Consuming Fire, Unquenched Torment: The Traditional View of Hell Reexamined

Preface

About two weeks ago, I received a call from my sister. Immediately upon answering the phone she seemed very frustrated. You see she attends a Christian college with a lot of theology students and has just witnessed what they have been not just learning but also teaching. A doctrine known as Universalism.

This doctrine stands in stark contrast to the more traditional doctrine of hell called Eternal Conscious Torment or ECT for short. Universalism in the simplest sense is the belief that all souls will eventually be reconciled to God, and is often associated with thinkers like Origen.

That said, my sister has been seeing this issue of Universalism sweeping its way through Universities and Seminaries for some time now. She thought that I should write an article defending the traditional doctrine of Hell. With that said this preface is done, now let’s get into the article.

Introduction: The Problem of Hell

The doctrine of hell as eternal conscious torment has long stirred debate within Christianity, with critics questioning how a loving God, who desires that none should perish (2 Peter 3:9), could consign souls to unending suffering for choices made in a finite lifetime. This objection, often framed emotionally, challenges believers to reconcile divine justice with divine mercy. To address this, we must turn to Scripture, examining the nature of the human soul, the reality of hell, and how they are all interconnected. By exploring Jesus’ teachings, particularly the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, alongside theological and philosophical insights, we will defend the traditional view of hell as a self-chosen state rooted in the rejection of God’s love, emphasizing its biblical foundation and logical coherence.

Scriptural Foundations: The Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus

The cornerstone of the traditional view of hell as eternal conscious torment lies in Jesus’ parable of the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19–31), a narrative that vividly illustrates the eternal consequences of earthly choices. Set against the backdrop of Jesus’ disputes with the Pharisees, this parable presents two men whose lives and afterlives diverge starkly. The rich man, adorned in purple and fine linen, lives in opulent luxury, feasting daily while ignoring Lazarus, a beggar covered in sores who lies at his gate, longing for scraps. Upon their deaths, their fates reverse: angels carry Lazarus to “Abraham’s side,” a place of comfort and communion, while the rich man finds himself in Hades, engulfed in tormenting flames.

In his anguish, the rich man cries out to Abraham, pleading for mercy—first, for Lazarus to dip his finger in water to cool his tongue, and later, for Lazarus to be sent to warn his five brothers to avoid his fate. Abraham’s responses are: a great chasm, fixed and impassable, separates the realms of comfort and torment, preventing any crossing. Furthermore, Abraham declares that the brothers have “Moses and the prophets” to guide them, and even a miraculous sign—someone rising from the dead—would not persuade those who reject Scripture’s truth. The parable concludes with this note, showing the sufficiency of God’s revelation.

There are several exegetical observations that can help deepen our understanding of the parable’s implications for hell. First, the naming of Lazarus, meaning “God is my help,” which contrasts sharply with the rich man’s anonymity, a deliberate inversion of cultural norms. In first-century Judea, wealth was often seen as a sign of divine favor, and the wealthy were named and honored, while the poor were overlooked. By naming Lazarus and leaving the rich man unidentified, Jesus subverts this hierarchy, emphasizing the dignity of the sick and poor and exposing the spiritual bankruptcy of self-reliance. Presbyterian pastor Tim Keller notes, this naming reflects God’s intimate knowledge of those who trust in Him, while the rich man’s anonymity signals his estrangement from divine communion.

Second, the rich man’s behavior in Hades reveals his unchanged heart. Even in torment, he views Lazarus as a servant to command, requesting that he serve him with water or act as a messenger to his brothers. This persistence of his earthly mindset, marked by entitlement and self-absorption, demonstrates that hell does not reform but perpetuates the soul’s chosen alignment. His plea for his brothers, while seemingly generous, shifts the blame to God, implying he lacked sufficient warning to avoid his fate. Yet Abraham’s response counters this: the Scriptures (“Moses and the prophets”) provide ample guidance, and willful ignorance, not lack of evidence, seals one’s destiny.

The parable’s context provids and even greater weight. Jesus directs it at the Pharisees, described as “lovers of money” who scoffed at His teachings on stewardship (Luke 16:14). The rich man mirrors their legalistic pride and materialism, trusting in wealth and status rather than God. Cross-references bolster the parable’s teaching on hell’s reality. Matthew 25:41–46 speaks of “eternal fire” and “eternal punishment” for those who neglect the needy, echoing the rich man’s failure toward Lazarus. Mark 9:43–48 describes hell as a place where “the fire is not quenched,” reinforcing its enduring nature. Revelation 14:9–11, with its imagery of torment “forever and ever,” aligns with the parable’s depiction of unending suffering, collectively affirming the traditional view.

Moreover, the parable’s use of “Hades” (Greek) rather than “Gehenna” or “Sheol” suggests a specific theological intent. Hades, in Jewish thought, often referenced the intermediate state of the dead awaiting final judgment, yet here it portrays conscious torment, implying that the rich man’s fate is a foretaste of eternal consequences. The “great chasm” symbolizes the irreversibility of this state, a theme echoed in Hebrews 9:27, which states that “it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment.” Thus, the parable not only supports eternal conscious torment but also underscores the urgency of aligning one’s life with God’s will before death.

The Nature of Hell: Metaphorical Fire and Spiritual Anguish

The traditional view which again posits hell as a state of eternal conscious torment, but the “fire” described in Scripture, such as in Luke 16:24, is widely understood as metaphorical rather than literal. Theologian John Blanchard argues that hell’s imagery, fire in some passages (e.g., Matthew 13:50), darkness in others (e.g., Matthew 8:12, 22:13), is evidence of symbolic language used to convey a reality beyond physical sensation. Fire and darkness, seemingly contradictory, point to a unified truth: hell is the profound spiritual suffering of a soul severed from God, its true source of life. This metaphorical fire represents something far worse than physical pain: the torment of an identity built on fleeting things, wealth, status, or self that collapses in eternity.

The parable of the rich man and Lazarus illustrates this vividly. The rich man’s torment is not merely external but internal, rooted in the disintegration of his self-constructed identity. His wealth, which defined him in life, is gone, leaving only the agony of what C.S. Lewis calls “a demand for infinite satisfaction from a finite object.” Theologians like Darrell Bock and Clay Jones describe this as “continual pain and grief, especially mental pain,” akin to the anguish of addiction or unfulfilled desires. The rich man’s ability to converse coherently with Abraham, rather than scream in physical agony, underscores this spiritual dimension. His suffering stems from regret, isolation, and the realization that his choices have eternal consequences, yet he remains unrepentant, clinging to his old mindset.

This mental and spiritual anguish aligns with other scriptural depictions of hell. In Matthew 8:12, Jesus speaks of the “outer darkness” where there is “weeping and gnashing of teeth,” evoking despair and frustration rather than literal burning. Jude 1:13 describes the fate of the wicked as “the blackness of darkness forever,” emphasizing separation from God’s light. Revelation 14:11’s “smoke of their torment” suggests a persistent, gnawing awareness of loss, not just physical torture. These varied images collectively point to a state of existential torment, where the soul, created for communion with God, experiences the torment of its self-imposed exile.

The metaphorical nature of hell’s fire finds further support in theological reflection. The Orthodox Church, for instance, posits that God’s presence, described as a “consuming fire” (Hebrews 12:29) and “unapproachable light” (1 Timothy 6:16) are the same reality experienced differently: as joy by those who love Him and as torment by those who reject Him. The rich man’s suffering, then, is not God inflicting arbitrary punishment but the natural consequence of his lifelong rejection of Gods love. His neglect of Lazarus reflects a deeper neglect of God, as Jesus equates care for the poor with devotion to Him (Matthew 25:40). This spiritual fire burns because the soul, designed for eternal communion, finds only emptiness when anchored to temporal idols.

The analogy of addiction can help clarifie this torment. An addict builds their identity around a substance or pursuit for example drugs, status, or relationships each of these pursuits promises fulfillment but delivers bondage. When the object of their devotion fails, they face denial, blame-shifting, and isolation, again mirroring that of the rich man’s behavior in Hades. His plea for relief and his concern for his brothers, while again seemingly noble, reveal a refusal to confront his own culpability, perpetuating his anguish. As previously mentioned theologian Clay Jones notes, hell’s pain is “the grief of a life misspent,” where the soul’s craving for meaning, while yet adrift from God, becomes its own punishment.

This understanding counters objections that eternal torment is disproportionate to finite sins. The fire of hell is not an external penalty but the internal consequence of a soul eternally at odds with its Creator. As Søren Kierkegaard suggests, the despair of sin lies in refusing to be the self God intends, a refusal that, without repentance, persists forever. The rich man’s torment, therefore, is not God overreaction but the outworking of his freely chosen identity, magnified across eternity.

The Nature of Sin: Beyond Rule-Breaking

The traditional definition of sin as breaking God’s law (1 John 3:4) captures an essential truth but falls short of its full depth, particularly in the context of eternal consequences. In the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, Jesus reveals sin not merely as isolated acts of disobedience but as a misorientation of the human soul. Søren Kierkegaard, in his work The Sickness Unto Death, offers an eye opening insight: sin is building one’s identity on anything other than God, even if one adheres to religious practices or moral codes. This perspective reveals the rich man’s plight and the Pharisees’ error, by framing sin as a spiritual condition that leads to the torment of hell if unaddressed.

Kierkegaard argues that the human self is designed to rest in God, finding its true identity in relation to its Creator. Sin, then, is a form of despair, a refusal to be the self God intends, either by elevating oneself above God (pride) or by clinging to lesser things for meaning (idolatry). The rich man embodies this despair. His wealth, status, and self-indulgence defined him in life, as seen in his daily feasts and indifference to Lazarus at his gate (Luke 16:19–21). Yet these finite pursuits could not sustain his soul, which was created for eternal communion with God. In Hades, stripped of his earthly props, his identity collapses, leaving only the anguish of a life misaligned with its true purpose.

This deeper understanding of sin shows Jesus’ critique of the Pharisees, the parable’s primary audience, described as “lovers of money” who scoffed at His teachings (Luke 16:14). The Pharisees prided themselves on meticulous adherence to the Law, viewing their righteousness and wealth as signs of Gods favor. Yet Jesus exposes their sin: their moral performance and material success were not rooted in love for God but in self-fulfillment, making their identity fragile and self-centered. As Tim Keller observes, the Pharisees’ wealth and status became their “functional savior,” displacing God as the source of their worth and security. The rich man mirrors this, trusting in his riches rather than in God’s mercy, a choice that leads to eternal torment.

Scripture reinforces this broader view of sin. Romans 1:21–25 describes humanity’s foundational sin as exchanging “the glory of the immortal God” for idols. This exchange is not about worshiping statues but about anchoring one’s heart to anything less than God, whether wealth, power, or self-righteousness. The rich man’s neglect of Lazarus reflects this idolatry, prioritizing his own comfort over God’s command to love his neighbor (Leviticus 19:18; Matthew 22:39). His sin is not just a failure to act charitably but a rejection of the Gods image in Lazarus, and thus of God Himself (Matthew 25:40).

The analogy of addiction vividly illustrates this dynamic. Sin operates like an addiction, where individuals become consumed by their chosen “highest good” weather that be wealth, status, career, relationships, or even religious performance. Just as an addict builds their life around a substance that promises fulfillment but delivers bondage, the sinner constructs their identity on a temporary foundation that will inevitably crumble. The rich man’s feasts and fine garments were his addiction, feeding his ego but starving his soul. When death stripped him of these, his sense of self disintegrated, creating a “spiritual fire” that burns in Hades because his heart remains tethered to what is lost.

This addictive nature of sin explains its eternal consequences. As C.S. Lewis notes, sin is not a static act but a trajectory, where habits of heart and mind solidify over time. The rich man’s indifference to Lazarus was not a one-time lapse but a lifestyle of self-absorption, reinforced daily until it defined him. James 1:15 warns that “sin when it is fully grown brings forth death,” suggesting a cumulative process that, without repentance, leads to spiritual ruin. Similarly, Galatians 6:7–8 contrasts sowing to the flesh, which reaps corruption, with sowing to the Spirit, which yields eternal life. The rich man sowed to his fleshly desires, and his torment is the harvest of an identity divorced from God.

The Pharisees, as religious examples, highlight a subtler form of this sin. Their legalism including but not limited to fasting, tithing, and public piety (Matthew 23:23–28) where not inherently wrong but became sinful when it served their ego rather than God. Jesus calls them “whitewashed tombs,” outwardly righteous but inwardly corrupt, because their identity rested on performance, not devotion (Matthew 23:27). This moralistic idolatry is as damning as the rich man’s materialism, for both displace God as the soul’s center.

Theological voices like Peter Kreeft and Clay Jones further clarify this. Kreeft describes sin as “choosing the wrong infinite,” seeking in finite things the fulfillment only God can provide. The rich man chose wealth as his infinite, and its loss in death left him in despair. Jones likens sin to a cancer, growing unchecked until it consumes the soul, a process that continues into eternity if not healed by grace. These insights underscore why sin merits eternal consequences: it is not an infraction but an outright rebellion against the soul’s design, choosing a lie over the truth of God’s sufficiency.

This reinforced definition of sin counters objections that eternal torment is disproportionate to finite acts. If sin were only rule-breaking, the critique might hold. But as Kierkegaard’s framework reveals, sin is an ongoing state of self-alienation, persisting beyond death unless redirected to God. The rich man’s torment is not punishment for isolated deeds but the natural outcome of an identity that cannot coexist with God’s holy presence. His refusal to love God and neighbor, rooted in his idolization of wealth, becomes an eternal barrier, not because God is vengeful but because the soul’s chosen orientation endures.

Hell as Self-Chosen: The Lock from Within

C.S. Lewis’ evocative imagery saying “the doors of hell are locked from the inside”, funny enough this is a quote a lot of the students my sister referenced leaned on and used to promote Universalism. Which is funny because I’m gonna use it to help us capture the heart of the traditional view: hell is not God casting souls into torment but the inevitable result of rejecting His love for a self-defined identity. In the parable, the rich man’s actions in Hades reveal this choice. He never begs to leave his torment, only to ease his suffering with a drop of water or to send Lazarus to warn his brothers (Luke 16:24–28). His requests reflect a persistent attachment to his earthly status, viewing Lazarus as a servant and deflecting responsibility for his fate. This refusal to surrender his identity underscores that hell is a state of self-imposed exile, where the soul prefers its misery to the humility of divine grace.

Scripture reinforces this perspective. Revelation 16:9–11 depicts sinners under divine judgment cursing God rather than repenting, choosing defiance over submission even in suffering. Similarly, John 3:19 states that “people loved the darkness rather than the light because their deeds were evil,” suggesting a deliberate preference for separation from God. The rich man’s silence on seeking escape from Hades mirrors this, implying that his heart remains fixed on his old self.

The Orthodox Christian tradition deepens this understanding, proposing that hell’s “fire” is God’s love itself, experienced as torment by those who reject it and as bliss by those who embrace it. Hebrews 12:29 describes God as a “consuming fire,” and 1 Timothy 6:16 speaks of Him dwelling in “unapproachable light.” For those who cling to pride, wealth, or autonomy God’s holy presence becomes unbearable, not because it changes but because their hearts do not. As Philosopher Peter Kreeft notes, hell is “the greatest compliment God pays to human freedom,” allowing individuals to choose their eternal state, even if that choice leads to anguish. The rich man’s torment, then, is the outworking of a soul that would rather endure suffering than relinquish its self-sovereignty, locking itself within its own despair.

Illustrations of Hell’s Reality

The analogy of addiction vividly illustrates hell’s nature. Like an addict consumed by drugs or status, individuals center their lives on something that ultimately destroys them. Denial, blame-shifting, and isolation all of which are evident in the rich man’s behavior, mirror this spiritual state. C.S. Lewis’ The Great Divorce further clarifies this through a dialogue between souls in heaven and hell. One character, a mother, clings to her obsessive love for her son, refusing God’s love because she sees Him only as a means to her desire. Her torment is self-imposed, as she prioritizes her flawed identity over communion with God.

Why Hell Exists: Freedom and Eternal Stakes

Hell exists because God respects human free will. As Peter Kreeft argues, forcing people to love Him would negate genuine relationship. Those who choose to worship something other than God forge their own “hell” by rejecting His intended purpose for them. Lewis notes that traits like jealousy or pride, seemingly minor in a 70-year lifespan, could become “absolute hell” over eternity if unchecked. Hell is thus the culmination of a trajectory begun in life, where one’s chosen identity either aligns with God or torment.

Scripturally, Matthew 7:13–14 warns that the path to life is narrow, and few find it, implying that many choose otherwise. The fixed chasm in the parable (Luke 16:26) underscores the permanence of this choice, not because God is unwilling to forgive but because the soul’s rejection of Him becomes eternally entrenched.

Addressing Misconceptions: Knowledge and Fear

A frequent misconception is that people are condemned to hell solely for not hearing the gospel, implying an unfair divine judgment based on ignorance. Jesus’ teachings refute this. In John 9:41, He tells the Pharisees, “If you were blind, you would have no guilt; but now that you say, ‘We see,’ your guilt remains,” indicating that accountability hinges on rejecting known truth. Similarly, John 15:22 states, “If I had not come and spoken to them, they would not have been guilty of sin, but now they have no excuse for their sin.” These verses suggest that God judges based on the revolution each person receives, whether through Scripture, conscience, or creation (Romans 1:19–20).

This principle extends to those who never hear the gospel explicitly. Romans 2:14–15 describes Gentiles who “do by nature things required by the law,” showing that conscience can reflect God’s moral order. While the gospel clarifies salvation through Christ (Acts 4:12), withholding it does not automatically damn or save, each person chooses their response to the truth they encounter. The parable underscores this: the rich man’s fate stems not from ignorance but from willful neglect of God’s commands to love his neighbor, evident in his indifference to Lazarus.

Another misconception is that fear of hell can produce genuine faith, a notion the parable dismantles. The rich man’s request to send Lazarus to warn his brothers so they repent, this is dismissed by Abraham: “If they do not hear Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead” (Luke 16:31). This reveals that fear alone cannot transform the heart. Fear-based morality fosters self-centeredness, obeying to avoid punishment rather than loving God for His sake. Such an approach perpetuates the spiritual fire of sin, as it prioritizes self-preservation over surrender. Jesus’ critique of the Pharisees shows this: their outward piety masked a heart driven by pride, not devotion (Matthew 23:27–28). Keller notes, true faith arises from beholding God’s beauty, not fleeing His wrath. The parable’s emphasis on “Moses and the prophets” points to a faith rooted in God’s revealed love, not terror, aligning with 1 John 4:18: “Perfect love casts out fear.”

These clarifications address emotional objections to hell’s justice. God’s judgment is neither arbitrary nor coercive but respects human responsibility. The rich man’s torment reflects his rejection of the revolution he had, not a lack of information or an overreliance on fear.

The Solution: The Cross and Transformative Love

The only escape from the soul’s “fire” is the transformative love of Jesus, revealed on the cross. Isaiah 53:5–6 declares, “He was pierced for our transgressions… and by His wounds we are healed.” Jesus bore the full weight of hell—spiritual despair, guilt, and shame—absorbing humanity’s sin in a way that surpasses what any individual would face. On the cross, He experienced the ultimate separation from God, crying, “My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46), to redeem those trapped in their self-chosen torment. This act, foreshadowed in “Moses and the prophets” (Luke 16:29), offers healing for the sin-sick soul, fulfilling the parable’s call to heed God’s revelation.

Recognizing Jesus’ sacrifice shifts one’s identity from self-centered pursuits to a relationship with God, rooted in unconditional love. Unlike moralistic efforts, which can breed a “moralistic hellfire” of pride, the cross humbles the heart, reorienting it toward God’s eternal purposes. For the rich man, this path was available through the Scriptures he ignored, pointing to the Messiah who would bear his sins. John 3:16 encapsulates this hope: belief in Jesus leads to eternal life, not perishing in self-imposed torment. As 2 Corinthians 5:17 affirms, “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation,” transformed not by fear but by the love that extinguishes the fire of sin.

Historical and Theological Support

The traditional view has been a cornerstone of Christian doctrine, solidified through centuries of theological reflection and ecclesiastical consensus. While early church fathers like Origen (c. 184–253) speculated about universal restoration (apokatastasis), suggesting that all might eventually be reconciled to God, this view remained a minority position. By the second century, figures like Justin Martyr (c. 100–165) and Tertullian (c. 155–240) affirmed hell as a place of eternal punishment for the unrepentant, drawing on texts like Matthew 25:46 and Revelation 20:10. Tertullian, in On the Soul, described hell as a state of conscious suffering, aligning with the parable of the rich man and Lazarus.

The doctrine gained further clarity in the fourth and fifth centuries. Augustine of Hippo (354–430), a major figure in Western theology, robustly defended eternal conscious torment in works like City of God and Enchiridion. He argued that sin against an infinite God merits infinite punishment, a view that became normative in Latin Christianity. The Council of Constantinople (543), convened to address Origen’s teachings, condemned universalism, reinforcing the eternality of hell for the wicked. This reaffirmed at the Fifth Ecumenical Council (553), cemented the traditional view in both Eastern and Western churches.

Medieval theology built on this foundation. Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274), in his Summa Theologica, systematized the doctrine, describing hell as both a place and a state of perpetual torment, where the damned suffer loss of God’s presence (poena damni) and sensory anguish (poena sensus). The Fourth Lateran Council (1215) formalized this understanding, declaring that the wicked face “everlasting punishment with the devil.” These developments were not speculation but responses to scriptural exegesis and pastoral concerns, as the church sought to clarify the stakes of human choice.

The Reformation era saw continued affirmation of eternal torment. Martin Luther (1483–1546), while emphasizing salvation by faith, upheld hell’s reality in his lectures on Genesis, warning of its permanence for those who reject Christ. John Calvin (1509–1564), in his Institutes of the Christian Religion, echoed Augustine, stressing God’s justice in punishing unrepentant sinners eternally. The Westminster Confession (1646), a key Reformed document, codified this view, stating that the wicked “shall be cast into hell, to be punished with unspeakable torments, both of body and soul, with the devil and his angels forever.”

Eastern Orthodoxy, while less focused on juridical language, maintained a parallel tradition. The Orthodox view, articulated by figures like John of Damascus (c. 675–749), posits hell as the experience of God’s love by those who reject it, a perspective rooted in texts like Hebrews 12:29. This nuanced understanding complemented Western emphases, ensuring broad historical consensus on hell’s eternality across Christendom.

Theological voices like C.S. Lewis, Søren Kierkegaard, and Tim Keller have provided modern defenses, framing hell as a consequence of human freedom and misplaced identity. Lewis’ metaphor of hell’s doors, Kierkegaard’s refined definition of sin, and Keller’s cultural insights build on the historical foundation, grounding the doctrine in both reason and revelation. Other contributors, including John Blanchard, Darrell Bock, Clay Jones, Peter Kreeft, Dallas Willard, and many other scholars affirm hell’s self-chosen nature.

Conclusion: A Call to Reflection

The traditional view of hell is not an arbitrary punishment but the self-chosen state of those who reject God’s love for a lesser identity. Sin, deeper than rule-breaking, is the act of building one’s life on anything but God, leading to spiritual disintegration. Jesus’ death on the cross offers the only escape, providing a new identity grounded in Gods love. This doctrine challenges us to examine our own hearts: Are our identities rooted in fleeting things, career, relationships, pride, or in God’s eternal purpose?

The parable of the rich man and Lazarus serves as a reminder that life’s choices echo into eternity. Yet it also points to hope: “Moses and the prophets,” fulfilled in Christ, reveal a God who bore our hell to offer us life. As John 3:16 declares, “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.” The question remains: Will we cling to our own fires, or embrace the love that extinguishes them?

Key Citations

• Holy Bible: Luke 16:19–31, Matthew 7:13–14, Matthew 8:12, Matthew 13:50, Matthew 22:13, Matthew 22:39, Matthew 23:23–28, Matthew 25:40–46, Matthew 27:46, Mark 9:43–48, John 3:16, John 3:19, John 9:41, John 15:22, John 4:18, Acts 4:12, Romans 1:19–25, Romans 2:14–15, 2 Corinthians 5:17, Galatians 6:7–8, James 1:15, Leviticus 19:18, Isaiah 53:5–6, Hebrews 9:27, Hebrews 12:29, 1 Timothy 6:16, 1 John 3:4, Jude 1:13, Revelation 14:9–11, Revelation 16:9–11, Revelation 20:10.
• C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce and The Problem of Pain.
• Søren Kierkegaard, The Sickness Unto Death.
• Tim Keller, sermons on Luke 16 and identity.
• John Blanchard, Whatever Happened to Hell?
• Darrell Bock, Luke: Baker Exegetical Commentary.
• Clay Jones, Why Does God Allow Evil?
• Peter Kreeft, Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Heaven.
• Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy.
• Orthodox Church teachings on hell and God’s love.
• Historical sources: Justin Martyr, First Apology; Tertullian, On the Soul; Augustine, City of God and Enchiridion; Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica; John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion; Westminster Confession of Faith.