Fires of Hell, Stones of Brim? That’s Not How God Rolls
By: Marilyn Flower
Tags: Humor, Religion, Fiction, Ninjabyob, God

Pastor’s Blog: Lamb Date: April 7, 2018

Hey there Lamb Lighters,

Your Pastor here has received a complaint.

Can you believe it?!! Thirteen lucky years being your fearless — fearless of what I’m afraid to find out — -but I am fearless.

Anyway, do you believe that in thirteen years of ministering to all you lovely lights at Jesus the Lamb, I’ve only had one complaint?

If you said yes, thank you! I love you! I’ll put your name on the wall of fame.

But you would be wrong. I get all kinds of complaints, though thankfully, not too terribly often. In my book, more than once a month is often. More than once a week is terribly often. Hint, hint.

Anyway, today’s complaint was one of our parishioners who shall remain nameless. I mean, he does have a name, but I won’t share it here. I accidentally revealed his gender, but maybe not. You never can tell anymore.

So, the complaint? I don’t talk about God enough.

I mention God, I refer to God, I pray to God, but I don’t explain God. Not that God needs explaining or even can be explained in some senses of the word.

But my friend here was genuinely asking what kind of God I believe in. Well, actually, that’s a question, and I called it a complaint. Our friend complained that I don’t talk enough about hellfire and brimstone.

Even though this will be in my talk on the next best fitting Sunday, I didn’t want to wait till then to respond, lest I be condemned to hell for taking too long.

Let me be clear, friends.

You won’t ever hear me preach hellfire and brimstone. I may mention it, explain it, and then refute it.

But you won’t find Yours Truly teaching that God is the kind of judgemental Dude who keeps score, makes a list, checks it twice and sends bad boys and girls, men, women and “decline-to-states” to spend eternity condemned to the fires of hell and the stones of brim — whatever they are!

That’s not how I roll. And more importantly, that’s not how God rolls.

Yes, there are plenty of preachers and churches, books and podcasts that will tell you otherwise. I am not one of them. My God, and I hope, your God, is a God of Love. In fact. Love is a synonym for God. If you capitalize it. Cause we know you love your honey, and you love your money, and you love your caramel macchiatos, especially.

But that’s lower case love. No offense to all the Honeys out there, Wendy and my kids included.

When I say God is Love and Love is God, we are talking about the Supremest Force in the Universe. Yes, you Boomers, even more Supreme than Diana Ross, and she’s the Ultimate Suprema.

God is Love, and whoever abides in Love abides in God, and God abides in him — or her — or they/them. Gotta watch our pronouns. (1 John 4:16)

I wasn’t raised to believe in that kind of God.

My parents were more the hellfire and brimstone types. They passed away before they could pass that along to me. Oh, I heard the expression many, many times, but I was just too young for it to stick. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending.

My friend of email fame probably thinks I need to teach it because I need to heed it. I am not saying I am perfect, but is he? Are you? Are we? No. None of us are — none of us.

Not even those preachers who scream and holler about your eternal warming. Trying to scare the hell out of you.

Or put the fear of hell into you.

But I ask you, has all that ranting and raving made us any “gooder?” Any less sinful? Or does it just help them rack up more guilt-driven tela-evangelical fans? Hmm?

Fortunately, or unfortunately, you can’t buy your way into heaven. Or even forgiveness. You have to earn it. With humble sincerity and a willingness to make amends as they say in AA. Or confession as they say in Catholicism.

Or, as we like to say here at the Lamb, and I’m quoting God here: Faith without works is dead. (James 2:20) Meaning, ya gotta walk your talk. Feel it yes, then real it. Make it real by living your heart. That’s how you practice Love, by living your heart. That’s capital “L” Love, God Love. That’s what I’m talking about.

So yes, Virginia there (still) is a Santa Claus, so be good for goodness sakes. And no, email friend, there is no hellfire and brimstone here. Sin yes. Love yes. But no eternal damnation.