I’m too anxious for eternity

from here

The God that holds you over the Pit of Hell, much as one holds a Spider, or some loathsome Insect, over the Fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked; his Wrath towards you burns like Fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the Fire; he is of purer Eyes than to bear to have you in his Sight; you are ten thousand Times so abominable in his Eyes as the most hateful venomous Serpent is in ours.

From Johnathan Edwards’
Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God

When I was a girl, I found it difficult to fall asleep. During the day it was relatively easy to ignore the many things that terrified me, but there was no distraction from my mind’s anxious babbling once the lights were out. Could there be a kidnapper hiding in your room right now? my mind would ask, and I’d have to remind myself that I’d found no kidnappers while (somewhat nervously) checking all possible hiding places before climbing into bed. I was 97% sure the answer was no. Maybe a kidnapper could climb through the window, though? it’d wonder, and, even though I’d already checked it, I’d get up and confirm that the window couldn’t possibly open far enough to fit a person through, because the wooden block I’d put there remained firmly wedged in place. “Dear God,” I’d pray, turning to a strategy mum had suggested after (presumably, understandably) tiring of being prodded awake in the middle of the night just so that I wasn’t alone with my fears. “Please don’t let me be kidnapped.”

Calling on God brought some relief; God was big and powerful and could definitely keep kidnappers away, so that was comforting. He lets some kids be kidnapped, though, my mind would chirp. But maybe those kids weren’t Christian kids, I’d reply. Maybe that was the difference: they hadn’t said sorry for the bad stuff they’d done, but I’d said sorry. Repeatedly. God was obviously cranky with me some of the time, maybe even most of the time (He was notoriously difficult to please), but I was fairly sure He wasn’t cranky enough to let me be kidnapped. Not tonight.  

Cool, my mind would say. Cool cool cool. It’d be quiet for some time. Then: Are you still awake? it’d ask. Annelise? Annelise? Are you still awake? 

“What?!” I’d finally say, irritated.

What if you’re not actually on God’s heaven list, and Jesus comes back tonight? What if everyone else in the family’s raptured and it’s only you here in the morning? 

I’d groan. “Stop bringing this up,” I’d say. “I’m pretty sure I’d be fine. If anyone’s getting left behind, it’d be Chris.”

My mind would snort, but then, after a moment, say, Do you think that thought was mean enough to make God angry with you? What if you were going to be raptured tonight, but after having that thought God’s changed His mind and now you’ll miss out and wake up all alone?! 

“Dear God,” I’d pray. “I’m sorry for everything I am and everything I do. Please don’t send me to hell. I really mean it. Help me be nicer to my brother. Amen.” 

That’s good. Great job.

Feeling more at peace, I’d once again prepare for sleep’s arrival.

Heaven would be lovely, my mind would say, and I’d smile to myself, happy to turn to topics more pleasant than abandonment and torture. I wonder if you’ll sleep in heaven?

 

“Maybe?” I’d think in response. “I guess I won’t need to? But then I won’t need to eat, and I think there’ll be banquets… I don’t know. I’ll ask mum in the morning.” 

Yeah, ask mum, my mind would say, and then it’d think for a bit. I guess you’d want to sleep to help pass the time, though, right?

 

“Pass the time? What do you mean?” I’d ask. 

I just mean, what else will you do in heaven? It’s gonna be a reeeeally long time there.

 

“We probably won’t notice the time, though, because we’ll be praising God so much. And eating, maybe.”

Right… but, like, how much time can God-praising take? Seriously. Even if there was God-praising AND eating, that’s still a lot of time to fill! Think about it: how long does church feel for you? Imagine if church was all you did forever, and then you’d get to the end of forever and you wouldn’t even be at the end because you’d have a whole ‘nother forever to go. And then you’d get to the end of that forever and start all over again! It just goes on and on…

“Stop it.” 

…and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on…

“Seriously.”

…and you can never get out of it because it’s eternity. ETERNITY!

My heart would be racing by now. 

Annelise?

“Yep. That’s big.”

It’s SUPER big! Like, think about how many years have passed in your lifetime, and then think about living even just that many years in heaven! And you don’t know if you’ll be able to find your rellies easily, because heaven would be huge, right? So you’d probably be on your own, just praising God all day, and maybe eating and sleeping. FOREVER.

“Huh.”

It’s huge, right? It’s like a lifetime plus another lifetime plus another lifetime…

“Come on!”

… plus another lifetime, just over and over, repeated forever.

 

“It’s a really long time.”

And you’re pretty much trapped there. 

“I really would be trapped, wouldn’t I.”

Yerrrrp. Because you can’t get out once you’re in. It’s just the same thing over and over and over and over an—

“I… oh boy…. I can’t breathe. I’m gonna go wake up mum.”

from here

The punishment must fit the crime. The misery and torment of hell point to the wickedness and seriousness of sin.

Tom Ascol

Each of my three conversions to Christianity was sparked by thoughts of the afterlife. The first time, I was 10 years old. It wasn’t long after my first half-sibling had been born too early, at 19 weeks gestation, and died moments later. After that, I worried about her being in heaven; I’d held her, saying my goodbyes, marvelling at her tiny features. She was far too small to be on her own – who would look after her in heaven? God would have so many babies to take care of, not to mention all the other people that needed His attention. It was clear to me that if I ever wanted to see my little sister again, I needed to make sure God was happy with me when I died/Jesus returned, and that, I knew, meant saying a special prayer and then actually listening in church rather than just looking at the pictures in my Bible and daydreaming. 

I was baptised in a lagoon not long after that (by immersion, the proper way). My school friend – whom I’d invited for evangelistic purposes – kept calling it a christening even though I’d repeatedly reminded her that I wasn’t Catholic (Catholics were so wrong about God! Lol!), so it was actually called a baptism. I wondered if it would get increasingly easier to not be irritated by people now that God would be helping me.

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The second time, I was nearly 15. For reasons that still make no sense to me, I went with a friend to see the film Spawn; the depictions of hell scared the living bejeesus out of me and had me on my knees saying all the special prayers faster than you could say, “It was fiction, love.”

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The third time, I was 21. Once again, I was going through my nightly ritual of preparing for sleep by envisaging the various ways I could die and then imagining what would happen in the moments after I’d shuffled (fallen/been pushed) off this mortal coil. Despite a lifetime in churches and hours upon hours of pondering death and God and heaven and hell, this night was the first time it really clicked for me that Jesus had died so that I didn’t have to go to hell, and that this was actually a very nice thing for him to have done for me – ME, who’d let God down so many times before with all my not-being-super-Christian-after-saying-I-would-be shenanigans. Poor God, having to put up with me, but did He give up? No! Despite his disgust for me and my behaviour, He was still willing to give me a chance. He’d killed Jesus so that He didn’t have to kill me, so that I could avoid being tortured by demons with names like The Violator and instead have a chance at hanging out with my little sister in heaven for eternity. (ETERNITY!!! screamed my mind. “Shut up, Mind,” said I. “God and I are having a nice moment, and I won’t let you ruin it with a panic attack.”) 

This was the conversion that stuck the longest.