What To Do When You Knew You Blew It     Free Literature

A Letter From Hell

“And in hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments,

and seeth Abraham afar off,

and Lazarus in his bosom.

And he cried and said, Father Abraham, have mercy on me,

and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water,

and cool my tongue, for I am tormented in this flame...

...Then he said, I pray thee therefore, father,

that thou wouldst send him to my father's house:

that he may testify unto them,

lest they also come into this place of torment."

(Luke 16:23-28)

Dear soul,

I beg you to hear the cry of the rich man

pleading   for his brothers,

knowing his time on earth is over.

Imagine receiving a letter like this,

written by a young man to his God fearing mother.

…He died and went to Hell.

Dear soul, let it not be said of you.

A Letter From Hell:
(Taken from a sermon written by Steve Irre)

Dear mom,

I'm writing to you from a most horrible place

that I have ever seen or heard.

More horrible than you could ever imagine.

It is black here...

so dark I cannot see all the people

I am constantly bumping into.

I only know they're people like myself

by the blood curdling screams that I hear.

My voice is gone from my own screaming

as I arrive in pain and suffering.

I cannot even cry for help anymore,

and it's no use anyway.

There's no one here that has any compassion

at all for my plight.

The pain and suffering

from this place is absolutely unbearable.

It so consumes my every thought.

I would not know if there was any other

sensation to come upon me.

The pain is so severe it never stops,

day or night.

The turning of days does not appear

because of the darkness.

What may be nothing more than minutes

or even seconds

seems like many endless years.

The thought of this suffering continuing without end

is more than I can bear.

My mind is spinning more and more

with each passing moment, dear Mother. 

I feel like a madman.

I cannot think clearly under this load of confusion.

I fear I'm losing my mind.

Mom, the fear is just as bad as the pain.

Maybe even worse.

I cannot see how my predicament

could be any worse than it is

but I have a constant fear

that it might be so at any moment.

My mouth is parched,

and will only become more so.

It is so dry,

that my tongue clings to the roof of my mouth.

I remember that old preacher

in that church saying

what Jesus Christ endured on that old rugged cross.

There's no relief, Mom.

Not so much as a single drop of water

to cool my tongue.

To add even more misery to this place of torment,

I know that I deserve to be here.

I'm being punished justly for my deeds.

The punishment,

the pain and the suffering

is no worse than I justly deserve,

but admitting that now will never ease the anguish

that burns eternally from my wretched soul.

I hate myself for committing the sins

to earn such a horrible fate.

I hate the devil that deceived me

so that I would end up in this place.

As much as I know it an unspeakable wickedness

to think such a thing,

I hate the very God

that sent His own Son to die for me,

that I may not come to this place of torment.

I could never blame the Christ of Calvary

that suffered, bled, and died for me.

I hate Him anyway.

I cannot even control my feelings

when I know they're wicked, wretched and vile.

I am more wicked and vile now

than I ever was in my earthly existence.

Oh Mother,

if only I had listened!

any earthly torment would be better than this.

To die a slow agonizing death from cancer,

to jump out off the 40th floor of a burning building,

like those who died on September 11th,

but to choose those over my present fate,

I have no power.

I do not have that choice.

I now understand that this torment and suffering

is what Jesus bore for me.

I believe He died to pay for my sins,

but His suffering was not eternal.

In three days,

He arose in victory over the grave.

Oh, I so do believe!,

but alas it is too late.

As the old invitation song states,

I remember hearing so many times.

“You came, but you came one day too late."

We are all believers in this terrible place,

but our faith amounts to nothing.

It’s too late.

The door is shut.

The tree has fallen,

and here it shall lay in Hell forever lost.

No hope, no comfort,

no peace, no joy.

There will never be any end to my suffering.

I remember that old preacher

as he would read from the book of Revelations.

"...And the smoke of their torment ascended

up forever and ever."

They had no rest day or night,

those who worshipped the beast in his image.”

There is no peace,

no peace saith my God to the wicked.

For the wicked

are like the troubled sea when it cannot rest.

Whose waters cast mire and dirt...

there's no peace to the wicked.

The worst thing about this place, Mom,

are my memories.

I remember the church services,

the invitations...

I thought they were so corny,

so stupid and useless.

I used to sit in the back and hide my face

while I laughed at that old country preacher.

I thought he was a fool.

I see things different now Mom.

Now that I had a change of heart,

it matters nothing at this point.

I have lived like a fool.

Dear soul,

I’m talking to someone tonight.

I don’t know who you are,

but this boy here says I lived like a fool.

I pretended like a fool.

I played church like a fool.

I died like a fool God,

and now I have to suffer

the anguish of a fool forever.

All by myself.

Just to stroll through a green meadow,

smell the beautiful flowers,

stopping to take in the fragrance

of their sweet perfume.

There’s no flowers in Hell, mom.

I long to see one of those little innocent babies

that just used to aggravate me,

now I’d love to see their cherub -like faces,

but there’s no babies in Hell, Mom.

Mom, there’s no Bibles in Hell,

there’s no Bibles in Hell, mama.

The only scriptures inside these charred walls

are those that ring in my ears hour after hour,

and moment after miserable moment

that I remember being preached,

as that old preacher hammered the pulpit,

and preached under the inspiration of the Holy Ghost.

Oh, Mom,

they offer me those verses no comfort at all.

They only serve to remind me

of what a fool I have been.

Mom, if it wasn’t for the futility of them all,

that you might rejoice to know

that there is a never ending prayer meeting

here in Hell.

No matter.

There’s no Holy Spirit to intercede on our behalf.

The prayers are just empty and dead.

They amount to nothing more than cries for mercy

that we all know will never be answered.

Please warn my brothers, mom!

I was the oldest.

I thought I had to be tough.

Please tell them there’s no tough guys in Hell, mama.

Nobody’s cool in Hell.

As terrible as this place is, mom,

I see it’s my final destination.

Satan laughs at us all here,

and his multitudes join us continually in his misery.

We’re constantly reminded

that one day in the future,

we’ll all be summoned up one by one

to stand face by face by the God

that we have offended by our unholiness,

by our wickedness,

by our thoughts and deeds, and attitude.

And as we stand before Him,

we’ll be judged by our own wicked works.

By those things written in the books,

and then thrown into the lake of fire.

Saying “Amen” to our own condemnation,

just before we’re cast into the lake of fire.

We will have to look on the face of Him,

who willingly suffered the torments of Hell,

that we might be delivered from them.

The Lamb of God,

that came to take away the sin of the world.

As we stand there in His holy presence

to hear the pronouncement of our own damnation,

You’ll be there mother, to see it all.

Please forgive me

for hanging my head in shame,

as I know that I will not be able

to bear to look upon your face.

You will already be conformed

into the image of the Savior,

and I know it will be more than I can stand.

I’d love to leave this place,

enjoying you and so many others

I have known on earth.

But I know that will never be possible,

since I know I can never escape

the punishments of Hell

that I rightly deserve.

I say this with tears,

with a sorrow and deep despair

that can never be completely described.

I never want to see any of you again.

Please don’t ever join me here in eternal anguish."

Your son,
Condemned and lost forever.

Dear friend,

This doesn't need to be your fate.

The greatest agony of Hell is not the lake of fire,

but rather the absence of God's presence,

and the vivid memory memory

of every opportunity lost,

to receive God's gift of eternal life.

The Lord is not willing that any should perish.

He has provided a way for all who will believe

and trust Him as their Lord and Savior,

He willingly gave His life,

so that you might live.

However you have a choice,

whether or not to accept His gift

that He is offering to you tonight.

Right now, wherever you are,