Skip to main content

Hell is still hot?

 


Sometimes it's good when people say things we disagree with.

Not always; it can be irritating, frustrating, or wounding. But sometimes it arouses our curiosity, causes us to examine our assumptions, and sets us off on a trail of new discoveries.

So it was when somebody posted this image on Facebook.

 

It says, in emphatic block capitals: We need preachers who preach that hell is still hot, that heaven is still real, that sin is still wrong, that the Bible is God's word, and that Jesus is the only way of salvation.

After my initial reaction of, "We certainly do not!" the curiosity kicked in. What was it about this particular formulation of the Christian faith that I didn't like? If I wouldn't preach that, what would I preach? Given that hell is not a major topic of the Bible, how on earth did we get Christians who think it merits headline billing in the gospel?

What's wrong with it?

Picking something apart is always the easy bit. I partly object to what this meme does say. I don't think that "hell is still hot" should ever, ever, be the first line of a sermon. And although it mentions heaven on the second line, it's only "real" - at best a neutral word, which, sandwiched between a hot hell and wrong sin, comes across as closer to a threat than a promise. 

That repetition of "still" suggests, to me, a reluctance to change, an avoidance of exploration. This is the only truth about God, Jesus is the "only way", and there is no possibility of discussion.

And I partly object to what it doesn't explicitly say. The words it uses suggest a wider context with a set of values which I do not hold. That means my brain tends to fill in the gaps with phrases like: 

  • hell is still hot (and you're going there if you don't believe what we believe)
  • sin is still wrong (especially if it's homosexuality, doubt, or women preaching)
  • the Bible is God's word (which must be interpreted in this particular way, with no deviation)

Of course I realise that the parts in brackets don't necessarily follow from the original statements. The problem is that they often do, so that it's difficult to say the first half without people hearing the second. In fact, I think these kind of statements are often used to say, "This is the type of Christian I am" without spelling out the bits in brackets.

Overall it gives an impression of a God who barely tolerates us, of a preacher who knows he is right and everyone outside his church is wrong, and a religion which leans heavily on the fear of hell.

What would I say instead?

The interesting thing when I started wondering what I would say instead, is that none of my statements were original. I'm not sure I could previously have named my major influences, but once I started thinking, they rapidly popped up.

My first thought, as an antidote to this meme, was "God is nice and he likes you", which is Adrian Plass, of course. His Sacred Diary probably qualifies as classic literature by now, but it's still worth reading.

That seemed a little simplistic, so I expanded a bit: "God is endlessly fascinating, and more generous than you expect". I have to credit Jem Bloomfield for the idea that God is quite interesting - or endlessly fascinating - an idea which I developed in my blog post about why faith is like science. The generosity comes from Rachel Held Evans, who wrote in Faith Unravelled, "Where I expected to find anger [in Isaiah 55], I found tenderness and affection. Where I expected to find a lecture, I found poetry."

Finally, I couldn't resist writing my own statement in the style of the meme.

I dropped the all-caps and went for: Let's be Christians who show that grace is still real, that justice will be done, that sins are forgiven, that God is generous, and that Jesus' way is the way to life.

It's hard to sum up a creed in eight lines; I still feel I could tweak it. There's definitely some Penelope Wilcock influence in there, and echoes of recent homegroup discussions about justice and judgement, partly based on these videos.

And I'm sure others could add some disparaging brackets to my version as well. But if I were preaching, this would be the version I'd preach. Preaching would be easier than living. Most of the disparaging brackets would highlight the fact that I live it extremely poorly.

And the hell thing?

Well, I bought a book!

May be an image of text

It was an interesting summary of the history and geography of hell by someone who doesn't believe in it at all. I'm not entirely sure what I believe about hell; I think the subject is going to need more exploration and another blog post. 

So there we go. Curiosity aroused, assumptions examined, and new discoveries about hell, of all things, to be made.

And "hell is still hot" is my new definition of a bad sermon.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Enthusiasm and cynicism

Some while ago I heard a sermon on the story of Zacchaeus. I forget what the point of the sermon was - usually for this Bible passage it's something about Jesus saving everyone, even the unlikely people. But I remember wondering, did Zacchaeus really give all that money away? Image by Alexa from Pixabay You may remember the tale: Zacchaeus is a corrupt government official who is rather short. When Jesus arrives in town, Zacchaeus wants to get a look at him. So he climbs a tree to see over other people's heads. However, Jesus spots him and tells him to get out of the tree and go cook Jesus some dinner. I assume Jesus phrased it a little more nicely than that, because Zacchaeus is delighted, and moreover, promises to change his entire lifestyle. "Half of my possessions I give to the poor," he declares with the enthusiasm of the instant convert, "and anyone I've defrauded, I'll pay back four times over." The surrounding crowd are the cynics: Jesus, th...

Limestone Way: The Three B's

This walk on the Limestone Way takes me to three villages starting with B: Ballidon, Brassington, and Bradbourne.   Parwich to Brassington The weather forecast says it's fine, but as I walk out of Parwich some light rain starts, which persists for most of the walk. It's not enough to make me properly wet. Parwich sits in a large bowl; the kind of landscape where you can see where you're heading, where you came from, and the next hill you are going to have to climb. The area has been inhabited by humans for thousands of years .  A short climb up a field takes me to Highway Lane, which I follow down again, and then bear left across the fields to Ballidon. I can see the chimney of Ballidon Quarry, and a building which looks like an old chapel. I assume it must now be a private house, but when I get there, I discover that this is All Saints church, now in the care of the Friends of Friendless Churches. What a nice surprise! I'm intrigued by the Creed and Ten Com...

Working on sunshine

Freeeee electricity!  No, seriously.  This guy came and knocked on the door one day, and I don't usually pay any more attention to random strangers trying to sell me something at the door than you probably do, but I guess he must have said "free" enough times to penetrate my consciousness, so I found myself agreeing to have someone check our house's suitability for solar panels.  And another guy turned up, and measured; and another one, and we signed; and a few more, and put up scaffolding and panels and meter boxes and cable; and suddenly, if we're careful, we can avoid paying for any electricity during daylight hours, because it's all generated right up there above our heads. Of course, we have the British government to thank for this, which probably means we're paying for it somewhere along the line.  The Department for Energy and Climate Change (presumably it's actually against climate change rather than for it, although you never know) has...