"Condemnation!" Such a terrifying word. Mozart is said to have written his entire "Requiem," owing to his morbid fear of going to Hell.

Jesus spoke more about Hell than any other person in the Scriptures. It is of interest to note, however, that while the word "perish" occurs in the Gospel of John five times, the word, "Hell" or its equivalent is not found -- it is only in the synoptic gospels. "Perish" is more consistent with the word "destroyed," which by definition, cannot mean eternal punishment. Wonder why, if Jesus spoke so much about eternal punishment in Hell, that John does not mention it?

And since faith is a gift from God, how is it that we are condemned for not being given a gift? Or, for that matter, condemned for not receiving a gift? When we give something to someone and they say, "No thanks," do we condemn them? Not polite.

Com'on now. Are people really going to burn in hell, blistering on top of blistering, screaming, screaming, screaming in morbid, terrible agony for the rest of eternity??? What kind of God would do that to people? A God of love?

You're wondering where this is going, aren't you?

I got burned once. Actually twice. Memories of these two events "burned" themselves into my brain as well.

First time: I was a little kid. Growing up in Atlanta in the 40's, the winters were cold and the only heat we had in the house was a coal-burning stove in the living room. This wasn't Montana cold, or Alaska cold, but cold enough for a little kid taking a bath in an unheated bathroom, shivering like the dickens when he got out of a tub of hot water filling the bathroom with steam, and trying to dry off.

So he runs naked into the living room to stand next to the stove to dry off. You guessed it. I backed my little white butt against the stove and got a blister the size of a silver dollar on my posterior. The pain was indescribable and I was inconsolable. My sister tried putting butter on it. Didn't help. Then she tried holding a raw potato against it. Didn't help. That's what you did to burns in the 40's, but it didn't help. I could have sworn I heard the butter sizzle/crackle like it does when you put it in a hot frying pan. Nobody got much sleep that night. It hurt like . . . well, you know . . .

Second time: The grease in the frying pan on the stove caught fire; flames shooting up 1-2 feet, smoke billowing. Hero instinct kicks in. I grab the flaming frying pan by its handle and move toward the back door. Just before I reach the sliding glass door, the cat decides to walk between my legs. In the confusion, I somehow manage to get the door open and the outside breeze rushes in blowing the flames back over my exposed hand. Warm! I get the sudden urge to get that frying pan outside as fast as I can and pushed it abruptly through the door. Hot, flaming grease splashes back over my hand. Skin peels back like salt on a slug, pain, Pain, PAIN! I drop the frying pan, flames, grease and all on the concrete stoop -- fortunately -- outside the door.

911 called. Wife told to put ice on the burn. She gets ice cubes. Pain exacerbates when she tries to put ice cubes on the burn. Stepson runs up to the kitchen from downstairs. Grabs my arm and twists the watchband until it breaks off. Fire department arrives. Engine company, two ambulances and a helicopter. Firemen everywhere. Big guys with heavy coats and helmets. They see the ice cubes sitting on the counter. My face is turning gray. "We need a large container, a bowl, something," one of them says. My wife produces a large Tupperware mixing bowl. Fireman pours ice into the bowl and puts it under the water tap. "More ice!" he demands. Freezer door opens, more ice. Fireman grabs my hand and plunges it into the ice-cold water. DEAR GOD! WHAT RELIEF!

Ride to the hospital in the back of the ambulance, red and blue lights flashing, siren wailing . . . takes not less than three years.

I know, I know, I know. I bungled it. I should have just put a lid on the frying pan, or thrown flour or sand or something. I should have used the fire extinguisher. I should have, I should have, I should have . . . OK!!!! So I bungle things once in a while. Go ahead, condemn me if it makes you feel superior.

The cat? You're wondering about the cat? His name was, "Bags." We had him neutered, after which our son called him, "Bagless." The cat escaped with eight of his lives remaining, like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego -- without so much as the smell of smoke; not even a singed whisker!

The hand took over a year to heal; to grow new skin, to grow new webbing between the thumb and forefinger. Today, when I am outside, I can feel the tingle of the sun's rays on the back of my hand, reminding me of what happens when . . . stupidity kicks in.

I can't speak for others, I can only speak for myself. That's all any of us can do, really. None of us have any business at all deciding for God who goes where. Not our call. It's not our call!

Some have concluded that the Bible teaches universal and unlimited grace (Jacques Ellul). Part of me would like to believe that. But if that is true, then why did Jesus talk so much about hell? On the other hand, I can think of more than a few people who, in my humble opinion, deserve to spend eternity in the frying pan grease. But if that is true, why did Jesus talk so much about God's love and forgiveness? Why did he talk so much about saving the whole world?

I can tell you this from personal experience, if hell is real, I definitely want to go to the other place!

This gift of God is wholly dissimilar to what happened because of Adam's sin. You see, the judgment that came upon his sin brought death and condemnation. Conversely, instead of judgment, the gift of God came upon innumerable sins -- the sins of all mankind -- and instead of death and condemnation, this gift brought justification.

Now -- if death came by the sin of one man, how much more will God's abundant provision of life and the gift of righteousness come by the grace of Jesus Christ?

So through the disobedience of Adam we all were made sinners, so also through the obedience of Jesus we all are made righteous.

And that, my friend, is where this piece would like to take you. Remember -- No ice water in Hell.

-- PDM

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