The Flames of Hell - July 1977

There were times when his dad was preaching that he saw the flames of hell through the windows of the small store-front church.  Though not an educated man, having quit school when he was 14, the boy's father knew how to paint a picture with his words.  This was especially true when it came to describing the eternal torment that sinners would endure after their deaths.

Hell is a place where the fire is not not quenched and the worm never dies, his father exclaimed.  And if he did not understand the relationship between an undying worm and hellfire, the image nevertheless made the boys skin crawl.  You will be tormented for all time, and you would give anything you ever had - all your money, all your possessions - just to have a small drop of water placed on your tongue to quench your thirst.  But you will never have that drop of water.

The flames of hell will lick around your body for eternity.  Just when you think that you've felt the worst pain you could ever feel, those demons will ratchet up the fire a little more, and you will scream in agony and curse the day you were born and all the days that you failed to give your life over to Jesus.  Today is the day of your salvation, and if you leave this church without asking Jesus into your heart, you risk damning your soul to hell forever.

The boy has heard these same words many times before, and not just from his dad.  Hell was number two on the top five sermon lists of all the Pentecostal preachers he had ever met.  Number five was sexual immorality. Four was being baptized with the Holy Ghost as evidenced by speaking in tongues.  Condemning the so-called Christians in other so-called churches -like Catholics and Presbyterians and Methodists was number three.  The only sermon preached more frequently than the dangers of Hell was the Second Coming of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

The boy had heard them all, repeatedly.  He knew what the preachers would say before they said the words themselves.  He knew the rhythms and cadences that the best preachers employed.  He had already started practicing how to add an extra syllable to words at the end of sentences, like "You need to turn to Gawdda!"  and "Praise the Lordda!"  And he knew that everything they said was geared to getting people out their seats and down to the altar to confess their sins and be born again.  He knew that in part in was all a show, meant to entertain and bring about the desired response, but even so, when he looked at the window behind his dad's relentlessly pacing figure, he could see the flames of Hell waiting to claim him, body and soul. 

It was an image that would stalk him for the rest of his life. It was a fear that would consume him in the quiet of dark nights, whether he was alone or with his wife or lover, in his youth and his old age.  He would never be able to get away from those flames, and every window he ever looked through held the promise and terror of Hell finally catching up to him and his sins. 

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