Heaven, Hell, and the Choice We All Must Make
The Truth About Sin, Salvation, and Free Will
Okay, let me start by saying this: if you knew me from 2007 to 2023, you're probably reading this like, "Wait...SHE'S writing about this? Is she okay? Does she have a fever? Should we send help?" And honestly? Fair. So fair.
Because whew, if you knew me then, you'd know I was out here making decisions that had Jesus shaking His head like, "Girl...what are you doing?" I mean, I named this blog Mess and Mercy for a reason. My mess led me straight into God's mercy. And now, here I am, passionate about getting souls into Heaven and saving them from Hell. I know. Wild times.
So anyway, recently I listened to a sermon by Pastor Matt Chewning from Netcast Church, and he hit me with a question that had me sitting on my couch, eyes wide, heart racing, questioning every life decision I've ever made:
"Who goes to hell?"
When we hear the word "hell," we usually think of the absolute worst humans ever—the psychopaths, the criminals, the people who leave their grocery carts in the middle of the parking lot. But here's the gut-punch truth: good people go to hell. Yep. Lovely, kind, generous, good people.
Ouch.
That truth knocked the wind out of me. It broke my heart. Because, hi, hello, I spent the majority of my life trying to be a "good person," thinking that would get me a VIP pass into Heaven. Spoiler alert: it doesn't. Jesus isn't scanning our resumes for volunteer hours or how many times we didn't cuss in traffic. He's looking for one thing: Did we accept the gift of salvation through Him?
Pastor Matt referenced the story of the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31). The rich man lived his best life—luxury, comfort, probably sipping fancy drinks by the pool. And then he died...and ended up in hell. Lazarus, the poor, suffering man who had been begging outside his gate? He went to Heaven. The rich man, now tormented, begged for just a drop of water. Just a little hydration. And you know what he got? Nada. Because hell is eternal. No relief. No end. Forever.
If that doesn't shake you, I don’t know what will.
Now, if you're anything like I was, you're probably thinking, "Okay, but I'm a good person." I get it. I've been there. I've wrestled with that same thought while justifying every questionable decision I've ever made. My internal dialogue sounded like this:
"God knows my heart. He'll overlook this one little thing, right?"
"I mean, it was a rough week. I deserve a little sin snack."
"I'm not hurting anyone! Can't I just live my truth?"
Yeah...no. The more I pressed into my faith, the more I realized I wasn't just flirting with sin—I was in a full-blown toxic relationship with it. And sin? It's a smooth talker. It feels good for a while. But it destroys everything good that God intended for us.
And here's the kicker: God does know our hearts. And mine? YIKES. I thought I was in control, chasing temporary highs, when all along I was running from the only thing that could actually satisfy me: Jesus.
The Bible doesn't sugarcoat it: hell is real. It's not some metaphorical timeout. It's eternal separation from God. And if I'm honest? I can't even imagine that. The brief moments I feel distant from Him now—when I'm in sin or not prioritizing our relationship—are already unbearable. Eternity like that? No thanks.
And here's where things get tricky. I've agonized over how to talk about hell without sounding like one of those sign-holding street preachers yelling, "Turn or burn!" But you know what I've realized? The gospel is offensive.
Yeah, I said it. The gospel is offensive because it makes us face ourselves, our sin, our brokenness. It's like looking into a mirror that doesn't have a "soften skin" filter. It's raw. It's real. It's humbling.
But it's also the most beautiful, hopeful, life-changing truth we could ever hear. Because Jesus didn’t come to condemn us—He came to save us. From sin. From death. From ourselves.
And if I say I love my friends, my family, my people...and I don't share that truth with them? Do I really love them? If my friend had cancer and I had the cure but didn’t tell her because I didn’t want to "offend" her, what kind of friend would I be?
So yeah, this blog might feel different. It might sting. You might be side-eyeing your screen like, "Oh wow, Amber thinks she's all holy now." I promise you, I don’t. I’m just a hot mess who met a merciful God and now I can't shut up about it.
Jesus saved me. And I want that for you too. Not because I'm better than you—trust me, my receipts from the past would say otherwise—but because I know how empty life feels without Him.
So if this offends you, I get it. I was offended too...until I realized the truth. And that truth? It changed everything.
And if you’re sitting there thinking, "Yeah, but I'm a good person," I hear you. But being good doesn't get you into Heaven. Jesus does. And He's right here, ready to welcome you in.
If you don't know Jesus and want to, please reach out to me. I'd love to connect and talk more about this. Or if you disagree with me, I'm happy to have a conversation too. Let's talk about it with love, grace, and honesty.
You just have to say yes.
With love (and a whole lot of humility),
Amber