Hell Yeah: A Hopeful Reflection on Universalism

The Question I Keep Getting Asked

Am I a universalist? Hell yeah.

Okay, that might be a little strong. I'm not entirely sure I fit the textbook definition of a universalist. But it's what I hope to be, especially on my best days—the days when I am most captured by the grace and love of God.

People ask me about this from time to time. Some write in wondering if I can still be considered Christian if I lean in this direction. Others hear echoes in my sermons or see it in the way we talk about Jesus at Commons. And while it's not the first thing I lead with—it's certainly not the foundation of my faith—it is something I think about a lot. My Christianity is grounded in the person of Jesus, not in what happens after we die.

But enough people have asked, so let me share why I lean this way. Let me walk you through the biblical, philosophical, and theological threads that lead me toward a hopeful vision for all things.

A Faith in Tension

I go back and forth. Some days I truly believe God is at work redeeming every bit of brokenness in creation—healing all things, all people, all of us. Other days, I get cynical. I see the pain and think, "Can God really fix this?"

And yet, I see that same tension in the Apostle Paul. Sometimes he writes with rigid expectations. Other times, he explodes with grace, declaring that nothing—nothing—can separate us from the love of God. So if Paul can live in that tension, maybe it's okay that I do too.

The Human Doctrine of Hell

There are some who say that without hell, God can't be just. That hell is necessary to balance the scales. But to me, that sounds more like karma than the gospel.

Retributive justice—"you get what's coming to you"—feels like the most human idea we've ever projected onto God. And honestly, it undermines grace. If we only believe in Jesus to escape punishment, we miss the whole point.

Hell, especially as eternal conscious torment, is not what saves us from sin. Jesus is. And if God is love—if that is God's essential character—then punishment has to serve love, not vengeance.

Listening to the Global Church

Yes, many in the global south believe in a literal hell. And no, rejecting that belief isn't inherently dismissive. The point is not to ignore other traditions but to engage them honestly, even when we disagree.

We all need each other. Different cultures, different readings, different lenses on God. None of us holds the whole truth. So yes, we listen—carefully, humbly, consistently. But that doesn't mean we can't ask hard questions.

What the Bible Says (and Doesn't Say)

The Bible is complex. It holds tension. There are passages that suggest death is the end. Others that seem to point to eternal torment. Still others that brim with hope that all will be healed.

Take Paul, for example. In Romans and Ephesians, he makes sweeping claims about all being saved, about nothing separating us from God. In 1 Timothy, the claim is that God desires everyone to be saved. And this theme shows up in the Hebrew scriptures too—all nations coming to worship God, all creation being made whole.

These are not minor subplots. They're core to the biblical imagination.

But What About the Fire?

Yes, there are verses about hell—images of fire and worms and gnashing teeth. But most of those are metaphors. Jesus often quotes Isaiah 66, which talks about the aftermath of war, not eternal punishment.

When Jesus tells the parable of the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25, it's about how nations and systems treat the vulnerable. It's not a roadmap to the afterlife.

Even Revelation, with its lake of fire, is about the destruction of systems that harm—death, hades, empire—not individuals. These images aren't about torture; they're about justice.

Theological Grounding: God Is Love

Here's the heart of it: God is love. Not just sometimes, not just when it's easy. Always. Love is the core of God's being.

That means punishment, if it exists, has to be restorative. It has to make us whole. It cannot be infinite retribution for finite sin. That's not love. That's not justice.

Is there space for a soul to reject God completely? Maybe. But even then, I wonder if God's grace is strong enough to reach them, to redeem even that.

Conditional immortality—the idea that some simply expire rather than suffer forever—makes more sense to me than eternal torment. It's tragic, but at least it's coherent with a God who is love.

So Where Does That Leave Us?

In hope. Hope that God will heal all things. Hope that Christ's work is big enough to embrace everyone. Hope that love wins.

And in the meantime, we preach Jesus. We invite people into the story. Not to save them from God, but to help them see that they are already loved, already known, already being drawn home.

Who Is More Moral?

Let me leave you with this: If you believe that universal salvation is the best possible story, the most moral version of God's grace, but you doubt it's true... ask yourself: who is more moral? You, who wants all to be healed? Or a God who could do it, but chooses not to?

Our best instincts—our deepest hopes—these are echoes of the God who made us. A God who is love, through and through.