A Letter From Hell
Dear Mom,
I am writing to you from the most horrible place that I have ever seen, and more horrible than you could ever imagine. It is BLACK here, so DARK that I cannot even see all the souls I am constantly bumping into. I only know they are people like myself from the blood curdling SCREAMS. My voice is gone from my own screaming as I writhe in pain and suffering. I cannot even cry for help anymore, and it is no use anyway, there is no one here that has any compassion at all for my plight.
The PAIN and suffering in this place is absolutely unbearable. It so consumes my every thought, I could not know if there were any other sensation to come upon me. The pain is so severe, it never stops day or night. The turning of days does not appear because of the darkness. What may be nothing more than minutes or even seconds seems like many endless years. The thought of this suffering continuing without end is more than I can bear. My mind is spinning more and more with each passing moment. I feel like a madman, I cannot even think clearly under this load of confusion. I fear I am losing my mind.
The FEAR is just as bad as the pain, maybe even worse. I don’t see how my predicament could be any worse than this, but I am in constant fear that it MIGHT be at any moment. My mouth is parched, and will only become more so. It is so dry that my tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth. I recall that old preacher saying that’s what Jesus Christ endured as he hung on that old rugged cross. There is no relief, not so much as a single drop of water to cool my swollen tongue.
To add even more misery to this place of torment,
I know that I deserve to be here. I am being punished justly for my deeds. The punishment, the pain, the suffering is no worse than I justly deserve, but admitting that now will never ease the anguish that burns eternally in my wretched soul. I hate myself for committing the sins to earn such a horrible fate,
I hate the devil that deceived me so that I would end up in this place. And as much as I know it is an unspeakable wickedness to think such a thing, I hate the very God that sent his only begotten Son to spare me this torment. I can never blame the Christ that suffered and bled and died for me, but I hate him anyway. I cannot even control my feelings that I know to be wicked, wretched and vile. I am more wicked and vile now than I ever was in my earthly existence. Oh, If only I had listened.
Any earthly torment would be far better than this. To die a slow agonizing death from Cancer; To die in a burning building as the victims of the 9-11 terror attacks. Even to be nailed to a cross after being beaten unmercifully like the Son of God; But to choose these over my present state I have no power. I do not have that choice.
I now understand that this torment and suffering
is what Jesus Bore for me. I believe that he suffered, bled and died to pay for my sins, but his suffering was not eternal. After three days he arose in victory over the grave. Oh, I do SO believe, but alas, it is too late. As the old invitation song says that I remember hearing so many times, I am “One Day Too Late”.
We are ALL believers in this terrible place, but our faith amounts to NOTHING. It is too late. The door is shut. The tree has fallen, and here shall it lay. In HELL. Forever lost. No Hope, No Comfort, No Peace, No Joy. There will never be any end to my suffering.
I remember that old preacher as he would read “And the smoke of their torment ascendeth up for ever and ever: And they have no rest day nor night” And that is perhaps the worst thing about this terrible place.
I REMEMBER.
I remember the church services. I remember the invitations. I always thought they were so corny, so stupid, so useless. It seemed I was too “tough” for such things. I see it all different now, Mom, but my change of heart matters nothing at this point. I have lived like a fool, I pretended like a fool, I died like a fool, and now I must suffer the torments and anguish of a fool.
Oh, Mom, how I miss so very much the comforts of home. Never again will I know your tender caress across my fevered brow. No more warm breakfasts or home-cooked meals. Never again will I feel the warmth of the fireplace on a frosty winter’s night. Now the fire engulfs not only this perishing body wracked with pain beyond compare, but the fire of the wrath of an Almighty God consumes my very inner being with an anguish that cannot be properly described in any mortal language.
I long to just stroll through a lush green meadow in the springtime and view the beautiful flowers, stopping to take in the fragrance of their sweet perfume. Instead I am resigned to the burning smell of brimstone, sulphur, and a heat so intense that all other senses simply fail me.
Oh, Mom, as a teenager I always hated having to listen to the fussing and whining of the little babies in church, and even at our house. I thought they were such an inconvenience to me, such an irritation. How I long just to see for a brief moment one of those innocent little faces. But there are no babies in Hell, Mom.
There are no Bibles in Hell, dearest mother. The only scriptures inside the charred walls of the damned are those that ring in my ears hour after hour, moment after miserable moment. They offer no comfort at all, though, and only serve to remind me of what a fool I have been.
Were it not for the futility of them Mom, you might otherwise rejoice to know that there is a never ending prayer meeting here in Hell. No matter, there is no Holy Spirit to intercede on our behalf. The prayers are so empty, so dead. They amount to nothing more than cries for mercy that we all know will never be answered.
Please warn my brothers Mom. I was the eldest, and thought I had to be “cool”. Please tell them that no one in Hell is cool. Please warn all my friends, even my enemies, lest they come also to this place of torment.
As terrible as this place is, Mom, I see that it is not my final destination. As Satan laughs at all of us here, and as multitudes join us continually in this feast of misery, we are constantly reminded that some day in the future, we will all be summoned individually to appear before The Judgment Throne of Almighty God. God will show us our eternal fate written in the books next to all of our wicked works.
We will have no defense, no excuse, and nothing to say except to confess the justice of our damnation before the supreme judge of all the earth. Just before being cast into our final destination of torment, the Lake of Fire, we will have to look upon the face of him who willingly suffered the torments of hell that we might be delivered from them. As we stand there in his holy presence to hear the pronouncement of our damnation, you will be there Mom to see it all. Please forgive me for hanging my head in shame, as I know I will not be able to bear to look upon your face. You will already be conformed into the image of the Saviour, and I know it will be more than I can stand.
I would love to leave this place and join you and so many others I have known for my few short years on earth.
But I know that will never be possible.Since I know I can never escape the torments of the damned, I say with tears, with a sorrow and deep despair that can never be completely described, I never want to see any of you again.
Please don’t ever join me here.
In eternal Anguish,
Your Son / Daughter,
Condemned and Lost Forever