Thursday, June 15, 2006


I was laying on the couch with my youngest son, Lane, the other day when we flipped it over to a documentary on hell. We had been watching it for a few minutes when he turned to me and said, "Do you believe in Hell? I don't."
This one sentence sent a rush of questions through my brain. When did he get old enough to think about hell, he's my baby? What is the right answer to that? What else have I been missing out on if I didn't even realize we could be having this conversation? After what was probably too long of a pause I answered him honestly. "No, I don't believe in Hell either."
I am a Christian, but the idea of Hell has always seemed out of synch with a loving God. It does seem in synch with a church bent on controlling its followers. I've quit trying to be logical about it and trying to make my beliefs meld with everything I've been taught. I believe what my senses tell me to believe. I feel more spiritual in my yard then inside of a church. I believe god is all around us, loving instead of condemning. Jesus wasn't a fire an brimstone preacher. He never pushed himself on others. He led, they followed. Maybe the fundamentalists need to reread the red parts of their bible. I think I've been preachy enough for one day, I'll step off my soap box now.

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