came to this realization, well, then the Devil and the rest of gang will be waiting for you on the other side. Needless to say, it left me scared shitless.
But fear does not lead to faith. It only leads to superstition and forced religiosity.
Tonight, while grinding coffee beans, it came to me. I don’t believe in hell, because that’s not where I’m heading. It’s not part of my reality. My faith does not depend on the belief in the Devil or the Hell as place where sinners go when they die.
No, I choose life before death. The abundant kind Jesus spoke about. That is where I am going to start looking for God.
What a way to end the week. The box is getting heavy, I must admit. For a moment I thought of taking it out and putting it back, but then I thought: “To hell with it, I am throwing it out!”