Hell is not a popular topic today—not even among Christians. Nobody likes to consider this unsavory—even terrifying—prospect. Death is scary enough in its inevitability. Do we really have to add to it the fear of an eternity of burning damnation—to be the object of torture by demons without any possibility of release? In fact, such beliefs are not only unpopular, they are coming under serious attack. Some believe that religious freedom should be limited to only those beliefs which meet with a general, national consensus as to what is considered psychologically benign and beneficial (which, of course, is no religious freedom at all). In fact, some religious beliefs are considered psychological abuse and are being compared to some of the worst crimes against humanity ever committed. For example, Richard Dawkins, a well-known atheist, speaker and author said:
"Who will say with confidence that sexual abuse is more permanently damaging to children than threatening them with the eternal and unquenchable fires of hell?"
Let me respond with a true story:
Ken, a friend of mine, once told me that although he had grown up as a confirmed atheist and refused to even consider if Christ's life and death had any impact on today's reality, as a child he would often go to bed at night in absolute terror that he might die and go to hell. "What if?" he would ask himself in the dark recesses of his mind. "What if there is something horrible awaiting me after this life?" Ken said he often cried himself to sleep because of this terror that he simply couldn't avoid. When I heard that story (and although this man had long since become a Christian and was secure in his eternity with Christ) I felt such sorrow for that little boy. My heart ached for what he had experienced and my eyes were opened to the pain that so many people—young and old—face on a regular basis. What a horrible way to go to sleep at night! What a horrible thing it is to live in such fear!
Interestingly, though I was raised in a Christian home where the idea of hell was quite prevalent, I never experienced what Ken did. I never worried about going to hell. I never cried myself to sleep over it. I never really gave it much thought. Furthermore, my own children (ages 11, 8 & 5) have not once seemed the least bit concerned about hell. We've talked about it from time to time and they've heard about it at church and the older ones have even encountered it in the Bible, but I've never once been awakened in the night to deal with a nightmare about hell. I've dealt with nightmares about enemies, monsters and hurt feelings, but never have I heard, "Mom, I can't sleep because I'm scared I might die and go to hell." It's simply not something I've dealt with—and here's why: when you know you have been fully forgiven and are completely loved by Jesus Christ, hell has absolutely no power over you. The only people who fear hell are those who aren't secure in their relationship with Jesus Christ. Now, I'm not saying that this lack of security is only found in non-Christian homes or among non-Christians. There are many Christians who simply haven't come to the place in their faiths where they understand what Christ's mercy and grace really is. There may also exist some psychotic parents out there (though I've not personally come across any) who might tell their children horrible lies like, "if you don't obey me, God won't like you anymore and He'll send you to hell." This, in my opinion, would be very akin to child abuse, and Mr. Dawkins would undoubtedly agree. However, I've never heard of such things happening in a Christian home and I've spent my entire life around Christians.
The fact is, the kind of fear we're talking about is not, primarily, a problem Christians struggle with. What the atheists might, therefore, accuse us of, then, is spreading it to their children. Now, I certainly can't blame them for having a problem with this—I would if I were in their shoes; however, due to the nature of our basic disagreement (whether or not God exists and has a beneficial interest in our lives) we may not be able to find much more common ground. Still, let me provide an approximate example:
Let's say my child came home one day in near hysterics over something she had heard at school. "Teacher says that there is a meteorite heading for earth and if we don't get into a bomb shelter quick, we're all going to die!"
"Nonsense!" I tell her, trying to calm her fears—absolutely livid with that monster of a teacher for causing such trauma. "There is no meteorite heading for earth! That's just silly! Look up into the sky. Do you see a meteorite? No? Then, you don't have to worry about it. Run along and play."
Now… that would be fine, except for one small detail. What if there really was a meteorite heading for earth? What if I'd actually already heard about it on news reports and from friends, but had refused to listen? What if I had been offered a secure place in a bomb shelter with some friends, but had vehemently turned them down? Who is the monster now? Obviously, diagnosing "psychological damage" is dependent upon the reasons for its appearance. Some psychological stress is merited; some is not. What we need to determine, then, is this: "Is Hell real?" (See: Is There a Hell?)
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