Why I Don't Care About Heaven and Hell

The notion of Hell is theologically troubling for lots of reasons. At the surface, it basically asks you to accept one of two things: Either we have an omnibenevolent God who has created billions of people over history for the express purpose of delivering them to eternal torment, or we have an omnipotent God whose greatest will -- that all should come to know and love him -- can be thwarted by mere mortals. This conundrum has probably turned more people away from faith (in the traditional understanding) than just about anything else; and it has led plenty of theologians to attempt to find new and creative ways of eliminating the issue, virtually all of which also fall on their faces at some point.

Several weeks ago, certain circles of the internet were agog in news that Rob Bell, pastor of Mars Hill, one of the most prominent mega churches in the country, was publishing a book, Love Wins. In particular, the hullabaloo was related to the book's description, which suggested an endorsement of Universalism (the notion that everybody is granted eternal Salvation). I haven't read the book, and I highly doubt I will, but based on what I've read since its release, it sounds as though it's largely laying out what I was introduced to in my Calvin College philosophy studies as The Doctrine of Second Chances.

Essentially, this doctrine turns Hell into a sort of Hell-Purgatory mash-up from which suffering souls can repent, accept Christ, and be granted entry into Heaven. There are lots of obvious theological problems with this idea -- the fact that it stands in direct contradiction to scripture for one (the parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man, most notably). It also seems to stand in direct opposition to the traditional definition of Hell -- a place of complete absence from God. It would seem that, without the presence of God, one could not recognize His Goodness.

This is all well and good, but it doesn't seem to be what most people are up in arms about. I'm sure that a man as respected as Bell knows all of these complaints and others perfectly well and has found clever ways of interpreting scripture that try to sidestep them. Instead, I see way too many people who are opposed to Universalism not because of Theological reasons but because it makes them ask the following questions: If everybody goes to Heaven, what's the purpose of being Christian? If there is no eternal punishment, why am I trying to be good now?

This sort of thinking just makes me sad. It suggests that being "good" is some how onerous. That it would be better if we could all just be selfish and greedy and follow our basest instincts. It endorses the view of life as some sort of balancing act in which we want our good deeds to outweigh our bad deeds by a wide enough margin that we will be let into heaven. By this view, not only can we "earn" Salvation -- one of the fundamental ideas against which Protestants rallied in the Reformation -- it suggests that we can somehow put God in our debt, an absolutely ludicrous notion. More important, though, this line of thinking denies fundamental truths that we attest to: That we were created good and to be good. That sin is an aberration that we are meant not just to avoid but to despise. That true joy and peace rest in returning to some semblance of Communion with God.

If we embrace these truths, the question of "Why be a Christian now?" becomes an easy one, even in the face of Universalism. Because God first loved us and we are called to reciprocate that Love. Because every additional moment we spend in even limited awareness of God's Grace is a moment of greater joy than we can find in any other way. Because now is when we are amidst creation and able to help take a stand against the evils that have tainted it. Because it is what we were created to be.

If you call yourself a Christian and spend your time worrying about where people are going to spend eternity at a level that goes beyond the academic, please, take a moment to think about how you're living your life. Odds are it isn't particularly Biblical and you might want to re-examine where you're going by your own standards. Stop worrying about your "reward" for all the suffering you're putting yourself through by trying to be good because, if you're doing it right, the work -- hard as it can be -- is its own reward.

Lessons Slowly Learned

I struggle a lot with guilt. I try my best not to rationalize my decisions or hide from their consequences, but I'm not always good at doing this in a healthy way. I obsess over trying to be better, trying to be the person I'm supposed to be. I get hung up on penitence, unwilling to forgive myself until I'm convinced that all blemishes of my wrong-doing have been rectified (an impossible task).

Not very long ago, I spent upwards of two years of my life feeling such a persistent and crushing guilt over my inability to do this sufficiently that it nearly broke me. Then, one day last summer, when everything was at its apex and I was feeling especially horrible and worthless, somebody I respected gave me a hug and told me that I was a good man. I felt true absolution for the first time in my life and spent the next 48 hours spontaneously coming close to tears as I dealt with what that meant:

I cannot make myself better. On my own, I am incapable of being good. The same holds for you. What we can do is this singular good thing: take our focus off of ourselves and let God's Grace take root. Through that Grace, we are allowed to do all manner of good, but it is not something that can come when our concern rests on ourselves. Freedom from guilt and from fear comes only from ignoring our pride and our insecurities and being servants to one another. That this is something we can do no matter how sinful and hideous we may feel, as I apparently did that day last summer, is a testament to God's goodness and Love.

Love, like Grace, is not something we earn. It is something we are allowed and given in spite of ourselves. It is utterly inhuman, embracing faults and failings, freeing us to move beyond them instead of demanding retribution or justification. We are free to give it because it has been given to us, but it is not something that we can seek. The very idea of seeking Love is absurd. The act requires us to be so focused on ourselves that we necessarily lose our fleeting sight of what Love is.

I forget all of this, though. I allow my insecurities and my guilt to get the best of me and restore my focus to myself and my wants. I consistently fall into the trap of thinking that salvation and redemption are about me. That whatever good God allows me is for my sake and my glory rather than to glorify Him and His plan. I return to the belief that my ultimate goal is to be able to do good without Grace instead of being more immediately receptive to it. Hypocritically, I think that even though I can somehow find the ability to love my friends, fallen and fallible as they are, I am incapable of being loved unless I am something approaching perfect.

When this happens to any of us, all we are capable of spreading is hurt. As such, I have realized that, next time I allow myself to be overly caught up in my own desires and insecurities and, in doing so, bring stress and pain on those close to me, I will not to turn it into an issue of my own inadequacy. I will, instead, use it as a reminder that I cannot be so important to myself. That it is only in properly Loving that I can recognize the Love that God and others have for me.

Academia Redux

After my post on Academia a couple of weeks ago, frustrations compounded to the point that I was within inches of calling grad school quits after this semester. Fortunately, I've got level-headed people around to talk with, and I came to the conclusion that some of my apathy and irritation are likely springing from not having made a solid enough effort to find passion in my work.

Over the coming weeks, I'm going to make a much more serious effort to do the work I need to be doing for my research, and that is going to require processing a hell of a lot of information about problems in concurrent computing. Considering I process things almost entirely verbally, writing is a great outlet for this, but I see no reason to bore most of you with this stuff.

So, if you are a strange person who wants to know more about what I'm thinking about my research, I'm starting a new blog, much as I did with my senior project in undergrad. It can be found here, and updates should be commencing (late) tonight with an overview on what I feel to be the essential difficulties with using physical metaphors for shared memory systems and a quick look at where I'll be starting my reading.