Three years ago, I had a memorable picnic in a beautiful mountain spot at the home of a friend, Zafer. It was springtime, and all the fruit trees were in bloom. We drank cold water from the natural spring and sat in the tender grass under a huge, ancient sycamore tree that had sipped waters from the stream for at least four centuries. We listened to the bells of the sheep that came to the spring to quench their thirst. We laughed, took plenty of pictures, ate our fill of good food and looked across the valley to the mountains beyond. It was a day that seemed much like what heaven might be like.

At that picnic, a strange thing happened. I was eating a piece of Turkish pastry called Börek. After an unexpected crunch, I pulled from my mouth a long piece of broken glass! What an unexpected and scary thing to discover with my tongue!
I reflect on that “heavenly picnic” now and wonder what heaven itself would be like if one or two small evils were allowed there. The remainder of that picnic day, I couldn’t bring myself to eat another piece of that delicious Börek. No way! A silent fearful suspicion kept me from putting another one into my mouth. I know there will be no fear at heaven’s picnics. Heaven will be heaven because it will be 100-percent free of evil surprises.

Imagine for a moment you are in heaven. It’s a lovely day, and you are having a family reunion with 70 generations of family members. After the family portrait is taken (whew, that was fun!), you are out exploring with some grandchildren and find a small cave. Peering into the cave, you see a light at the back of it. You enter the cave, and a short distance in you are able to see that the bright light is coming through a crack in the rock. Pressing your forehead to the rock you look with one eye. To your shock you see a torture chamber—a burning hot dungeon with tormented people in it! After you walk back out of that cave into the celestial glory, how could you enjoy heaven?

That’s the fine line between heaven and hell, as some people on our planet believe with all of their fearful, faithful hearts. Most Muslim and Christian authorities teach the coexistence of good and evil for eternity, with God as the sovereign manager of both. I don’t like that. They teach that the final act of God is not the end of evil, but rather the isolation of good from evil. Jesus teaches otherwise, and for this reason I am a missionary. Let me explain.

Stoking my coal stove this last winter gave me a lot of time to think about hellfire. Attached to the front of my coal stove like the eyepiece of a telescope is a little window through which I can peer into the orange embers and monitor the vitality of my fire. I have had a lot of time to meditate while poking that smoky fire, staring into the cinders, and hauling out the ashes. I have learned a good bit about hell through the whole hot messy ordeal of having to heat with coal. (Hell is a coal stove, a white carpet and spouse who wants the house both warm and clean!)
Hell truly is the ultimate separation of man from his Creator. It is the total absence of the Spirit of God.

Many Muslims and some Christians believe that human sins can be burned away through hellfire. After a time, when a person has suffered enough for their sin, they are issued an exit visa from hell and can enter heaven. In this belief, hell is a powerful purging that must take place for people to be fit to enter paradise. Millions of people here in Turkey are counting on their own suffering to do the job that only Jesus’ suffering can do.
The Great Deceiver’s fundamental lie in this teaching is that humans can be purged of sin after death. But no amount of fiery punishment is going to ready anyone for heaven. “Now is the day of salvation.” Of course, Satan wants people to put their hope in their own efforts and future fire rather than in Jesus for deep soul cleansing.
Truth be told, the fire of holiness (which in time becomes hellfire to the wicked) is a friend now, and only now. As Moses met his commissioning King in the burning bush, so John the Baptist says, “He [Jesus] will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.” Tongues of fire came on the heads of the Pentecost apostles; an angel appeared in fire to Samson’s parents; God himself is called “a consuming fire.” In Mark 9, Jesus says, “For everyone will be salted with fire.” So how is this holy fire applied?

Many a morning, I have struggled to get my coal stove burning. After a whole lot of time carefully stacking tiny bits of wood and newspaper and coughing through my fire’s dramatic, smoky death, I have found that pouring a little paint thinner on the coal is a sure way to start a hearty fire fast. Similarly, when we look at every sort of sin-purging gimmick in Christianity and Islam—from church attendance to animal sacrifice (done yearly here) to ritual prayers to giving money to the poor—all of it makes a whole lot of smoke but no fire. What we need is true fire power, which is only available through Jesus’ resurrected life.
True fire power is an outcome of Jesus’ hell experience on a hill called Calvary. In the services of the sanctuary, we see that the lamb was not only killed, but also burned up. That burning was a symbol of the double death Jesus was to experience. Not only a first death, but a second death—hell. Not only the bleeding, but the burning. Jesus went through hell for us on that hill. But the gates of hell could not prevail against Him. Halleluiah!

Last year, the heavenly picnic spot where I enjoyed an afternoon with Zafer burned to ashes in a forest fire. Zafer says the fire came on so quickly and so powerfully that he had no time to rescue anything from his house. He had spent years setting up a beautiful home with orchards filled with hundreds of cherry trees, peach trees, apricot trees, fig trees and grape vines all nestled in the hills with a natural spring. From his home, he had a view stretching over fields, meadows and mountains. With the black smoke and the heat of the fire almost upon him, all Zafer had time to do was release his panicked sheep from their fold, set loose his horse and open the cage for his dogs. Then Zafer retreated and watched as merciless fires overtook his home and orchards. Years of hard labor drifted to the heavens in smoke.

What an awful feeling Zafer had in his stomach as he watched his home and gardens destroyed. Later, police revealed that the devastating fire was caused by arson. It seems Zafer’s neighbors were engaged in some shady dealings. I don’t know the whole story, but whenever I point to the sooty mountain and ask the villagers about it, they shake their heads and say, “dirty money” or “black money” or “mafia.”

This week, I had the chance to go up and take a stroll on the vast, charred hills. Walking through the remains of a forest fire is a lot like what I imagine the millennium will be like on earth. In the midst of the fire’s ruins, the general impression was one of total devastation. However, the micro reality beneath my feet was quite different. Looking down, I could see a veritable nursery of new life—tiny sprigs of green were unfurling, and yellow and purple flowers no bigger than the head of a pin abounded. Through the ashes, green life was pushing silently and powerfully toward the sun.

To me, this is undeniable evidence that Satan, in all his wickedness, isn’t powerful enough to destroy life utterly. Satan is no match for the indestructible life in Jesus. In Revelation 1, Jesus appears in fire and tells us that He has the keys of death and Hades. On a hill called Calvary, hell burned over, but Jesus is the Living One—living through fire, living in holiness, working through the Spirit-fire to purify the people of the world now. Someday, He will send hellfire to purge the earth. Then all evil and every demon and human who harbored evil in their hearts will be gone. Then we will watch with wonder as God remakes the earth, fullness of life emerges from the devastation, and the New Jerusalem descends from heaven. Sin will never rise again. Not a trace! Not a shard of broken glass. The universe will be clean of evil entirely and forever, with no more lurking surprises.
Jesus, thank You for hell and a hill.

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