I was 22 years old and lived every one of those years my way. No one had more, did more, or enjoyed more laughs and good times than me. I was young, rich with life, and felt so far from eternity. Then, what I never thought could happen to me one night happened. I was 30 miles over the speed limit, the front tire blew, and as the car swerved wildly, something came up in front. I closed my eyes, there was a deafening crash, and when I opened them again, I was in Hell!
As I stood there momentarily stunned, all at once an awesome realization of what had just taken place—where I was—swept through me like a paralyzing chill. I began turning to find the direction I came in; I ran madly to get out, but soon all hope was gone. As I dropped down, exhausted, staring deeply into the unearthly blackness all around me, one thought passed slowly through my mind—all I had ever gained in life as a rebel, as a sinner, was already not worth it.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here since. Never has a place been more real or I more conscious. I feel like I’m at the bottom of a sewer pit of all that is foul and ugly. I choke in the stench of it. Feelings of hopelessness and painful loneliness burn me within, while towering flames burn me without. I have no defense, even courage is momentary; I cower into a little ball, grit my teeth, and never stop crying.
Everything here is so violent. A lifetime of pain is squeezed into every moment—pain beyond the memory of pain—like thousands of knives tearing me to pieces millions of times over.
I’m constantly being pressed beyond my endurance. I haven’t strength for this torment, enough tears for this sorrow, or room in my mind for such grief such gloom. I scream for it to end, but though my mind collapses, my emotions shatter to dust, and my body, imprisoned in these flames, feels like it burns into ashes: they all reassemble to go through it again, and again, and again.
Worms come at me from everywhere. I keep trying to push them into the flames, but nothing kills them, they keep finding their way back to me. If God lifted the roof off this place and let the world look in, the entire human race would get saved in 30 seconds of time. What horrors await them.
My mind inflicts the greatest torture, as it never stops regretting. I would destroy it, but I can’t quiet it even for a moment. It constantly recalls, over and over, every second of my life on Earth. It is so real; I can’t bear to relive it again. I see, as if I were standing there again, the time my neighbor asked me to receive the Saviour and said he would pray with me. As I hopelessly look on, I scream at myself to do as he asked—“Please, fall down on your knees and pray.” But I watch the scorn I had for the Gospel come back at me, as my own proud arguments and rejections are cast into my own face. I turn away, but the vision is everywhere—tracts that I tore, Bibles I left closed, Christians I laughed at all race like a torrent through my mind.
Behind this mirage, the beauty of Christ is forever inscribed on my memory. The Jesus I long to be with, long to love—the Jesus I can never ever have. At His feet, I see the dust of life’s treasures that I chose over Him, that I sold my soul for. How I hate the person I was that put me here.
How could I have been so great a fool, so totally a traitor to myself, living for the moment, laying up nothing for the person I would eternally be, the person I am today?
Ma, where do I start? Dad, if I had only listened to you. I keep praying that you will never come here, that I will never, ever see you again. Oh God, how hopeless I am!
If I could leave this place, I would do everything and anything for Jesus Christ. When I wasn’t praying and crying in tears for the lost souls bound for these flames, I would be spreading the Gospel far and wide. I’d let nothing distract me, nothing stop me. If I could just come back there one more time, how different my life would be. I’d laugh at desire, junk life’s riches, and fear nothing on Earth but displeasing Christ. But this can never be. How hopeless I am!
Sinner, if I could only stand where you are now, with one more opportunity to cry out for God’s mercy and His precious salvation—the same salvation you hate and refuse. If I only had your chances!
How can you be so sure of yourself when there’s nothing between you and Hell but air? How can you sleep when its flames reach to your feet, when its depths hang right beneath you, anxious to swallow you up without a second’s warning for all eternity? How?
You say, “But I’ve got plenty of time. I’m young and healthy, I’ve got big plans for my future.” Future? Who promised you one? God’s not obligated to give you the next breath of air you hope to breathe. Why are you still alive then? Why aren’t you already in Hell? God’s mercy is the answer. The mercy of an angry God Whose patience you’ve tried, Who can take you out of the world a million different ways, permits you to dangle from your string, to live your life way out on the very edge of eternity.
How totally deceived you are. Behind all of life’s thrills, I can see so clearly what you’re so blind to there, the deceiving Serpent, the slithering crawling snake, hiding behind the camouflage of all you crave. I hear his call in the songs, his laughter in the night life, his evil eyes flash at you in the glitter of all you touch. You have one thing he wants more than anything on Earth: your eternal soul. And, piece by piece, you give it to him. In exchange, he gives you cheap thrills and petty trinkets, like someone feeding swill to a pig he’s fattening for slaughter.
Sinner, you’re doomed. Christ reaches out to you and you turn Him away. His blood flows free to cleanse you and you run from it. You are the laughing stock of demons.
“But I’m free,” you say, “my own person,” and they laugh louder because they see the snake who owns you coiling tighter around you, strangling you in bondage, dragging you to the pit. I’ll see you soon.
"A Letter From Hell" by Pastor Chick Salliby
Pastor Chick Salliby, Word and Prayer 17 Comments
[9/8/2018 9:13:36 AM]
Fundie Index: 7
Submitted By: I