English is a utilitarian language that prioritizes efficiency. In this drive for more perfect language, we use words as stand-ins for real meaning, cheapening the expression of both. The problem with this kind of linguistic device is that it obscures true meaning and allows us to communicate imprecisely.

Hell is a perfect example. War, a very rough neighborhood, or even two weeks in the heat of summer without air conditioning is described as hell. The Book of Revelation, in a pointed indictment of the Roman government and society, describes hell using all sorts of horrible imagery. Maybe this language is poetic and figurative, hope in the midst of terrible persecution, or perhaps hell really is scorpion-like beasts ascending to the earth to torture people for years at a time.

What hell is isn’t really the point. Hell is not a created place, it is a place that is defined by what it lacks: God. The worst part of hell is not whatever tortures, pain, or misery that Satan has the power to enforce. It is the existence in a place where there is no love and no hope.

Even in our darkest moments of life, we hope. In humanitarian crises, as the floodwaters swirl, as the danger comes right to our doorstep, we cling to a hope that this is momentary and will get better. In those moments, we know that someone, somewhere loves us. This too will pass, and all will be well again one day. Look at the devastation that hurricanes wreak on cities, and just a few years later the damage is nearly erased through rebuilding.

This is not so in hell. Hell is the definitive confirmation of our choice in life: do we accept God’s love and, in doing so, give up ourselves? Or do we reject God and His love and truly die? In the former, there is hope. In the latter, it is the final analysis. Rejection of God necessarily means that things will never be better; there are no rays of hope or sparks of love.

Life is a busy and noisy place. We are drawn to those places of calm, peace, and quiet. We want relationship, hope, and love. Hell has none of those things.

So in the moment of temptation, when all seems so novel, exciting, and enticing, is it worth the loss of everything for all of time?