let's talk about HELL

because I'm tired of worrying about it

Feb 07, 2026

The start of weekly essays on my thoughts about HELL. Say it loud! Let the devil hear it!

I am spiritual. I have believed deeply and devoted myself to learning. I am not a theologian. But I can share a story by weaving through memoir and theology as I understand it to unpack my deconstruction of Hell.

To note: I may quote scripture in a way that I now believe to be a misinterpretation or abuse of it. So you understand how these misquoted scriptures kept certain stories alive in my mind for so long, I may sometimes quote them without disclaimer; that does not mean I still believe in the same way today.

I want to talk about Hell. I say it plainly because I’m surrounded by people who believe in this destination of eternal, conscious torment but don’t like to talk about it, not directly.

If you are in this camp, to function as an accepted member of society, you have to side-eye Hell; pay enough attention to know the flames are real, but have no intention of going there. It is terrifying, and to cope, we push it to the back of our minds. It must be compartmentalised; no one who believes unrepentant sinners are cast into hellfire when they die can hold that truth front and centre all the time. Without compartmentalisation, to be in your right mind is to be the street preacher you swerve because they are intense and a little scary. That preacher’s action flows uninhibited from belief. Their inaction would be a source of shame and crippling anxiety. They are living in line with their reality and acting on the fact that everything is NOT okay!! As an old pastor of mine used to say,

if there were a lion just outside roaming the streets, and you knew about it, but your loved one had no idea and wanted to walk out that door, would you let them go? No! You would beg them, plead them, carry them away from that danger.

The lion is Hell, and compartmentalisation says, “Yes, I know there’s a lion, but there are too many people to tell! What if they don’t believe me/think I’m weird/I feel uncomfortable doing this/the burden is too heavy, sorry, yes, I’m letting people walk out the door and hoping for the best”.

Some might feel this is an oversimplification; we are only human, and God’s ways are not our ways. I don’t disagree with that statement in isolation, but paired with a belief in eternal damnation for those who don’t know Jesus, it becomes a spiritual bypass to smooth over the discomfort. Because it is uncomfortable.

Let’s start where I began.

Fire Church understood there to be a metaphorical behavioural line that, when crossed, was the tipping point into hell.

I’ve been a member of many Christian denominations, the common thread being that they were all Evangelical. Evangelicalism is a global, interdenominational Protestant movement emphasising the authority of the Bible; the necessity of personal conversion (to be “born again” and “saved”); belief in the central sacrifice of Christ; and active evangelism. I spent my teens in a Pentecostal Evangelical church, but I didn’t understand this to be “evangelical Christianity”; I thought it was Christianity full stop. I was taught there was no other way to be a Christian; in fact, anyone doing it differently was missing the mark and wasn’t really saved. Catholicism? Forget about it. The way is narrow.

This belief and the lion analogy were gifted to me by the lead pastor of a very specific church I attended in those formative years. This church is not the standard. Besides it being chronologically correct, I start here because this church is an extreme; some might say cult-like, and I might strongly agree. But when it came to believing in hell as a place of torment that people need saving from, they took the job very seriously.

Let’s call this church Fire Church. Fire Church was so convinced by Hell that we spent every weekend evangelising1 our local area, or getting a minibus to surrounding towns to hand out flyers and host a concert in the evening. These are fond memories; I was part of a community, got to write and sing original music, and there was nothing like showing up at a new location, spending a single day getting the word out and having people actually show up in the evening to give their lives to Jesus. I felt like a pious, touring rockstar, and it made it easy to live in line with our values because we did not go light on the “fact” of Hell.

We were the intense, scary street preachers! Well, ‘We’ being inaccurate because I never did it. No matter how saved I felt, being the intense preacher was embarrassing. The opening gambit of the more zealous saints was often, “IF YOU WERE TO DIE TODAY, WHERE WOULD YOU GO, HEAVEN OR HELL?” (capslock for SCREAMINGGG it at people) Or, if they had a little more tact, that question would be slid in at the start of a yes/no test of the subject’s morality:

Have you ever lied? Stolen? Disobeyed your parents? Well, based on those results, you are, unfortunately, destined for hell :(

Unless…

Let me rephrase: these are fond, and highly compartmentalised, memories. I was drawn into this church using the latter, slicker, quiz technique, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it to other people.

Every non-Christian was a mission field, and if you weren’t influencing them, they were influencing you.

My parents are Christians from different denominations, so I had a wealth of varying theologies in my upbringing to smooth the edges of this cut-and-dry offering from Fire Church. I was okay saying yes to the bits I loved whilst secretly disagreeing with the other half of their teaching.

I didn’t agree with telling people they were going to hell to bring them to faith. I did, however, totally believe in punishment in this life and the next. I had this sense I was being watched and my actions, judged. I didn’t want to get caught doing the wrong thing, but I couldn’t bring myself to fully submit to what was “right”. It made me think of Paul’s letter in Romans 7:15: “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.” Let me not underestimate my young mind: I could not submit because deep down, something felt off. At Fire Church, I had to keep a little bit of my inner fire hidden to stop it from being quenched.

Fire Church understood there to be a metaphorical behavioural line that, when crossed, was the tipping point into hell. The bible says don’t get drunk, but if you drink alcohol, how do you know the exact point at which drunkenness begins? The bible says do not have sex outside of marriage, but does foreplay start at kissing? When we hug, can it ever be platonic affection, or is it inevitably the source of erotic arousal? Why toe the line if we can flee from it by banning alcohol, hugs and kissing until the priest says, “you may now kiss the bride”

The Bible says “flee”2 from temptation!!!

We saw it as having a high standard, but it was a life built around pure fear. Along with this, if you were serving on any ministry team, you had to sign a document that asked you to commit to:

not owning a TV,
not going to the cinema,
not listening to secular music

You couldn’t be a leader whilst welcoming worldly influences to mislead you.

I never joined a team.

I hugged my male friends at school and revelled in opportunities to try out getting drunk with friends. I’m sure other members did too, but we didn’t talk about it. I made friends with the saints on the fringes; we never said it aloud, but we gravitated toward each other as the ones who took all of this with a pinch of salt; we still had friends outside of the congregation and had no intention of shaking them just because they weren’t saved. I didn’t see this as rebellious behaviour though; I saw it as weakness. I lived a life divided, one foot in one foot out: Revelations 3:16 “So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.” My inability to submit to the way they wanted me to live was a lack of commitment to God.

I don’t know how many times I prayed the salvation prayer (Thank you, God, for your sacrifice and giving us your only Son, sorry for sinning and not recognising you, please come into my heart) but, considering Jesus’ sacrifice was said to be once for all, safe to say I responded to that altar call3 at least twelve too many times (a year). It’s hard to describe the infectious atmosphere created by a charismatic evangelical preacher. Responding to an altar call after a convicting4 sermon made me feel cleansed, like a burden had been lifted, even if it only lasted until I started sinning again on Monday morning with my first sweaty male hug of the day.

It was hard to live fully connected to the wonderful people in the world whilst staying in line with the hard restrictions of my faith community, and I guess that was the point. Every non-Christian was a mission field5, and if you weren’t influencing them, they were influencing you. Not only is the road narrow, it’s slippery, and we had a name for those who “fell away” from the way of Jesus: backsliders.

It’s ladders up to heaven and snakes down to hell, y’all. Quite fitting.

If this resonates with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

If you are on a journey with Christianity and any part of the story has triggered you and left you thinking “eww, exactly” …stay with me for more.

A.D x

Rays by A.D

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