The Skeleton's in God's Closet
Joshua Ryan Butler
Joshua Ryan Butler
Chapter 4. Boundary of Mercy (selected quotes)
But first, I want to confront this feature of the caricature head-on: hell’s purpose is not torture. It is protection. In my own life, the light-bulb turned on back in my college days, while reading a passage of C. S. Lewis’s The Pilgrim’s Regress. The book is an allegory in which John, the main character, stumbles and fumbles (rather than progresses) his way into the life of the kingdom. He travels through exotic lands and meets interesting characters, each representing different challenges to the life of the faith.
Toward the end of his journey, John has one troubling, lingering question: he wants to know about the Landlord and the black hole. The Landlord is a metaphor for God: “the lord of the land,” the ruler of all the places John’s travels have brought him thus far. The black hole is a metaphor for hell: a place John has heard rumor of, where unrepentant rebels against the Landlord are banished. John has deep concerns about the Landlord and the black hole, and the ensuing parable is a good place for this chapter’s discussion to begin.
But first, I want to confront this feature of the caricature head-on: hell’s purpose is not torture. It is protection. In my own life, the light-bulb turned on back in my college days, while reading a passage of C. S. Lewis’s The Pilgrim’s Regress. The book is an allegory in which John, the main character, stumbles and fumbles (rather than progresses) his way into the life of the kingdom. He travels through exotic lands and meets interesting characters, each representing different challenges to the life of the faith.
Toward the end of his journey, John has one troubling, lingering question: he wants to know about the Landlord and the black hole. The Landlord is a metaphor for God: “the lord of the land,” the ruler of all the places John’s travels have brought him thus far. The black hole is a metaphor for hell: a place John has heard rumor of, where unrepentant rebels against the Landlord are banished. John has deep concerns about the Landlord and the black hole, and the ensuing parable is a good place for this chapter’s discussion to begin.
The Landlord does not make the blackness. The blackness is there
wherever the taste of mountain-apple has created the vermiculate
will. What do you mean by a hole? Something that ends. A black
hole is blackness enclosed, limited. And in that sense the Landlord
has made the black hole. He has put into the world a Worst Thing.
But evil of itself would never reach a worst: for evil is fissiparous
and could never in a thousand eternities find any way to arrest its
own reproduction. If it could, it would be no longer evil: for Form
and Limit belong to the good. The walls of the black hole are the
tourniquet on the wound through which the lost soul else would
bleed to a death she never reached. It is the Landlord’s last service to
those who will let him do nothing better for them
wherever the taste of mountain-apple has created the vermiculate
will. What do you mean by a hole? Something that ends. A black
hole is blackness enclosed, limited. And in that sense the Landlord
has made the black hole. He has put into the world a Worst Thing.
But evil of itself would never reach a worst: for evil is fissiparous
and could never in a thousand eternities find any way to arrest its
own reproduction. If it could, it would be no longer evil: for Form
and Limit belong to the good. The walls of the black hole are the
tourniquet on the wound through which the lost soul else would
bleed to a death she never reached. It is the Landlord’s last service to
those who will let him do nothing better for them
Like a thick, hearty meal, this passage has a lot to chew on. Let’s begin and take it one bite at a time.
The Nature of Evil
John’s Guide gives us three important observations on the nature of evil. First, he says evil is “fissiparous”: this is a fancy way of saying it is divisive. Sin takes things that are whole and tries to break them up, to put cracks and fissures in them. Sin takes a sledgehammer to God’s good world: to divide, devour, and destroy. Adultery divides a marriage; greed devours a resource; murder destroys a body. As we have seen, sin attacks the integrity of God’s shalom in the world, puts cracks in it, tries to fragment the human community and tear creation apart from the inside out.
Evil is like a crack in your windshield: it starts at a point but spreads, working its way throughout the entire glass to shatter it. Similarly, sin spreads cracks through the human community to fracture and shatter us. Augustine envisioned the human community as something like a china doll: created with a unity both beautiful and fragile, yet thrown to the ground by sin and fractured and shattered into millions of scattered pieces that now fill
the earth.
Sin wages war on God’s shalom. As we have seen, its wicked root grows quickly into dark and disastrous trees that tower over the earth. Its spark blazes into a wildfire that threatens to burn down the world. John’s Guide is right: evil is fissiparous—a divisive force that aims to destroy the flourishing God intends for the human community.
Evil Is a Parasite
The Guide’s second observation on the nature of evil is that it is a parasite: it has no independent existence of its own, but must feed off the good. God creates a good world (“Form and Limit belong to the good”) and does not create evil (“The Landlord does not make the blackness”). Evil is, in contrast, an intruder in God’s beautiful creation. This mirrors our earlier observation that God does not create “heaven, earth . . . and hell.” Rather, God creates heaven and earth—and creates them good. God’s world does not need evil to exist, but evil feeds off of God’s good world.
Evil is a parasite that wants to tear creation apart from the inside out. In the same way that a healthy body does not require cancer to exist, God’s creation does not require evil to exist. But the inverse is not true. Cancer does require a living, breathing body to sustain its existence, and evil similarly requires God’s good creation to sustain its own existence. Before Satan was a fallen angel, he was just an angel, and that was a good thing created by God.
Like a parasite feeding off a healthy host, evil feeds off the goodness that God provides. So let’s review:
God creates good things; he does not corrupt them.
Evil corrupts good things; it cannot create them.
Evil Is Aggressive
The Guide’s third and final observation on the nature of evil is that it is aggressive. Sin is not a quiet roommate; it could “never in a thousand eternities find any way to arrest its own reproduction.” It is not content to stay in its corner and peacefully coexist with God’s kingdom. Gehenna wants inside Jerusalem. Like an addict, the more evil is given, the more its appetite grows.
Sin will not be content until it has destroyed the world.
Sin is an aggressor that continually thirsts after more and will deceive to get its way. If hell had its way, it would consume all of heaven and earth; it would devour and destroy until there was nothing left but the chaotic oblivion of its own self-determined annihilation.
Herein lies the chief irony of sin: it wants distance from God, it desires autonomy from the Creator, but in this distance is found its own destruction. When cancer destroys its host, it simultaneously destroys itself. Evil is a cancer out to destroy God’s good world, and it doesn’t care if it goes down with the ship. Sin seeks to drag creation back into the nihilistic void from which it came. If evil had its way, it would no longer be evil; it would cease to exist.
Sin is anti-creation. It is an aggressive parasite that preys upon the good to maintain its own consumptive existence. If God’s good kingdom is to be established upon the earth, a kingdom characterized by holiness, justice, and love; and if evil is a divisive, aggressive parasite that seeks to do violence to God’s benevolent purposes for his world; then something must be done about evil, for it will not be content to coexist in the New Jerusalem as a disgruntled but quiet roommate. If God is to redeem, evil must be expelled and a boundary placed to protect God’s holy city from evil’s imperial intentions.
This brings us to the nature of the Landlord.
The Nature of Evil
John’s Guide gives us three important observations on the nature of evil. First, he says evil is “fissiparous”: this is a fancy way of saying it is divisive. Sin takes things that are whole and tries to break them up, to put cracks and fissures in them. Sin takes a sledgehammer to God’s good world: to divide, devour, and destroy. Adultery divides a marriage; greed devours a resource; murder destroys a body. As we have seen, sin attacks the integrity of God’s shalom in the world, puts cracks in it, tries to fragment the human community and tear creation apart from the inside out.
Evil is like a crack in your windshield: it starts at a point but spreads, working its way throughout the entire glass to shatter it. Similarly, sin spreads cracks through the human community to fracture and shatter us. Augustine envisioned the human community as something like a china doll: created with a unity both beautiful and fragile, yet thrown to the ground by sin and fractured and shattered into millions of scattered pieces that now fill
the earth.
Sin wages war on God’s shalom. As we have seen, its wicked root grows quickly into dark and disastrous trees that tower over the earth. Its spark blazes into a wildfire that threatens to burn down the world. John’s Guide is right: evil is fissiparous—a divisive force that aims to destroy the flourishing God intends for the human community.
Evil Is a Parasite
The Guide’s second observation on the nature of evil is that it is a parasite: it has no independent existence of its own, but must feed off the good. God creates a good world (“Form and Limit belong to the good”) and does not create evil (“The Landlord does not make the blackness”). Evil is, in contrast, an intruder in God’s beautiful creation. This mirrors our earlier observation that God does not create “heaven, earth . . . and hell.” Rather, God creates heaven and earth—and creates them good. God’s world does not need evil to exist, but evil feeds off of God’s good world.
Evil is a parasite that wants to tear creation apart from the inside out. In the same way that a healthy body does not require cancer to exist, God’s creation does not require evil to exist. But the inverse is not true. Cancer does require a living, breathing body to sustain its existence, and evil similarly requires God’s good creation to sustain its own existence. Before Satan was a fallen angel, he was just an angel, and that was a good thing created by God.
Like a parasite feeding off a healthy host, evil feeds off the goodness that God provides. So let’s review:
God creates good things; he does not corrupt them.
Evil corrupts good things; it cannot create them.
Evil Is Aggressive
The Guide’s third and final observation on the nature of evil is that it is aggressive. Sin is not a quiet roommate; it could “never in a thousand eternities find any way to arrest its own reproduction.” It is not content to stay in its corner and peacefully coexist with God’s kingdom. Gehenna wants inside Jerusalem. Like an addict, the more evil is given, the more its appetite grows.
Sin will not be content until it has destroyed the world.
Sin is an aggressor that continually thirsts after more and will deceive to get its way. If hell had its way, it would consume all of heaven and earth; it would devour and destroy until there was nothing left but the chaotic oblivion of its own self-determined annihilation.
Herein lies the chief irony of sin: it wants distance from God, it desires autonomy from the Creator, but in this distance is found its own destruction. When cancer destroys its host, it simultaneously destroys itself. Evil is a cancer out to destroy God’s good world, and it doesn’t care if it goes down with the ship. Sin seeks to drag creation back into the nihilistic void from which it came. If evil had its way, it would no longer be evil; it would cease to exist.
Sin is anti-creation. It is an aggressive parasite that preys upon the good to maintain its own consumptive existence. If God’s good kingdom is to be established upon the earth, a kingdom characterized by holiness, justice, and love; and if evil is a divisive, aggressive parasite that seeks to do violence to God’s benevolent purposes for his world; then something must be done about evil, for it will not be content to coexist in the New Jerusalem as a disgruntled but quiet roommate. If God is to redeem, evil must be expelled and a boundary placed to protect God’s holy city from evil’s imperial intentions.
This brings us to the nature of the Landlord.
THE LANDLORD'S KINDNESS
John’s Guide also makes three important observations on the nature of the Landlord. First, the Landlord does not create evil: “The Landlord does not make the blackness.” God is not the author of sin; God is good. God desires
the flourishing of his world. Where, then, does evil come from? As we have seen, we are the ones, not God, who unleash its destructive power in the world. We are the architects of autonomy, the engineers of evil, who let loose
the blackness that threatens to paint over the vibrant colors of God’s universe.
The word vermiculate means “worm-eaten”: the Guide is saying that our worm-eaten will, in rebellion against God, is the source of evil in the world; not God.
One of the problems with the ways we tend to talk about the power of hell is that we shift the blame for the cruelty that is ours in the world away from ourselves and toward the heart of the God who is good.
Our problem is not that we are good and God is evil. The gospel flips this illusion on its head: God is good and we are evil. Our healing begins with our repentant acknowledgment of this fact; then we can fall into the arms of mercy that are waiting to receive us.
But what if we will not repentantly acknowledge this truth? What if we will not fall into mercy? What if we will not receive and be healed?
The Logic of Containment
The Guide’s second observation on the nature of the Landlord is that he does set limits to the extent of evil’s destruction: “A black hole is blackness enclosed, limited.” The Landlord does not create the blackness, but he does
contain it. It is in this sense that the Landlord has created the boundary of the black hole: to contain its expansion. He has “put into the world a Worst Thing” for the simple reason that “evil of itself would never reach a worst.”
God contains the destructive power of evil so that it may not infringe upon the peace of his new creation. Hell is a boundary that says to evil’s imperial intent: “You may come this far, and no further.” It restrains sin’s dark intentions for God’s redeemed world. It is a container for evil.
This mirrors what we saw in the last chapter: that at the end of the biblical story, the gates of God’s city are always open, yet evil is not allowed inside.God’s city is a magnificent gift for the nations of the world who come streaming in, yet those who practice idolatry, murder, sexual immorality, deception, and all those things that would infringe upon the peace of God’s new creation are kept outside.
This New Jerusalem imagery illustrates the same point the Guide is making: the Landlord contains the blackness in the black hole so it will no longer be allowed to infringe upon the flourishing of his good world. God contains evil so that it will not be allowed to do violence to the peace of his new creation. When God’s kingdom is established, no longer will any evil aggressor be allowed to bring bloodshed to God’s planet.
Hell is not a place God creates to torture people, but a power that God contains to protect the overflowing life of his new creation.
The Tourniquet on the Wound
The Guide’s third and final observation is this: the Landlord is motivated by mercy. The black hole is “the Landlord’s last service to those who will let him do nothing better for them.” How is the black hole an act of service, of kindness, of mercy, to the unrepentant rebel? It is easier to see how God is motivated by mercy in redemption. God does not have to redeem his world, but he does. The Creator is under no obligation or requirement: he could be good in and of himself and leave us to our own devices. But he doesn’t.
But the Guide goes further. He declares that the Landlord is motivated by mercy not only toward those who accept it, but also toward those who reject it. How? He explains: the Landlord wants to heal the unrepentant; but if they will not allow it, then he gives them the most merciful option for their self-imposed predicament. The walls of the black hole are “the tourniquet on the wound through which the lost soul else would bleed to a death she never reached.”
God is a Great Physician who gives the recalcitrant the best medicine for their situation. If they do not want to be healed, then he will at least restrict the extent to which the cancer inside them can grow. Hell limits the extent of sin’s growth as an act of God’s mercy toward those “who will let him do nothing better for them.” First
At the conclusion of the passage, the Guide rejoices in awe at the amazing and unfathomable mercy of God:
the flourishing of his world. Where, then, does evil come from? As we have seen, we are the ones, not God, who unleash its destructive power in the world. We are the architects of autonomy, the engineers of evil, who let loose
the blackness that threatens to paint over the vibrant colors of God’s universe.
The word vermiculate means “worm-eaten”: the Guide is saying that our worm-eaten will, in rebellion against God, is the source of evil in the world; not God.
One of the problems with the ways we tend to talk about the power of hell is that we shift the blame for the cruelty that is ours in the world away from ourselves and toward the heart of the God who is good.
Our problem is not that we are good and God is evil. The gospel flips this illusion on its head: God is good and we are evil. Our healing begins with our repentant acknowledgment of this fact; then we can fall into the arms of mercy that are waiting to receive us.
But what if we will not repentantly acknowledge this truth? What if we will not fall into mercy? What if we will not receive and be healed?
The Logic of Containment
The Guide’s second observation on the nature of the Landlord is that he does set limits to the extent of evil’s destruction: “A black hole is blackness enclosed, limited.” The Landlord does not create the blackness, but he does
contain it. It is in this sense that the Landlord has created the boundary of the black hole: to contain its expansion. He has “put into the world a Worst Thing” for the simple reason that “evil of itself would never reach a worst.”
God contains the destructive power of evil so that it may not infringe upon the peace of his new creation. Hell is a boundary that says to evil’s imperial intent: “You may come this far, and no further.” It restrains sin’s dark intentions for God’s redeemed world. It is a container for evil.
This mirrors what we saw in the last chapter: that at the end of the biblical story, the gates of God’s city are always open, yet evil is not allowed inside.God’s city is a magnificent gift for the nations of the world who come streaming in, yet those who practice idolatry, murder, sexual immorality, deception, and all those things that would infringe upon the peace of God’s new creation are kept outside.
This New Jerusalem imagery illustrates the same point the Guide is making: the Landlord contains the blackness in the black hole so it will no longer be allowed to infringe upon the flourishing of his good world. God contains evil so that it will not be allowed to do violence to the peace of his new creation. When God’s kingdom is established, no longer will any evil aggressor be allowed to bring bloodshed to God’s planet.
Hell is not a place God creates to torture people, but a power that God contains to protect the overflowing life of his new creation.
The Tourniquet on the Wound
The Guide’s third and final observation is this: the Landlord is motivated by mercy. The black hole is “the Landlord’s last service to those who will let him do nothing better for them.” How is the black hole an act of service, of kindness, of mercy, to the unrepentant rebel? It is easier to see how God is motivated by mercy in redemption. God does not have to redeem his world, but he does. The Creator is under no obligation or requirement: he could be good in and of himself and leave us to our own devices. But he doesn’t.
But the Guide goes further. He declares that the Landlord is motivated by mercy not only toward those who accept it, but also toward those who reject it. How? He explains: the Landlord wants to heal the unrepentant; but if they will not allow it, then he gives them the most merciful option for their self-imposed predicament. The walls of the black hole are “the tourniquet on the wound through which the lost soul else would bleed to a death she never reached.”
God is a Great Physician who gives the recalcitrant the best medicine for their situation. If they do not want to be healed, then he will at least restrict the extent to which the cancer inside them can grow. Hell limits the extent of sin’s growth as an act of God’s mercy toward those “who will let him do nothing better for them.” First
At the conclusion of the passage, the Guide rejoices in awe at the amazing and unfathomable mercy of God:
God in His mercy made
The fixèd pains of Hell.
That misery might be stayed,
God in His mercy made
Eternal bounds and bade
Its waves no further swell.
God in His mercy made
The fixèd pains of Hell.
The fixèd pains of Hell.
That misery might be stayed,
God in His mercy made
Eternal bounds and bade
Its waves no further swell.
God in His mercy made
The fixèd pains of Hell.
TORTURE VS. CONTAINMENT
Hell is not a place God creates to torture sinners, but a power God excludes to protect the robust vitality of his kingdom. God’s purpose of containment, in radical contrast to the caricature, reveals a motive of mercy. God’s mercy
redeems the human community and reconciles the broader creation from the destructive power of sin. Perhaps more surprisingly, however, God’s mercy is also seen in his treatment of the impenitent: he does not torture or kill them, but rather hands them over to their desire.
God’s mercy is revealed through and through: God’s mercy toward the human community shattered by the sledgehammer of sin. God’s mercy toward his creation groaning under the weight of evil. God’s mercy toward the unrepentant rebel who refuses to be healed.
For both God’s redemptive kingdom and those who refuse to repent: hell is a boundary of mercy.
But the question arises: “Is this the most merciful option?” While this is better than the caricature, are there other alternatives available? So far as I can tell, there are only four options God has for dealing with dissidents if he is going to redeem our world. And of the four, this is not only a merciful option; it is the most merciful option. Let’s explore the alternatives.
“Marry Me and Bring in Your Old Lovers”
God’s First option for dealing with unabashed evil is to ignore it. But to ignore it or pretend it isn’t there would really mean that creation hasn’t been redeemed. It would be like a doctor saying he had healed his patient of cancer, and ignoring all the incoming tests and X-rays showing the cancer still there. If children are still crying, nations are still warring, and people are still dying—then it isn’t really the new creation.
God ignoring evil in his city would be like him bending down on one knee, pulling out the ring, and saying, “Marry me and bring in all your old lovers.”
To bring sin into God’s city is to bring our old lovers into God’s honeymoon suite. And our old lovers want to tear that suite apart. Sin is the destructive force that caused the problem in the first place, the power from which God redeems creation. Our world is redeemed from sin and to God. For God to ignore unrepentant sin in the new creation would be to make a farce of redemption; it would say implicitly that creation hadn’t truly been redeemed.
It is a sham marriage.
For God to ignore sin is not merciful. If redemption is to be real rather than a farce, it is not really an option at all. It is like God saying, “Marry me, bring your old lovers—and let them tear our new world apart.”
“Marry Me or I’ll Kill You”
God’s second option for dealing with unrepentant evil is to annihilate it. Some people have seen annihilation as God’s most merciful option: the idea that God would simply kill the rebels, “put them out of their misery,” rather than let them live on in their unfortunate condition. I have found, however, that this only seems more merciful at first glance because it is responding to the caricature of God torturing people for eternity. There are a few significant problems with annihilation. First, it is problematic because Christ has conquered death: the grave is no longer an option. Christ has razed Sheol, its gates have been torn down, and its dark road leading down into the depths of the earth has been forever closed. Because of Christ’s victory over death, the cessation of existence is no longer possible. Christ’s life-giving victory lays life’s claim upon even the one who turns away from Christ toward the darkness she can never fully reach.
Annihilation minimizes the scope and power of Jesus’ resurrection.
God does not shoot us if we refuse to be with him; he simply hands us over to our refusal. As we shall see even more clearly in future chapters, this is punishment enough. If we want independence over communion, if we prefer autonomy to worship, if we desire sin over salvation, then God’s most merciful option is simply to let us go our own way, to hand us over to the decision we have made.
For God to annihilate the unrepentant sinner like a spurned lover would be an act not of mercy but of spite on God’s part. Hell is the more merciful option.
“Marry Me or I’ll Lock You in the Basement”
God’s third option for dealing with unrepentant evil is to redeem it. The irony, of course, is that redeeming rebels is precisely what God has done. In Christ, God has redeemed the human community and the broader creation from sin and its consequence: death. To ask God to redeem us from sin is to ask for what he has already graciously provided on the cross. Hell does not involve God’s refusal to redeem, but our refusal to be redeemed.
God is the object of redemption. We are redeemed from sin to God. Sin is, by its very nature, opposed to God—this is why we need to be redeemed! To ask God to redeem the nature of sin itself is to ask for a contradiction: it is to misunderstand what sin is. It is like asking God to let us accept the marriage proposal and never have to see him again.
Along these lines, some have found God’s most merciful option to be a universalism in which God sends unrepentant rebels to hell to purge them of their sin until all are eventually redeemed into his kingdom. Once again, however, there is a major common-sense problem with this. It is like God saying, “Marry me or I’ll lock you in the basement until you learn to love me.” We know from common courtesy and everyday experience that the most mature response to a rejected marriage proposal is not to abduct the unrequited lover and lock her in your basement, but simply to let her go her own way.
As we have seen, God does not lock unrepentant rebels in his basement until they “learn to love him”; his goal is not to give them a good flogging to try and purge them of their sin. Rather, God lets the marriage-rejecters go their own way, and contains the destructive power of their sin “outside the city” to prevent them from crashing the wedding.
“Marry Me or Go Your Own Way”
This brings us to God’s fourth and final option for dealing with unrepentant evil: containment. If God is to redeem creation, there are no other alternatives available as far as I can see, and this is by far the most merciful one around. God invites us into marital union with him, but he creates a space for those who prefer independence to communion, who want autonomy over worship, who desire sin over salvation.
God is good, gloriously good. He has other options: he could lock the unrequited lovers in his basement and beat them senseless until they “learn to love him” and just play along. He could annihilate them on the eternal gallows to show the world once and for all that he’s the boss they shouldn’t have messed with. But he doesn’t. In mercy, he simply hands them over to the life apart from him that they desire.
He hands them over to themselves. The horror of this is, as we shall see, punishment enough.
And God protects his holy city. “No one who does what is deceitful will enter it.” The spark will no longer be allowed to start the wildfire. Our destruction will not be allowed inside. It is God’s way of saying, “You can have your sin, but you cannot have it here.” God’s containment of hell’s destructive power outside the city fulfills his promise in Isaiah: “No longer will they hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain.”God protects his kingdom from all that stands opposed to its flourishing.
Hell is a boundary of mercy. God hands the unrequited lovers over to the distance they crave, and their adulteries are no longer allowed inside the new home. Jesus banishes those who refuse his amnesty as king, and protects the wedded bliss of his city from all who stand opposed. The Spirit of God, like a Great Physician, wraps the tourniquet on the wound we refuse to let him heal, protecting both the kingdom and the rebel from the insatiable growth of the sickness inside. This is an act of God’s goodness toward his new creation: for it secures its redemptive flourishing.
redeems the human community and reconciles the broader creation from the destructive power of sin. Perhaps more surprisingly, however, God’s mercy is also seen in his treatment of the impenitent: he does not torture or kill them, but rather hands them over to their desire.
God’s mercy is revealed through and through: God’s mercy toward the human community shattered by the sledgehammer of sin. God’s mercy toward his creation groaning under the weight of evil. God’s mercy toward the unrepentant rebel who refuses to be healed.
For both God’s redemptive kingdom and those who refuse to repent: hell is a boundary of mercy.
But the question arises: “Is this the most merciful option?” While this is better than the caricature, are there other alternatives available? So far as I can tell, there are only four options God has for dealing with dissidents if he is going to redeem our world. And of the four, this is not only a merciful option; it is the most merciful option. Let’s explore the alternatives.
“Marry Me and Bring in Your Old Lovers”
God’s First option for dealing with unabashed evil is to ignore it. But to ignore it or pretend it isn’t there would really mean that creation hasn’t been redeemed. It would be like a doctor saying he had healed his patient of cancer, and ignoring all the incoming tests and X-rays showing the cancer still there. If children are still crying, nations are still warring, and people are still dying—then it isn’t really the new creation.
God ignoring evil in his city would be like him bending down on one knee, pulling out the ring, and saying, “Marry me and bring in all your old lovers.”
To bring sin into God’s city is to bring our old lovers into God’s honeymoon suite. And our old lovers want to tear that suite apart. Sin is the destructive force that caused the problem in the first place, the power from which God redeems creation. Our world is redeemed from sin and to God. For God to ignore unrepentant sin in the new creation would be to make a farce of redemption; it would say implicitly that creation hadn’t truly been redeemed.
It is a sham marriage.
For God to ignore sin is not merciful. If redemption is to be real rather than a farce, it is not really an option at all. It is like God saying, “Marry me, bring your old lovers—and let them tear our new world apart.”
“Marry Me or I’ll Kill You”
God’s second option for dealing with unrepentant evil is to annihilate it. Some people have seen annihilation as God’s most merciful option: the idea that God would simply kill the rebels, “put them out of their misery,” rather than let them live on in their unfortunate condition. I have found, however, that this only seems more merciful at first glance because it is responding to the caricature of God torturing people for eternity. There are a few significant problems with annihilation. First, it is problematic because Christ has conquered death: the grave is no longer an option. Christ has razed Sheol, its gates have been torn down, and its dark road leading down into the depths of the earth has been forever closed. Because of Christ’s victory over death, the cessation of existence is no longer possible. Christ’s life-giving victory lays life’s claim upon even the one who turns away from Christ toward the darkness she can never fully reach.
Annihilation minimizes the scope and power of Jesus’ resurrection.
God does not shoot us if we refuse to be with him; he simply hands us over to our refusal. As we shall see even more clearly in future chapters, this is punishment enough. If we want independence over communion, if we prefer autonomy to worship, if we desire sin over salvation, then God’s most merciful option is simply to let us go our own way, to hand us over to the decision we have made.
For God to annihilate the unrepentant sinner like a spurned lover would be an act not of mercy but of spite on God’s part. Hell is the more merciful option.
“Marry Me or I’ll Lock You in the Basement”
God’s third option for dealing with unrepentant evil is to redeem it. The irony, of course, is that redeeming rebels is precisely what God has done. In Christ, God has redeemed the human community and the broader creation from sin and its consequence: death. To ask God to redeem us from sin is to ask for what he has already graciously provided on the cross. Hell does not involve God’s refusal to redeem, but our refusal to be redeemed.
God is the object of redemption. We are redeemed from sin to God. Sin is, by its very nature, opposed to God—this is why we need to be redeemed! To ask God to redeem the nature of sin itself is to ask for a contradiction: it is to misunderstand what sin is. It is like asking God to let us accept the marriage proposal and never have to see him again.
Along these lines, some have found God’s most merciful option to be a universalism in which God sends unrepentant rebels to hell to purge them of their sin until all are eventually redeemed into his kingdom. Once again, however, there is a major common-sense problem with this. It is like God saying, “Marry me or I’ll lock you in the basement until you learn to love me.” We know from common courtesy and everyday experience that the most mature response to a rejected marriage proposal is not to abduct the unrequited lover and lock her in your basement, but simply to let her go her own way.
As we have seen, God does not lock unrepentant rebels in his basement until they “learn to love him”; his goal is not to give them a good flogging to try and purge them of their sin. Rather, God lets the marriage-rejecters go their own way, and contains the destructive power of their sin “outside the city” to prevent them from crashing the wedding.
“Marry Me or Go Your Own Way”
This brings us to God’s fourth and final option for dealing with unrepentant evil: containment. If God is to redeem creation, there are no other alternatives available as far as I can see, and this is by far the most merciful one around. God invites us into marital union with him, but he creates a space for those who prefer independence to communion, who want autonomy over worship, who desire sin over salvation.
God is good, gloriously good. He has other options: he could lock the unrequited lovers in his basement and beat them senseless until they “learn to love him” and just play along. He could annihilate them on the eternal gallows to show the world once and for all that he’s the boss they shouldn’t have messed with. But he doesn’t. In mercy, he simply hands them over to the life apart from him that they desire.
He hands them over to themselves. The horror of this is, as we shall see, punishment enough.
And God protects his holy city. “No one who does what is deceitful will enter it.” The spark will no longer be allowed to start the wildfire. Our destruction will not be allowed inside. It is God’s way of saying, “You can have your sin, but you cannot have it here.” God’s containment of hell’s destructive power outside the city fulfills his promise in Isaiah: “No longer will they hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain.”God protects his kingdom from all that stands opposed to its flourishing.
Hell is a boundary of mercy. God hands the unrequited lovers over to the distance they crave, and their adulteries are no longer allowed inside the new home. Jesus banishes those who refuse his amnesty as king, and protects the wedded bliss of his city from all who stand opposed. The Spirit of God, like a Great Physician, wraps the tourniquet on the wound we refuse to let him heal, protecting both the kingdom and the rebel from the insatiable growth of the sickness inside. This is an act of God’s goodness toward his new creation: for it secures its redemptive flourishing.