Dec 8 2019 2 Thessalonians 1:5-12

These will suffer the punishment of eternal destruction, separated from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of his might

Some years ago, a priest was talking about hell. Rather than the fiery place down below, he described hell as the place where we are separated from God. He went on to say that the separation is of our own making. And while I appreciated the notion that it was not the place with the red devils, I didn’t fully understand, or maybe I didn’t appreciate it.

This morning’s reading from 2 Thessalonians reiterates this notion. Hell, or to suffer the punishment of eternal destruction is to be separated from the presence of the Lord. I have seen this on earth. I have met people so tormented by their past, or by illness, or by grief, that they are separated from God’s presence.

One mother of an adult daughter who died after the birth of her first child blamed God for her daughter’s death. She walked away from church and God, and remained stuck in her grief. I understand her grief. And she was so sad for years to come. She separated herself from God’s love, and suffered.

A faith-filled young couple, fully immersed in orthodoxy, walked away from God and their faith, after the death of a friend. Now they’re angry, and bitter.

People who look at the world now, with all of its war and death, and despots and megalomaniacs. How can there be a God, if this is what we have? These people walk away from God’s love, and remain mired in the despair and cynicism that is bound to happen in the absence of God’s love.

In each case, though, it’s the individual who walks away, strait in to their own living hell. Without a belief in something inherently and constantly good, they see nothing but the pain. To be clear, there’s nothing about my faith in an all-loving God that immunizes me from pain, or makes me blind to the suffering. Worse than just seeing and living the suffering, people who walk away have lost their sense that good wins. That God wins. That love wins.

There is an enduring sense of hopefulness, that comes with faith in God. I’m reminded of Princess Diana’s funeral. A reporter was asking a leading faith leader involved in the memorial why the event seemed so festive. Bells, resounding hymns, a nearly joyous celebration. The priest simply said that it’s a happy celebration, because “we know the rest of the story”. Even amidst death, retaining faith in an all redeeming God keeps us from our own suffering and despair-filled hell.

As a person of faith who’s committed my life to the Church, part of my job is to tell and show people that despite all their suffering, or all they see around them, God is Love, and Love wins. 

This morning, I’m thinking about ways I can bring people back to God’s love, especially people who’ve walked away, into a place of constant suffering without a sense of hope. For me, this isn’t so much about speaking; I’m generally more reserved than to offer fiery speeches, either from a pulpit or out on the world. But I can show people God’s love. Through my actions. Through the love of the church. Through engaging others to do the same. Today, I want to take one action to do this.