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Apologies to fans of the blog. I have a close family member in the ICU which has required enormous amounts of effort and emotion. Happily, things seem to be resolving positively, (though slowly.)
I'll be returning to my normal level of sin shortly! Maybe even within the week. So, please check back!
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1,000 Reasons I'm Going To Hell is a blog series that explores my life as a non-believer in a believer's world. I'll share stories of everyday interactions with eternal consequences. Whether it's making my mom cry, shocking an unsuspecting nun or staring down a power-hungry pastor, I'll share all my flawed moments for your judgment. You can laugh with me, set me straight or put me on your prayer list. Just, please, don't tell God where to find me.
Reason #3: I Don't Believe In Hell. If I'm to believe those closest to me, things are going to get real uncomfortable for me once I part ways with this ball of dirt we call home. And, truthfully, the idea of permanently turning up the thermostat to temperatures I've only experienced at my grandmother's house doesn't feel like my idea of resting in peace. (If I do go to hell, someone please make sure to drop in a joke about "roasting Paul, may he rest in peas" for me? Going out on the worst joke ever kind of appeals to me.) Frankly, the whole thing just kind of sounds too "Greek mythology" to me. Lakes of fire? Make it rivers, and we're talking 1969 Cleveland here. Uncomfortable, yes. Eternal damnation? Not quite. I've had people try to describe the horror to me, as if a bit of burning flesh imagery makes it more believable. Unfortunately, it's the horrible imagery that represents the biggest problem for me. It creates a disconnect. And, not one that can be easily reset, like the mag-safe connector on my laptop. The same people that tell me that we're all God's children, also tell me that I'm set for an internal life hotter than a ghost pepper roasted on a campfire built inside a crematorium. It just doesn't compute for me. God loves me so much, he knows the decreasing numbers of hairs on my head. (Baldness, there's an argument against a loving God.) Yet, when the time comes, and I'm facing the biggest, warmest moment of my life... he releases me to my free will-induced fate. Seriously? Because I didn't love Him back? I don't have children. But, if I did, I'm certain that at least one of them will tell me how much they hate me. I'm very unlikeable sometimes. More so if I were a parent. You can guarantee I'm taking the iPhone away at least once in their teenage years. Say it happens: "I hate you!" Then, for the sake of our little exercise, let's say things get REALLY ugly. Like, Ted Cruz ugly, and my child runs away. And, for the sake of our exercise, let's say this great-looking, super-smart but obviously misguided child of mine renounces me forever. Am I to think that if I came upon them in grave peril 6 weeks later, that I wouldn't do EVERYTHING in my power to help them? And, not to get too graphic, but remember what we're comparing things to (burning flesh in hell), if someone were pouring gasoline on my child and preparing to light them on fire... would I just let them? You know, because... consequences? See what I mean? You simply can't get from a loving, ALL-POWERFUL God to burning in hell. The two things don't connect. And, if they don't connect... that means either there's no God. Or, there's no hell. (Or, you know... neither God nor hell.) So, MAYBE someday, somebody can convince me there's a God. But, you'll never convince me there's a hell. That said... I'm not so egotistical to think that I can't be wrong. And, if I am... may I rest in peas. |
1,000 Reasons I'm Going To Hell
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