GigaGuess, the most loving thing I can do for a lost person is tell them the truth. Genuine love cares about people; misleading them into Hell is the epitome of hate, not love.
Dylan, besides the fact that what you're likely doing with this shotgun approach to psychoanalysis is the very thing you condemn me of therein, all I can say is, God help me if my pride ever swells up within myself (and at times, it does; I am a sinful man). As the old hymn writer Isaac Watts put it:
When I survey the wondrous cross on which the Prince of Glory died; my richest gain I count but loss, and pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, save in the death of Christ, my God; all the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to his blood.
See, from his head, his hands, his feet, sorrow and love flow mingled down. Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, or thorns compose so rich a crown.
Were the whole realm of nature mine, that were an offering far too small; love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.
http://www.hymnsite.com/lyrics/umh298.sht