Hell Part 1
“Hell” is one of those subjects that many faithful “Bible-believing” Christians really struggle with—they really don’t know what to believe.
No-one wants to be thought of as a Bible “non-believing” Christian, of course! Which makes it easy to be intimidated that we “ought” to believe certain things on certain subjects and not raise any questions or doubts about them (because, we’re told, “The Bible says . . .” or “The Bible clearly teaches . . .”).
Hell is not the only subject in this category, of course. Perhaps you are thinking of some even as you’re reading this.
Those who are uncomfortable with aspects of the traditional view on a subject are generally approaching things from the perspective that it simply “doesn’t feel right.” But that can seem a bit inadequate, a bit “touchy-feely,” when the authority of those phrases—“The Bible says . . .” or “The Bible clearly teaches . . .”—is directed against them.
The “traditional” view broadly says that those who are not “saved” when they die (aka, “don’t know Jesus” personally, or “haven’t prayed the Sinner’s Prayer”) will not go to heaven but to “the other place,” that we call “hell.” Here, they will be tortured and tormented for eternity as the just punishment for their sinful lives, sentenced to that fate by a God of justice—however reluctantly he passes that sentence, given that he is a God of love as well. This is the sad consequence of not receiving the forgiveness that was available to them through the cross before they died. This picture of hell is called “Eternal Conscious Torment,” or “ECT” for short.
The rationale for hell understood this way runs along the following lines. “The Bible says so” is always the starting point for evangelicals, of course; and it’s reckoned to be the case here. In fact, for an evangelical leader, that’s probably the end of the conversation—there’s nothing more to discuss (unless you want to risk jeopardising your club membership). To believe in that kind of a hell is reckoned to be sad, but necessary, biblical truth.
The logic begins with the Greek philosophical idea that the human soul is immortal; hence, upon death, it has to go somewhere. Since heaven is eternity spent in the most wonderful place imaginable, but access is limited to only a relative few (the Christians), the fate of the rest (the non-Christians) must be eternity spent in the most awful place imaginable. Inevitably, given the soul’s immortality, that worst possible experience must go on forever. Mediaeval paintings of hell, and Dante’s Inferno, and the fact that hell is perceived by people in general to be along those lines, all contribute to the assumption that hell is endless agony in the fiery flames.
If anyone is tempted to suggest that this punishment sounds a bit “over-the-top” for all except the Hitlers and Stalins of the world, the conversation cycles back round to “The Bible says so” and adds that God’s justice system is not like our own. We may be soft and sentimental, but he is just and righteous—if he says that eternal conscious torment for all non-Christians in hell is just and fair, we should not argue (which would be true—if that is what he says).
Fear of hell has been used extensively (and effectively) through the centuries as an incentive to become a Christian. It addresses the problem of someone saying, “If there is no hell of that sort, then why would I want to be a Christian?”—which would obviously be very unhelpful, missionally.
In this article, we are not focused on doctrines of the atonement (the question of “how?” Jesus saves us), but it’s easy to see a correlation between penal substitutionary atonement (the standard conservative evangelical way of explaining the “how?”) and eternal conscious torment. Penal substitution says that on the cross Jesus took our punishment, the punishment for our sins that would otherwise be coming our way in the afterlife. I’m not promoting this pairing, just saying that at face value it seems to fit. That Jesus “saved us” from that kind of eternal punishment through his own similar punishment. Hence, anyone having the temerity to question one of those ideas is probably questioning both—placing them in double trouble.
To those remaining unconvinced about eternal conscious torment, its advocates are likely to return to the justice theme: “If you say you don’t believe in hell, then you’re saying that sin doesn’t matter; that Jesus died for nothing; that there should be no judgement; no consequences in the afterlife for human wrongdoing in this life; that God should not be angry about human sin (which he very much is); that when dead souls arrive at the Pearly Gates, St. Peter should just wave everyone through because God is like everyone’s favourite Grandpa—so lovely, he would never say boo to a goose, let alone judge anyone for anything. We may not like it, but this is just how things are.”
We will examine all of these assumptions, but suffice at this point simply to be aware that conservative evangelicals almost invariably conflate “hell” with “eternal conscious torment in the afterlife.” They use the word “hell” as if it “obviously” means—as if it is synonymous with—eternal conscious torment. Hence, to question ECT is to question the very idea of God’s judgement and God’s justice. To question hell is to be soft on sin—to suggest that God should just “let everyone get away with it.” Watch out for this (probably, for the most part, unwitting) conflation of the two. It’s a massive problem in having a sensible conversation.
There is one other aspect that, at least in the background, influences conservative evangelical thinking on hell (and a number of other subjects). It’s felt that traditional Christianity is under attack from “the spirit of the age.” The narrative runs that postmodernity, with its perceived denial of absolute truth, is a tool of hostile spiritual forces seeking to undermine belief in God, in the gospel, and in traditional conservative values within society. Thus, to the extent something has been traditionally believed, without (until very recently) being questioned—which is thought to be suspicious in itself: why “suddenly” now?—we need to see what’s going on beneath the surface, as it were, and circle the wagons around the Bible and the truth. Even if at times that makes us unpopular (in fact, the more unpopular it makes us, the more right we must be). We’re basically talking “spiritual warfare” here—so, people, which side are you on? That’s an intimidating question!
In sum, conservative evangelicals believe they are fighting a war against the ungodly popular culture. Traditional evangelical beliefs, such as hell defined as ECT, the good news of the gospel defined as penal substitution, and several other subjects, are the front line of this culture war. We must not give way on any of the traditional beliefs—lines must be drawn in the sand, for fear of the slippery slope (apologies for the mixed metaphors).
I am not suggesting that these sincerely-felt concerns are entirely misplaced. I am not suggesting that there is not such a thing as spiritual warfare. And I am not suggesting that traditional beliefs should be discarded just because they’re traditional—aka, “out-of-date”—in favour of “anything goes,” or just believing “whatever is true for you.” What I am suggesting is that each aspect of so-called “traditional beliefs” must be looked at on its merits, not least if the subject we’re talking about is something that the vast majority of the population—our target audience for the gospel of Jesus—thinks sounds patently ridiculous.
But why does sounding ridiculous matter, if defending the absolute truth of traditional Christian beliefs and conservative values is our calling and goal? Because, if something that Christians forcefully argue on the basis that “This is biblical truth” comes across as ridiculous to the majority of our unchurched audience, then they are highly likely to question everything else we claim to be “biblical truth”—not least, the gospel of Jesus. We better be sure that it really is “biblical truth.”
Just because a majority of people may question something does not make them right. But it should at least alert us to the need to think about it more deeply. At the very minimum, we need to work harder to make it make sense to people—for them to be able to say, “I get that.” Simply doubling-down on the vehemency of our rhetoric will not be an effective strategy. Not if our goal is to win hearts and minds—and ultimately, of course, souls—rather than just high-five each other for upholding “sound doctrine” however unpopular that has made us (cue Titus 1:9 proof-text, supported by 2 Timothy 4:3).
To be able to think more deeply about this kind of a subject requires us firstly to distinguish between truly essential beliefs (dogma is the technical term) and non-essential, peripheral beliefs (doctrines that go beyond dogma), which are—and should remain—in the category of reasonably-held opinions. Why? Because—to continue the warfare metaphor—we really do need to be sure which beliefs on what subjects are in the category of “a hill to die on” from God’s perspective.
We will look more closely at the ingredients in the standard narrative about hell in Part 2. In the meantime, you might like to watch the video of my talk, “What Do We Believe About Heaven and Hell?” There’s a link on the website. Or, read the chapter on Heaven and Hell in my book, How To Read The Bible Well (again there’s a link on the website).