(And I Might Be Going There)
In late high school and college, I loved to argue against the existence of a literal Hell. I pulled out a few arguments from Rob Bell, Bishop Spong, C.S. Lewis, and others to insist that God was purely love, and if God was purely love, then there was no real Hell. It was metaphorical, perhaps, or a leftover of an apocalyptic viewpoint that made no sense in the 21st century. But since leaving college, I have come to change my view. I think there is a Hell, and more than that, I think I could be going there.
As I rebuilt my faith out of Agnosticism and ministered at my church, I also began reading a great deal of liberation theology, and I realized something that shocked me. My denial of God's justice and holiness was a result of my personal privilege. When I said that everyone, even Hitler or Columbus would be accepted into God's kingdom upon death as easily as a murdered Jew or Taino, I had never wrestled with their actions as someone who had experienced real and systematic oppression. It was easy to subvert God's justice because I did not seriously understand how unjust what people did was. It cheapened God's grace, Christ's work, and the suffering of victims.
As I realized this, I began reading the scriptures, seeing that I already accepted most of the apocalyptic viewpoint of the New Testament. The New Testament consistently uses an oppressor-oppressed paradigm. The Magnificat discusses how God has "cast down the mighty, but lifted up the oppressed. He has filled the poor with goodness, but has sent the rich away empty." Luke 6:17-26 gives blessings to the poor, hungry, mourning and hated, but it gives woes to the rich, feasting, happy, and well liked.
Isolating Matthew 25:31-46 especially, I used this paradigm to argue for Christians to take care of the poor and oppressed, but I did not bother to struggle with the fact that the "goats" in this passage, those who did not treat the "least of these" with compassion, were sent to punishment in fire. I understood this passage as authoritative in some sense and accepted its apocalyptic paradigm, but I used it exclusively for discussions on oppression and social justice. In that moment, I realized that I could not be serious about Christian liberation for the oppressed without restorative justice. And the restorative justice established in Matthew 25 was "the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels."
As I struggled with this, a cold feeling entered my chest. For the first time in years, I had to ask a question. If there is a Hell, am I going there? As I looked at the context of Matthew 25 and its parallel in Luke 12, I realized how condemning this passage was of me. Matthew 25 contains two parables with similar meanings that are both found, in a different form, in Luke 12:35-48. In the first, ten virgins set out to meet their bridegroom, but five of them do not take any oil with them to refill their lamps. Because of this indifference, their light goes out, and when they reach the door of the marriage feast, they are turned away into the darkness. In the second parable, which is also found in another form in Luke 12, a master leaves his slaves with gold to invest while he is away. The slaves who create even more wealth for their master are greatly rewarded, but the slave who does not use the wealth or hedonistically misuses it is thrown out "into the darkness" in Matthew or beaten and "cut into pieces" in Luke.
The problem is, these parables seem to assume that those being rejected are followers of Christ already. Yet, they are being rejected when Christ returns. It is especially clear in Luke 12:46, where the bad servant is assigned "a place with the unbelievers." Even as a believer, he is treated as an unbeliever because of his actions. As verses 47-48 say, everyone who has done wrong will be punished, but those who know what is right and do not do it will be "beaten" most severely.
If I believe that Matthew 25 is authoritative to call us to compassion and liberation of the oppressed, I must believe it is authoritative when it comes to the just punishment of Hell for those who have no compassion. And if I believe that Matthew 25 is authoritative when it comes to these things, I must accept that I, as a follower of Christ, still find myself looking into the fires of Hell. All of my sin sits before me. Every time I choose to apathetically ignore a homeless person, allow lust or wrath to fester, or use my money on my own happiness instead of the alleviation of suffering, am I being a wicked servant? Am I a goat to be placed at Jesus' left side? Will I be "beaten," punished with Hell when Christ returns? Yet, even with this threat of condemnation, I have two hopes. First, 1 John 2:2 reminds me that Christ is the atonement for my sin. If I am to be punished for my sin, it is not the result of God's hatred towards me. God loves me. It is a result of how I have wronged others and myself. God's grace still covers me, and I fully cling to the work of Christ alone for my salvation. The tension between the two is great, but I trust that the God I love will do what is just. Second, Luke 12 does describe that those who do sin may be beaten "with many blows," but that does not mean it lasts forever. The fact that there are understood to be differing lengths of punishment assumes that all punishments end.
Even if I accept that there is a Hell, I have to accept that it is just. God is still going to "reconcile to himself all things" (Colossians 1:20) and install the "restoration of all things." (Acts 3:21) So, maybe, even if Hell does exist, and maybe if those flames never do go out, then maybe it will one day sit empty, a burning reminder that all injustice, all hatred, all exploitation, all mistreatment, all sin, it must end. It must be eradicated. If Hell is real, then God's love is so great, that all injustices must burn.