As I walked through the living room one afternoon, my dad said something I’ll never forget: "If God is so forgiving and so loving, why would he send anyone to Hell?”
Never had I heard such a question, nor thought about it that way. Especially one that seems so blasphemous — that is, according to the Bible Belt I grew up in.
That was 1979 when I was nineteen years old, and I’ve kept that question logged in the back of my mind ever since.
How often do you hear people say, “God will forgive you of all your sins?”
So… if he is that forgiving, wouldn’t he naturally forgive my mistakes and misgivings, even if I had done really bad things?
I mean — surely, if I had done terrible things and died, then come face to face with God, I’d certainly ask (even beg) for forgiveness. And according to his all-loving and all-forgiving nature, he’d forgive me. Right?
However, that’s not what we are told. Most of us, anyway.
The Bible talks about mankind as God’s children. We’re his creation.
I know as a parent, I could not send my son to Hell for eternity. Maybe a few years *laugh* — but no way would I condemn my son to Hell for eternity. Would you send your child to Hell for eternity? In fact, would you send your enemy to Hell for eternity?
I think, in the end, you probably would have a hard time sending even your enemy to burn in Hell for eternity. Sure, you’d want them to suffer a bit. But Hell? Forever? Unlikely.
To be clear, I’m certainly not a Bible scholar. But there was a time you might have called me Captain Commandment, or a Gospel Gladiator, *smile*. I was a sunbeam for Jesus, for sure.
To help you understand why my dad's comment was such a life-changing one, let me share a little background.
I was an early bloomer, so to speak, regarding drugs and alcohol. My first drink and drunk was at eight years old, then got sloppy drunk again at nine, and by the age of eleven and twelve, I was full-blown into drinking and drugging. I lived in a dry county, so I was buying beer at the bootlegger as early as twelve. I also had an older brother, with whom I had access to good smoke.
I was a wild child, for sure. A young hippie to be — and proudly aspired to be a hippie when I grew up. Not a CEO — but a hippie *laugh*.
At thirteen, I got busted by my parents, as did all my friends, putting our little tribe of troublemakers in a latched and locked doghouse. Soon after, however, I discovered the world of religion.
It was a world of peace, love and rock and roll — well, maybe more folk music. Regardless, it was cool music. We called it a Bible Study, but I later learned it was a form of a fundamentalist Pentecostal church, and part of the Jesus movement of the early 70s.
I didn’t care, though. I loved it. So much so, I got saved and went on a crusade to get all of my friends saved.
In fact, I became a FANANTIC!
Do you remember the religious Jesus tracks? They’re comic book-style pamphlets created during the Jesus movement, and made to scare the hell out of you, so that you’d convert, get saved, and become a Christian of a certain flavor. I loved’em, and as one who wanted to save the world, I passed them out like candy at all the local stores, leaving them in bathrooms all over town. I was a proud “Gospel Gladiator!”
Then, I had one of those small pocket-sized New Testaments that I carried in my front shirt pocket everywhere I went, including school, so that I could whip it out on a moment’s notice to preach and save my friends or any of my classmates.
I laugh at myself when I tell this story. Not because of the religious aspects, but because of how fanatical I was at only thirteen years old.
My Captain Commandment period only lasted about three months. A kid brought cocaine to school, and we all partook. We told ourselves, well, I’ve backslid now, and I’m going to Hell, so might as well live it up and have a good time while I’m here.
That’s the mindset that stayed with me all those years until I heard my dad ask that question. The question that put common sense and logic back into spirituality for me.
Up until then, I had been a part-time Catholic growing up in the middle of the Holy Roller, Bible Belt, Southern Baptist capital of the world (Appalachian Mountains of NC). I joke about how I lived one mountain away from the Snake Handlers you’ve heard so much about.
My dad was raised in an orphanage and went to Mass twice a day, and my mom grew up in the Church of Christ. As a family of four kids, we adopted my dad’s belief system, were baptized Catholic, and soon became the typical good Catholic family, going to Mass twice a year (Christmas and Easter). Or… when my aunt was in town. She was a nun.
As a teen, I remember going to the various churches and denominations in my small southern town: the Southern Baptists, Presbyterians, Methodists, with the Baptists being the dominant religion.
There’s a reason they call alcohol spirits, and I truly believe I sought God in the bottle. Even as that little eight-year-old who gussled over a half pint of grape wine, I believe I was trying to satisfy an insatiable desire deep down within. Something that was going to set me free.
Those early days were only the beginning. I even remember, while in college, I’d party all night, staying up until 4 or 5 am, then set my alarm to get up in time to go to Mass on campus the next morning.
One day, after Mass and a previous night of heavy partying, I walked into the smoke-filled apartment, and my roommates were sitting on the couch, stoned, looking at me, totally baffled at the what and why of the situation. They weren’t anti-church, but couldn’t connect the dots of a late-night drinking and early morning Mass. And neither could I.
But that’s what I did. From an early age, I was a seeker. Even “I” think it’s strange. But it’s something I was always drawn to do — pulled to do.
I eventually realized that I always had an insatiable desire to seek God. And I couldn’t just seek, but I had to go deep — to the heart — to the core of the matter. I think intuitively, I knew that’s where the pearls are — the treasures. They’re on the ocean floor deep beneath the sharks and distractions of the sparkling and colorful fish.
Over the course of my life, I've found myself exploring nearly every corner of the spiritual landscape. At thirteen, I was passionately preaching John 3:16 as a young fundamentalist Christian. Years later, I found myself deep into the New Age teachings, meditating on the vortexes of Sedona, sitting in Native American sweat lodges, completing ten-day silent Buddhist meditation retreats, and spending weeks and once, even a month, living in an ashram in India.
Looking back, I wasn't simply changing beliefs — I was searching for truth, healing, and a deeper understanding of what it means to be fully human. What it means to be a spiritual being. Each chapter has taught me something valuable — not only about spirituality, but about me and the universal human longing to belong, to heal, and to discover what is ultimately true for each individual.
I now know that the Bible is a translation of a translation of a translation of a translation — written by man and never seen by the common person until Martin Luther, a Catholic priest, said, “Enough.” Common people should be able to read the Bible, too.
Today, I'm grateful to say I've finally found my home — not in a denomination or a particular religious system, but in a deeper relationship with God and a quieter confidence within myself. The restless search has come to an end. I no longer feel the need to sample every spiritual path in hopes of finding "the one." I've let go of the endless debates over who is right or wrong, who is in or out, who is worthy of heaven, or whose interpretation of Scripture is the correct one. Instead, I've discovered the freedom that comes from seeking God directly, allowing love, humility, and compassion to be my guide rather than fear, certainty, or someone else's conclusions.
Today, my religion is Love.
I’m a Lover *smile*, rather than a Christian, Buddhist, etc. Should I start a church? I could name it the Church of Lovers of Dallas. That’d get some attention, wouldn’t it?
As Pierre Teilhard de Chardin once said, "We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience."
As I consider my religion to be Love, if you watch me from the outside, however, you might think I’m a Hindu. I read the Bhagavad Gita and read and study all the Vedas. I go to all the Hindu temples, like the Hanuman, Ganesh, and Radha Krishna temples. I chant, I meditate, and practice their rituals.
However, just as I’m not a Hindu, but practice their rituals, I’m also not a Christian, but I believe in Jesus. I have been baptized, accepted him into my heart, and try to practice his teachings of love and compassion to the best of my ability.
I’m not Catholic, but I go to Mass sometimes and do the sign of the cross as I enter.
I’m not Jewish, but I believe in an indivisible God, and that ethical living is central — and that justice, compassion, honesty, and care for others are important.
I’m not Islamic, but again, I believe in one indivisible God, as they do, and believe in submission (surrender) to God, in angels, and that Mohammad gave a message.
I claim no church, no temple, no religion.
Yet — I believe as the churches do, as the temples do, and as all the religions do.
I am none of them — yet I am all of them.
All the major religions believe basically the same thing. There are many more commonalities than there are differences.
I believe God does not change — but my perspectives and beliefs about Him change and evolve. If I believe something about God today that was different yesterday, God didn’t change; my perspective did. God is God. It’s all about perspective — our individual perspective. Baptists have a different perspective on the teachings of the Bible than Presbyterians or Catholics. Mormons have different takes, as well. We call them interpretations.
I hope my spiritual beliefs continue to change because that means I’m still open to the vastness and the miraculous creation He has sparked and brought forth.
Note:
Did you know that Quantum Physics and Science are only now catching up with the science of Hinduism? Back long before Galileo and the others discovered that the Earth was a sphere and the distances between Earth, the Sun, the Moon, Mars, and so on, the ancient texts of the Hindu called the Vedas, stated the shape of the Earth and gave precise calculations that turned out to be only minor miscalculations (like 1,000 miles off) when referring to the distance between Earth and the Sun. It’s truly amazing!
And to think — it all began that one afternoon at nineteen. That one comment my dad made, which, by the way, he doesn’t remember saying.
That comment was a permission slip giving me the OK to push back against the patriarchal religious system — one that allowed me to find my God of my understanding. It wasn’t because it was my dad who said it, it was the logic and common sense.
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