The term "hell" can refer to four different things (depending on how you categorize them). Understanding how each use of the word is similar or different has helped me understand God's plan for me. My own personal experiences are a tool to help me imagine what it means in each case.
1) Life is hell when I know I am not right with God
Sometimes the scriptures use the word "hell" to talk about the miserable state of the wicked during this life. When an angel told Alma of his wicked ways he said "Yea, I did remember all my sins and iniquities, for which I was tormented with the pains of hell;(Alma 36:13). And Nephi said "I glory in my Jesus, for he hath redeemed my soul from hell." (2 Nephi 33:6) before he had died. So hell can be a state of existence here and now.
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As a deacon I faced the same awkwardness that every teenager goes through. Trying to fit in and be "cool" is a moving target, and I'm afraid my social skills were sometimes lacking. I tried to make up for it by being funny, or pulling pranks that would make people laugh and validate my worth. I learned the hard way that "funny" should never trump over "kind".We held the opening priesthood meeting in the gym, just off to the side of the stage. It was common for the other deacons to sit on the stage and talk while they waited for the meeting to start. With legs dangling four feet off the ground they would hop down when it was time. One Sunday during the summer as I approached the group I saw my friend Jed sitting on the stage swinging his legs. If I had stepped closer he might have kicked me, but instead I reached out and grabbed his ankles.
Jed's eyes went wide and with a look of fear he tried to scoot himself back. It was a funny reaction, and the other boys commented to the effect of, "Whoa Scott! Be careful!" So I pretended to pull a little on his ankles - not enough to actually be dangerous, only enough to scare Jed. With acrobatic finesse he reached back and grabbed the curtain. That of course meant I could pull a little harder since he had something to hold on to. I would never pull hard enough to actually hurt him.
In the middle of a laugh, with a clever taunt on my lips Jed lost his grip and popped forward. I fell back, but Jed fell four feet laying down and barely caught himself with his hands. Of course I apologized, but no one was eager to hear my excuses. Jed went to his father and they left the church. By the time Deacons quorum ended word had gotten back that Jed had gone to the hospital with a broken wrist.If you can understand how I felt then you know something of the taste of hell. I could not fix it, I could not take it back, and the only option my 12 year old brain could manage was to hide. I slipped to the car as quickly as I could. I figured I couldn't possibly feel worse - Jed was one of the nicest guys in the quorum. Then at the dinner table my father and mother discussed how people at church had been talking about how one of the deacons broke his wrist. They wondered how it could have happened, and commented on how boys are always being dangerous. I just shrugged saying he hadn't gone to deacon's quorum but the meal made me feel sick.
That night I called Jed and found out it was true. He would have a cast on his hand for 2 summer months. I tried to apologize, but there was nothing to say. When I hung up I decided there was nothing that could be done. It was in the past, and I would learn my lesson and move on. I would never mention it to anyone again.
At least that was the way I planned it. The fact is that for the next three days it was on my mind at night, it was what I thought about when I woke up, and it made me want to hide all summer long. Eventually I decided I had to either burn or face it. I told my parents and they were devastated. A meeting was arranged between both families and I had to face my actions with no defense.I can understand why the scriptures would say hell burns. I can see why it would be so terrible that people will wish they had repented and never sinned. I can imagine how awful it would be to answer for a sinful life to God. While my journey through hell was not enjoyable, I use the memory to help motivate me to be more careful and kind in all areas of my life.
2) The wicked wait in hell between death and the resurrection
Sometimes the scriptures use the word "hell" for the state of those who have died, whether they are wicked or righteous, but that isn't how I use word. This doesn't mean the righteous are miserable, since Alma says, " the spirits of those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness... the spirits of the wicked...shall be cast out into outer darkness;" (Alma 40:12-13). For the wicked, life after death is a place of waiting, and the wait is horrible.
If you don't think the anticipation can be horrible then let me tell you about my sister, Julie. At the age of 19 she was getting ready to start college life and eager to go to the freshmen orientation with her friends. Since my dad is a used car salesman she had a nice vehicle to take in the garage. What she didn't realize was that my father's favorite car, a Lincoln Mark VII was sitting in the driveway. Since my dad was at work and he always used this car she didn't expect it to be there. She assumed she had the entire width of the two car driveway for backing her car out.
You can guess what happened. She broadsided the Lincoln scratching it across the driver's door and the door behind, was well as bashing in her own car. Now you must understand that a car salesman depends on his vehicles for employment. A tiny scratch can mean a car won't be sold, and with inventory as expensive as a vehicle a tiny detail could mean the difference between fixing the dishwasher or not. Naturally my father was very careful to keep his cars in perfect condition, and we all knew that to touch the car was to face dire consequences.Julie got out and saw the damage to the vehicle she was trusted with, and the damage to my father's favorite and very expensive vehicle. In terror she did exactly what any of us would have done. She fled on foot and ran all the way to the University. Both cars were left in a horrible testament to the undeniable.
At the orientation Julie found herself having a reunion with all her friends to celebrate the next step of their journey. Except Julie huddled in the middle a sobbing terrified mess. What could she do? Could she make it over the border to Mexico on foot? My father served a mission in Mexico, so escaping to Canada was the only realistic option. Should she write up a will? Were there any friends that she needed to say goodbye to? Most of all she spent those two hours trying to imagine with dread horror what the scene would be like if she went home.
The orientation ended, but Julie stayed there, her most loyal friends with her. After two more hours of doing nothing but fretting my mother located her and informed Julie she was there to bring her home. There was no more delaying the inevitable, Julie had to face her father. No matter how it turned out she had to look him in the eye and explain how she had protected the stewardship entrusted to her. And worst of all, she would need to examine the mess of cars on the driveway.
The time will come when " all men shall stand before [Christ], to be judged at the last and judgment day, according to their works." (Alma 33:22). The Lord will ask us to answer for stewardship he has entrusted to us. Before that time comes "there must needs be a space betwixt the time of death and the time of the resurrection." (Alma 40:6) This is an important time for preparation for the righteous, but it is a time of dread for the wicked. They will cry "hide us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb:" (Revelations 6:16). They will dread facing their sins as the rich man in Jesus' parable who "in hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments... And
he cried and said, Father Abraham, have mercy on me.... for I
am tormented in this flame." (Luke 16:23-24)
A feeling of burning is a good description for it. My sister's story does not end there, however. When she got home she found my father had already taken the cars away to places where they could be fixed. He hugged my sister and told her that he loved her more than he loved cars, and that he was glad she was OK. True - there is a price which must be exacted, and my sister would have an expensive price to pay, but my father would support and help her through the process. I know that God will love me and help me matter what I do, but when I think of Julie's story I commit myself to making sure the judgements of God are something I will not dread.
3) Not getting every blessing promised by God would be hell
The promises God has made to those who are righteous are unlimited. Revelation 21:7 says "He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be my son." We not only have the potential to be like God, but the command, "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect." (Matthew 5:48). The glory promised to those who receive exaltation is wonderful enough that I could fill several paragraphs just trying to describe the work and knowledge available to those who get there.
But those who do not reach that level will not want to be there. And if I were unworthy the idea of being among the exalted beings would be as loathsome as the knowledge that I was not good enough to be there. That feeling of shame and guilt would drive me out of heaven myself. It is an uncomfortable thing to imagine, but I have felt it before.
I have had several surgeries for my cleft palette, but one of the most extreme involved genuine Makita drills and jigsaws cutting out my upper jaw and screwing it into a better position, as well as cosmetic surgery on my lip to nose. As a side note to any surgeons - please do not let your patient ogle your tools right before surgery. It does not help.The goal of the surgery was two fold - it keeps my teeth in better health to have the jaw in the right place, and it improves my aesthetics. Keep in mind that I have never felt that I was attractive physically and as a 14 year old teenager (or just as a guy) that affects how I cope with the world. It is also true that the way I look affects my job performance and is related to my ability to interact socially. So while everyone agrees your personal beauty does not determine your worth, I think we can all agree that we wish we were more good looking.
So I hope you'll understand if I say that immediately after the surgery I looked worse than ever. Breaking my nose left me with two black eyes. Brightly colored stitches poked out from my upper lip like a horrid Hitler mustache. I was swollen and my jaw could not move easily which left me unable to speak much or even use facial expressions. I felt like Frankenstein on a bad day, and I spent most of my recovery time hidden in my room.
The day came when I needed to travel an hour away to St. George to get the stitches out and for a checkup. As we pulled into town my parents expressed their hunger and asked if we could stop somewhere to eat. My diet was already restricted, but I asked for a milkshake from a drive-thru. My parents decided it would be more fun to visit Frontier Pies - a "sit down" restaurant they had been wanting to try. I mumbled that I did not want to go anywhere with people, that I did not want to go inside, and that I did not want to become a public spectacle. My parents said, "Oh, Scott, you worry too much. First off there won't be anyone you know there. We'll find a quiet corner in the back and enjoy our meal without anyone knowing you're even there." After several minutes I relented.We entered a crowded waiting room and I jostled for a place to stand in the back. Those who saw me gaped as if I were a circus creature. My Dad went up the lady at the podium and told her it was a party of three. She said that for a smaller party there should be a table soon when my dad said, "Oh, but we can't have just any table. My son over there just had surgery, and he's feeling self conscious about the way he looks, so we'd like to get a table in the back if we could." You can imagine the feeling of having about 30 pairs of eyes turn to stare me to see how bad I really looked.
My mother saw my expression and asked what was the matter. I started to mumble that I felt like a spotlight had been shown on me when some ward members came through. After exclamations of surprise to find each other my parents explained to the family, "We're here because Scott has an appointment with the surgeon to get the stitches out. He had surgery on his face." Of course they then spent the next two minutes telling me just how awful I looked. I started edging towards the exit.After about 20 minutes the waitress came and told my Dad that there was a table for three ready, but it was not really in the back which means the son who had surgery wouldn't really be able to hide in the corner. That allowed anyone who had come in recently a chance to check me out. My parents said, "Well, we can keep waiting here, or we can get our food now and be on our way. There's no way to tell how long the wait will be if we don't take this. Wouldn't you like to get out of the crowded waiting room?" I had to admit I wanted out any way I could.
The table ended up being the absolute most public spot in the restaurant. It was near the entrance AND the kitchen. Everyone who came or left walked past, and all the waiters stared at least once. I spent as much time as possible with my head in my arms. My parents wondered why I felt so uncomfortable. All I did was to recall what had happened since coming in, and they apologized profusely. It didn't help.
The fact was that I did not feel socially acceptable. I did not want to be seen or to have other people around me because I did not belong - I looked weird. Those who do not live righteously will one day stand before their Heavenly Father. Their sins and flaws will be as obvious as swollen eyes and neon stitches. We may find ourselves wishing for a table in the back where we can enjoy God's presence without anyone else seeing us, but his eternal light means no one can hide in heaven's shadows. If we are not like God we will find ourselves edging towards the exit rather than explain our poor choices. We will prefer hell because it is the right place for us to be. Remembering how I felt at the restaurant reminds me to live in such a way that I will be proud to be among the angels after this life.
4) There is a special hell for those who will not accept God
The last story was an example of when I was uncomfortable, but it wasn't really my fault. It's much worse when I'm uncomfortable because my nature is opposed to where I am. Take for example baby showers. When out second child - Allie - was due Teasha's friends threw her a baby shower and several women from the ward came to visit. Teasha pleaded with me to go so that I could be there with her. What's a man supposed to say to his pregnant wife? I agreed.OooooOOOOOOoooo!! SooooOOoooo cute!
Repeat 50 times.
Per item.
Seriously. And you need to say it in the most high pitched voice possible. You know you've got it right if your voice momentarily jumps off the register for human hearing. EVERY single piece of clothing was cooed over, even though I couldn't see much difference between the yellow dress with the tie sting and the blue dress with lace. Apparently there was enough difference for each woman to shriek with renewed delight. I tried to figure out what determines the cuteness of clothing, but all I could determine was that it's inversely proportional to its size. Even if a new woman showed up at the baby shower it was obligatory for her to see each item of clothing and catch up on the squeals that she missed. Each woman was expected to react, usually with a comment like "I know - SO cute, right?" or "Oh, that's the most darling thing I have ever seen!" as if she had never been through the children's section of the store.And then the games began! It was "Guess which candy bar was melted into this diaper" followed by baby food taste testing. Afterwards the ladies began to talk, and can you guess what they choose to talk about to an expectant mother?
"I was in labor for 6 days, and I got no sleep and couldn't eat..."
"I took four doctors seven hours to stitch....""The last five months I had to hang by my toes to get any sleep..."
"They couldn't put me under anesthesia, so I suffered all night long..."
"My baby was so big doctors were sure I wouldn't survive, and I didn't want to..."
"After I passed out I apparently died, but they had to bring me back so I could finish the labor..."
Really? Is this how mothers comfort and encourage each other? I don't get it. The worst part of everything was that I needed to be "enjoying it" so that I didn't rain on Teasha's parade. That means I said, "Oooh!" with a cheesy grin at the clothing, I said "mmmm!" to the games, and then while the women shared how miserable it was to be female I furrowed my brow in deepest sympathies. My watch has never moved so slowly.
Five hours later the sun had gone down and there was still a gaggle of women discussting potty training horror stories, and I told Teasha I really ought to head home. She smiled sweetly and said, "Wasn't it great? Aren't you glad you were here? I so appreciate you being here, and if you'd like your welcome to stay longer!" On my walk home I thought about how clearly this was not my kind of place to be. If my after-life was one long baby shower I would understand "hell".
Now I'm being a little sardonic because it's funny, but the truth is those who do not want any of God's glory will find any level of heaven to be miserable. They will look at their watch and find the door and want to slip out of the light. There is a special hell reserved for those who do not want anything to do with God. They will shun the idea of righteousness and seek the darkest corners. They shall be "cast out into outer darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth." (Matthew 8:12). Now keep in mind these terms can be used to refer to other things on occasion, but whatever wording you use there is a hell for Satan and those who are fully his.
This is so awful that God said "they shall go away into everlasting punishment... to reign with the devil and his angels in eternity, —And the end thereof, neither the place thereof, nor their torment, no man knows; Neither was it revealed, neither is, neither will be revealed unto man ... I, the Lord, show it by vision unto many, but straightway shut it up again; Wherefore, the end, the width, the height, the depth, and the misery thereof, they understand not, neither any man except those who are ordained unto this condemnation." (D&C 76:44-48). It is so awful that there is no point in trying to comprehend it, only choose to not despise the light.
So hell is a confusing term because it can refer to multiple things, but my experiences in life have helped me understand what it is like to feel guilt, to be uncomfortable, and the pain of loss. I use these stories to commit to myself that I will yearn and earn the right to dwell in God's presence and join with him in bringing to pass the immortality and eternal life of others.
