What do think of when you think of hell? Fire? The devil? A big party? Do you even think that such a place exists?
Hell is one of those things that we don't want to think about. I think it's because we think of hell as a place we'll end up if we do too many bad things, if we swear too often, or if we make serious mistakes. And really, who would want to dwell on the thought of eternal punishment? (But then again how many in my generation really want to contemplate anything involving an afterlife or God? They often brush off the idea of hell as one big party). Hell, I feel, is a natural subject to avoid.
Hell is not a place of fire that God sends you to. Hell is simply the absence of God's love. That's why in Dante's hell Satan was placed upside down encased in ice, far away from the warmth of God's love. Satan wasn't put there by God, he chose to go there, the place furthest away from God's love.
So why then is hell considered the place for everyone that's screwed up even in the slightest way? Where does this thought come from? Was it the midevial church? Was it just human nature to assume that some punishment must exist from a higher power? Was it the idea of the wrathful God of the Old Testament that sparked this? Or the translation about the burning garbage dumps outside of Jersulem in the New testament? Or perhaps a combination of all of them laid the base for this modern definition of hell? But the better question is why do we still believe this?
The usual consensus by a lot of "stricter" Christians I've come across is that without Jesus in this lifetime you're condemned to hell. I'm sorry but this, to me, is absolute bull. I understand the need to evangelize and I respect it, even though it's often done in a way I don't agree with. But honestly, would an all-loving God create a place for you to suffer? Would he put you there for something you've done but are sorry for?
The Answer: A resounding, logical no. Because:
1) God does NOT send people to hell. And God did not "create" hell. I'll repeat myself again: hell is the absence of God. That's right, God gave us this thing, I'm sure you've heard of it before, it's called free will. We, as his creation, have the freedom to choose. If we decided to turn from God (not a religion, but God), than we will be without Him. Hell is a choice we make.
2) God is a God of second chances and forgiveness. From what I've learned and come to believe, God knows a sincere heart when he sees one. That's right, if we are truely sorry and truly want live with God, in his light, God can forgive us. (I'm not Him so I can't say for a fact that He will, I can only say what I feel and know to be true).
3)We will be sorry, repent, and wish to be forgiven on the final judgement day. I believe that when God reveals Himself, even those on Earth that turned away from Him, or were never introduced to Him will want to be with Him. By seeing Him, the Truth will be revealed and our eyes will be opened. We will be able to see. And I find it hard to believe that many will turn away once they see.
And those who see God, but still do not want to be with Him, will live without Him. They will exist in the absence of God and His love, hell. For God gave us the choice and will not force us to live in His love with Him if we do not want to.
March 21, 2010
March 17, 2010
Dear Stranger, I Love You.
My father gives usually boring, rambling, and repetitive lectures. But one stands out in my mind amongst almost all the others. It was something he had told me once about love.
He said he loved my mother, God, his brother, my sister, his business partner, me, and that random stranger on the street equally. He loved us all the same. There was no difference he said, no different magnitude. Love is unconditional and unmeasurable.
I was baffled by this. I simply could not understand it. As we all experience at some point in our lives, I simply thought that my father was simply wrong. It was simply his way of viewing the world, just another of his crazy philosophies and ideas. But I learned over time that he was right.
You cannot measure love, nor should you try. You shouldn't try to give love in different quantities. Love simply does not work that way, it's properties do not allow it to. Love was meant for everyone in this life, including enemies. To me, God is Love. We share God when we love. God does not hold back. God does not love you more than I, or more than that man on the street corner.
Kate once asked me if I believed I could love someone that I'd never met before, someone that I'd never see again, someone that I only locked eyes with once. My answer was yes, you can love them. You might know them better than anyone else with just that one soul piercing look. It reveals so much. There isn't any way to describe it. It simply is. You see them. You see their life. And you love that life.
He said he loved my mother, God, his brother, my sister, his business partner, me, and that random stranger on the street equally. He loved us all the same. There was no difference he said, no different magnitude. Love is unconditional and unmeasurable.
I was baffled by this. I simply could not understand it. As we all experience at some point in our lives, I simply thought that my father was simply wrong. It was simply his way of viewing the world, just another of his crazy philosophies and ideas. But I learned over time that he was right.
You cannot measure love, nor should you try. You shouldn't try to give love in different quantities. Love simply does not work that way, it's properties do not allow it to. Love was meant for everyone in this life, including enemies. To me, God is Love. We share God when we love. God does not hold back. God does not love you more than I, or more than that man on the street corner.
Kate once asked me if I believed I could love someone that I'd never met before, someone that I'd never see again, someone that I only locked eyes with once. My answer was yes, you can love them. You might know them better than anyone else with just that one soul piercing look. It reveals so much. There isn't any way to describe it. It simply is. You see them. You see their life. And you love that life.
March 14, 2010
4AM Phone Calls
The other night was an interesting night. Or should I say, the other morning was interesting. The clocks "sprung" forward at midnight. I had a flight out at 8AM. At quarter to three I checked the time on my cell phone to find a text message from someone not on my contact list. It was Adam, my ex. I'm way to good at remembering numbers. All it asked was if I was awake. My mind immediately spun into confusion, my eyes flooded with tears. What was this? Why after two months was he suddenly texting me? So I responded back, that I was awake and asked why he was texting me.
He proceeded to leave a series of texts that made no sense at all. The first one was: "because I'm going insane. do not listen to anything I say. I am not in control. I don't know what I'm doing." Followed by: "I'm sorry I can't say what I am even now when I:killed everything is this happening?" If he drank at all I'd say that he was drunk. But he doesn't. I was literally shaking and in tears. One of the messages was: "why did I do to us?" It was so painful to read. I had no idea why he was texting me, if he was sorry, if he wanted me back, if he was suicidal, if he was going crazy, or if he just needed someone to listen. He sent me a text saying that he'd scratched himself and that there's some blood. I decided that the best thing I can do is talk to him and make sure he's okay. So I dialed.
After several rings he picked up. "Hello, I think I'm dreaming..." I talked to him for a minute asking if he was at home or at school, and if he was physically okay; how much blood was there? He answered and then a moment later, "is this Noelle, I think I'm dreaming...?" We talked for probably about an hour. Correction, I say "talked", it was more like me trying to gauge how out of it he was and him rambling about depression, self anger, hopelessness, and loneliness. I'd seen him down before, and in a similar mood. But this was beyond what I had heard from him before. He always denied problems with himself. He always said he just needed to work harder, be less selfish, pray more, and pull through. I agreed but also thought this was stupid. If you need help, you need help. No amount of "pulling through" can happen in some situations.
I'd say he's in one of those situations. He definitely has moderate depression. I'm no psychologist, but I was told I was depressed and had anxiety just this past Christmas. The low dose medication I'm on has literally made one of the largest differences in my life. He was the one that encouraged me to get help. But he is by far worse off than I. He's not losing weight, but he's eating less he told me. He's scratching himself till he bleeds. He is an architecture student, and not a great student, but a hard worker. He doesn't get a wink of sleep. I'd say he pulls two almost (if not complete) all nighters a week. When he has the opportunity to sleep, he usually can't. So he's sleep deprived and depressed.
After I hung up with him I called his folks. Yes, at four in the morning. They often wake up around 5. I was seriously concerned. I spoke with his father, who didn't seem as concerned as I thought or felt one should be. But he was serious and logical, calm and collected, which probably the best. Hopefully he'll be able to convince him to get help.
I thought I'd leave the conversation and the whole ordeal confused about my feelings for him. And I did, but only a very little. I still love him. But more like a close friend or brother. He'd need to pull a hell of a lot together in order for me to consider him romantically again. It just isn't possible, both logically and emotionally, to be with someone in such a state. And he was sliding into it while we were dating. I just don't want him to be in such a bad place, I want to help him out. It's so relieving to know how I feel though. Not having contact sort of distorts things.
He proceeded to leave a series of texts that made no sense at all. The first one was: "because I'm going insane. do not listen to anything I say. I am not in control. I don't know what I'm doing." Followed by: "I'm sorry I can't say what I am even now when I:killed everything is this happening?" If he drank at all I'd say that he was drunk. But he doesn't. I was literally shaking and in tears. One of the messages was: "why did I do to us?" It was so painful to read. I had no idea why he was texting me, if he was sorry, if he wanted me back, if he was suicidal, if he was going crazy, or if he just needed someone to listen. He sent me a text saying that he'd scratched himself and that there's some blood. I decided that the best thing I can do is talk to him and make sure he's okay. So I dialed.
After several rings he picked up. "Hello, I think I'm dreaming..." I talked to him for a minute asking if he was at home or at school, and if he was physically okay; how much blood was there? He answered and then a moment later, "is this Noelle, I think I'm dreaming...?" We talked for probably about an hour. Correction, I say "talked", it was more like me trying to gauge how out of it he was and him rambling about depression, self anger, hopelessness, and loneliness. I'd seen him down before, and in a similar mood. But this was beyond what I had heard from him before. He always denied problems with himself. He always said he just needed to work harder, be less selfish, pray more, and pull through. I agreed but also thought this was stupid. If you need help, you need help. No amount of "pulling through" can happen in some situations.
I'd say he's in one of those situations. He definitely has moderate depression. I'm no psychologist, but I was told I was depressed and had anxiety just this past Christmas. The low dose medication I'm on has literally made one of the largest differences in my life. He was the one that encouraged me to get help. But he is by far worse off than I. He's not losing weight, but he's eating less he told me. He's scratching himself till he bleeds. He is an architecture student, and not a great student, but a hard worker. He doesn't get a wink of sleep. I'd say he pulls two almost (if not complete) all nighters a week. When he has the opportunity to sleep, he usually can't. So he's sleep deprived and depressed.
After I hung up with him I called his folks. Yes, at four in the morning. They often wake up around 5. I was seriously concerned. I spoke with his father, who didn't seem as concerned as I thought or felt one should be. But he was serious and logical, calm and collected, which probably the best. Hopefully he'll be able to convince him to get help.
I thought I'd leave the conversation and the whole ordeal confused about my feelings for him. And I did, but only a very little. I still love him. But more like a close friend or brother. He'd need to pull a hell of a lot together in order for me to consider him romantically again. It just isn't possible, both logically and emotionally, to be with someone in such a state. And he was sliding into it while we were dating. I just don't want him to be in such a bad place, I want to help him out. It's so relieving to know how I feel though. Not having contact sort of distorts things.
March 6, 2010
Alzheimer's
One of my greatest fears is forgetting. Forgetting my life with all of it's beauty and all of the struggles. That scares me half to death. Memories are what make me who I am at this very moment. I feel as if there are several parts to me as a whole person.
One is the physical skin I'm in; the stuff that always surprises me when I look into the mirror. To be frank, I forget it's there. I view myself through my eyes, I can never actually see this face that holds these eyes. It's simply impossible. I can only view videos, photos, and my image in the mirror. It's such an odd disconnect. Does anyone else view it this way?
I feel constructed of pieced together memories and old feelings sometimes. As if they're a separate part of me. They aren't just neural signals located in my brain, but invisible tattoos that cover all of me, with more always being added.
Lastly, my soul is the real me, the core I suppose: all that really will stay in the long run. It exist somewhere within, somewhere I can never really place. It is connected to my physical body for now, and reads each one of my tattoos and recognizes them. When my body is left behind it will remember it and remember the tattoos, but it will be free.
Earthy things don't matter in the long run. But they cause so much hurt and so much love and so much joy and so much pain here in the physical realm. And I feel that my soul and this world do have a connection. My soul will remember this, my soul will be cut by this world and left with thin scars. It will be ultimately healed by God. But there's still part of me that feels that my scars should remain, as a memory of how things were, as a comparison of how good things are. Perhaps they won't, perhaps God will wipe me clean and pure. I trust He knows which is better.
One is the physical skin I'm in; the stuff that always surprises me when I look into the mirror. To be frank, I forget it's there. I view myself through my eyes, I can never actually see this face that holds these eyes. It's simply impossible. I can only view videos, photos, and my image in the mirror. It's such an odd disconnect. Does anyone else view it this way?
I feel constructed of pieced together memories and old feelings sometimes. As if they're a separate part of me. They aren't just neural signals located in my brain, but invisible tattoos that cover all of me, with more always being added.
Lastly, my soul is the real me, the core I suppose: all that really will stay in the long run. It exist somewhere within, somewhere I can never really place. It is connected to my physical body for now, and reads each one of my tattoos and recognizes them. When my body is left behind it will remember it and remember the tattoos, but it will be free.
Earthy things don't matter in the long run. But they cause so much hurt and so much love and so much joy and so much pain here in the physical realm. And I feel that my soul and this world do have a connection. My soul will remember this, my soul will be cut by this world and left with thin scars. It will be ultimately healed by God. But there's still part of me that feels that my scars should remain, as a memory of how things were, as a comparison of how good things are. Perhaps they won't, perhaps God will wipe me clean and pure. I trust He knows which is better.
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