Where, here I go, I want to dive into this with much gentleness.  In the past few months I have been strangly awakened to the thought that most of humanity has and will reject the free gift of eternal life. Most of humanity is currently saying NO! to Christ and all that He has done for us. I do not say this with condemnation. There are mass amounts of people converting from Islam to Christianity. Africa is now at a 60 percentage of people who name the name of Christ. Kenya is 90 PERCENT Christian. Praise belongs to the lamb of God for redeeming these people. Billy Graham and Reinhard Bohnke are just two people who have led masses to the Lord.

The purpose of the case for eternal punishment is to address some presumptions that believers, especially in America, have concerning the nature and purposes of God. I will break these posts down one by one. I am still in the middle of this study as well. Most of this blog has(in the last 2 years) been a place for the poet in me. I will continue that. But I also have a very sharp conviction that I am a proclaimer of the Gospel. Understanding Hell is paramount to understanding the Gospel. I want to turn this into a discussion as well. Please comment and give me your thoughts.

Hell’s Ruckus: When people think of the idea that God would subject human beings to a place that is so horrific and beyond comprehension as Hell they( and I as well) are offended emotionally. Meaning, we do not like to say that Hell is eternal and people will go there. We cannot grasp this idea because in our emotions we find it offensive.

A guy like Clark Pinnock( a respected evangelical theologian) who is still alive today and has been very prolific in his writings says, “ Well, emotionally, I find the concept (hell) intolerable and do not understand how people can live with it without either cauterizing their feelings or cracking under the strain.”

The problem with our emotions is that they are just as fallen as our thinking. We are disturbed because we lack understanding at the heart level. They coincide with each other. I will exppound more on Pinnock because he has many things to say against eternal punishment. He is a good example of one who has been led more by emotions than by truth.

To conclude: our emotions do not change what is true, rather, truth changes our emotions. Understanding the veracity of Hell is very poignant but we can only get this understanding by the working of Christ revealing His character and nature to us.

More to come………….

Temporal

Plain white shoes

For 10 dollars,

Dirtied by ashes

From the fire pit

To fit all our

Compromises

And empty

Promises

An unbuttoned

Shirt in need of

Buttons of

Somethings

To put in back

Together, holes

In pant legs,

Tears from

Jet lag, red

Eye flights

All nights have

Been sabbatical

And radical

And stinginess

Is my righteousness

A penny more

To donate to

The rate it costs

To hide blankets

And clothes

Unnecassary

It is ordinary

For those around

Me to live for

The temporary

It is my story

That I poke

Eternity and

Pull it down

To my dirty

Shoes and

Unbuttoned

Shirts and scars

From dirt fields

And knives that

Pierce the rags I

Wear, it isn’t

Better here, the

Place of the

Temporal,

Let all these

Things burn,

Let us yearn

For the eternal

Som more Colorado nostalgia.

First Sight

10 Feet away I

Saw a white

Fence sprinkled

With teeny flakes

Of snow crystals

And pistols loaded

Would release

Five years of

An untold life

I sat back and

Listened to

The rack of

Memories

Stacked from

The past, I heard

It within me that

This is the man I

Want to be, starting

A family, living

With good company

Gathered around

The end-time story,

The fence stayed

Further then at

First sight, the light

Was bright upon

My face, the steam

Rose and took my

Place I heard two

Friends talk about

Dinners and movies

And their wives at

The mall, handling

The stall, piling

Clothes upon clothes

I floated with the mist

And forgot all of this

I rose to the thunder

And lightning around

The throne, I drowned

And drained the

Spa, I got taken and

Saw what I’ve always

Wanted to see, a place

Very far from me, a place

With no fences to

Protect me, a place

Out of the temporal

Conversations that

Made up mountain

Invasions

The Four Step Curse

Thursday and grey

Was the sky, it turned

To night as we woke

Up, Zack had to throw

Up and enter the disarray

Of where we all stayed

Flipped upside down

Pillows and couches

And lounge like

Dinner tables

Everything was

More real than fables

Maybe robbed, maybe

A prank we simply

Did think, but who

Would do such a thing?

Who would trick us

Like a game? The cops

Came, did their thing,

But we prayed like

Watchmen in every

Corner of our house

We trapped every

Mouse that stood

In the way, we concluded

That witches came,

We heard of the four

Step curse, slashed tires

Black cat fires,

Upside down was

An inch away from

A blood display

On every mirror

We would later

Look into as

We dug a fire pit

Piled the compromises

Hidden in shelves

And under the bed

Let Jacob do the

Digging he’s from

Texas, and then came

The text message

Kyle pranked us,

Sank us, worried

Us and still we

Threw away in

The fire whatever

Did inspire us to

Live far from Him,

The flames engulfed

The plastic tapes

Of eight years of

Endless babble,

Vinyl records and

Literature, no fire

Extinguisher just

The four step curse

That was not real

But what a steal

That we would

Now have a funny

Story to tell

Friction Fiction

Rubbing palms against palms

Over reading the Psalms

Raising my alms to more

Than ten percent I bear the

Hint of His voice, the fiction

Of the world, the friction in

His diction, my palms turn

Black from the epidermis

Thermos rising to 90 degrees

The heat keeps me awake

Like all of it is at stake and

For the sake of the world I

Embrace the friction from

Sitting in His presence

It is no fiction to hear

His direction, it is distinction

Away for the veil is torn,

It is about His glory and the

Temporal shoes I buy to

Walk me through the

Fiction on shelves at

Discounted prices,

They are vices

To eternity

For when we

Get that our

Friction turns

To Him, our

Fiction becomes

True

Make Us

Like the smooth stream

Of walking escalators

At DIA, the terminal

As I drop my bag from

Baggage claim I walk

The stairs instead of

Escalating expectations

I travel back and forth

Between north and south

Poles for many are always

Wanting a way out,

Stairs worth the workout

Versus the pain of

Walking about for

Him to shout, some

Might need elevator

Shafts to crash and

Burn them to the

Ground, whatever

Will make us

Bleed shall cause

Us to succeed

Dream Team

The tweet machine

The dream team

On Harmony and

Melody it seemed

To be easy to float

Above the sky

And pay a dollar

For an apple pie

The first Lacrosse

Game and first burger

Flip days, the first ways

The crew invented and

Prevented would be the

World beneath us as we

Walked tall in a city this

Tall in a city this small,

The hot tub was always

A grub of information

About each situation

That we ended up in

Scrubbing

From scrubbing the grime on

The rim of the toilet and the

Girt circumference of dirt

I see Christ holding

My hands teaching me

His commands to lay

It down and bear the

Crown of

Servant hood I’ve

Written the memories

Of Northern Colorado

As a shadow of the past,

Days of blast dun sun

Dried lips in

Needs of chap stick

My first kiss

Hockey stick,

The first kiss

And dismiss from

Mr. Gundaker,

Sit in the corner

He can’t handle

A complainer

Scrubbing clean the bleach

Spots on dress shirts and

Chris’s brown floor I want

More than the average

Savage that wants immediate

Success, I want the glory

To pervade my story

Scrubbing my conscious clean

And the only man to

Redeem I choose His

Team, his ever after

45  Seconds

Waiting ln line for

Fast food meal #9

Extra large with a

Supersized beverage

Zero leverage for my

Intestines, crispy bacon

Smashed between sourdough

Bread with freckles and pickles

And onions galore, who could ask

For more? The crowd behind me

Would lean on me to finish ordering

As they are frying the outsides of

Sugar fries smothered salt, its all

Of our fault that rushing is our

Addiction,  that sedated aroma

Of getting it all right away like

Clay we’re molded not to wait

In each and every state, its

Plain on a grease stained plate

We expect God to heal us,

Help us, invade us in 45 seconds’

For faster says the manager

We can’t be giving the world

More time and humbly I dine

At His table, it may take

More than 45 seconds

For Him to impede upon

My life

The Generation Syndrome

As the mustard seed
Is needed to make
Our faith grow
In succession
As the economy is
Recession
I learn a new lesson
He wants the generations
When I know I can’t
Take up the mantle
Of the sample DNA
To walk in his way,
My faith in His way,
My faith is barley a
Sunflower seed
My heart in need
Tire and tire mark
On the road rarely
To a new job that
Would bring success
I still recess the
Situation that the
Young man at
Fourteen needs
My spleen,
The fifteen to
Eighteen need
Me to bleed
Clean for them
That my preaching
Is not in vain
Its for a worldwide
Gain of life and
Laughter and
Possible disaster
But to save
The kids that
That have more
Boldness
Than I’ve ever had
I am not sad nor grieved
I am received as a leader
I am the syndrome
That they run to