HELL-O

Thoughts About Hell

Finally giving thoughts to a question that was asked in the inaugural edition of the Mailbag. So here we go:

What are your thoughts on hell?
That’s a great question.
I have somewhat of an answer. An answer that’ll… either leave you with more questions or maybe make you feel like I wasted your time.
(Also, I discovered how to put footnotes on substack. I’m sorry¹ in advance. Especially to those of you who are reading this via email).

But.
Have you ever met a Christian who seems to believe more in hell than in Jesus?
Like… they need hell to exist.
Like their whole theology collapses if eternal conscious torment isn’t real.
Like heaven is Plan A, but hell is the insurance policy keeping everyone else in line.
I’m certain you know someone like this.
Or maybe, you’ve been someone like this².

I don’t think that ever sat right with me.
Because all the chatter about hell is for one purpose: to instill fear into us.
And if the fear of hell is the engine of your faith… then you’re not actually following Jesus. You’re just trying not to get caught. And that’s not discipleship, it’s more like spiritual risk management. It’s life lived on probation with God as your parole officer.

This is why, about a decade ago, I stopped preaching and teaching about heaven and hell. Not because I stopped believing in an afterlife, but because the obsession produced more fear than freedom, more shame than love, more control than grace³.
And fear makes lousy disciples. Shame can’t heal anyone. Control doesn’t grow love. If anything, it suffocates it.

That’s what happens when we turn the gospel into a cosmic transaction. Heaven becomes the prize for people who prayed the right prayer, believed the right doctrine, or died with the right stamp on their spiritual passport. Hell becomes the scarecrow guarding the field of fragile theology—an eternal threat waiting to be deployed whenever questions get too uncomfortable.
Believe this, or else.
Act like us, or else.
Vote this way, or else.

And that’s how the good news gets warped into bad news.
Faith becomes fear disguised as reverence, obedience wrapped in threats, worship reduced to appeasement. If you strip it down, it’s less about following Jesus and more about fire insurance.
Less about love and more about fear management.
Less about transformation and more about not screwing up.

Tony Campolo once asked, “Would you still follow Jesus if there were no heaven?” That question messed me up. Because if the answer is no, then we’ve got to admit something ugly: we don’t love Jesus—we love his benefits package. It’s like marrying someone for their money. You don’t actually want them, you just want what comes with them.
That’s not a relationship. That’s a contract.

And that question echoes an even older one. In Job 1, the satan—more like heaven’s prosecuting attorney than a red devil with horns—asks God, “Does Job fear God for nothing? Haven’t you protected him? Blessed him?” Translation: of course Job is faithful. Look what he’s getting out of it. Strip away the perks, and let’s see what he really believes. Job loses everything. And the haunting question becomes: would you still love God when there’s nothing in it for you? Would you still trust Jesus without the guarantee of a reward? Or is this whole thing just eternal bribery dressed up as faith?

This is where the conversation about hell always brings me back: to motivation. If we’re only here to dodge hell or secure heaven, we’re not really here for Jesus. We’re here for ourselves⁴.