The problem of heaven, hell, and perfection

There is something profoundly wrong with the idea of heaven as a place where people are perfectly content and happy and at peace and singing songs to Jesus while billions of their fellow men and women are being tortured and are in constant pain forever. That’s not my idea of a perfect universe or a perfect final resting place for my soul.

And the callousness it would require to enjoy oneself under those circumstances doesn’t sound like the perfect soul of a saint, but the heart of someone who has lost the capacity for empathy and caring.

I find it rather difficult to think of myself singing praise songs to God as the smoke of the torment of the damned rises up before Him forever and ever.





God: “Quiet down down there! I’m trying to enjoy this song about Me!”

Even a self-exilic hell doesn’t really work, because why would we ever give up on trying to convince them to come in to heaven?

Does that leave a place for judgment? Yes. But the only way the idea of a heaven works is if everyone is eventually reconciled to God and to one another.


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