No Better Place

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The Testimony of One Who Found Himself in . . .


No Better Place
By Joseph Weilenbeck

If only I could tell you. If only I had heard.
If only I had believed. If only . . .

The light and the voices in the room at last gave way to darkness and silence.  All pain, all feeling, ceased.  All sensation faded.  Only a vague notion of movement remained, though neither vision nor feeling survived to give credence to that notion. 

Thoughts of peace began to replace the pain and anxiety that had finally released their hold upon me.  And with those thoughts, came memories.  Memories of comfort felt in my mother’s arms, of reassurance heard in my father’s voice, of tenderness shared in my wife’s loving touch, and of joy celebrated in play with my daughter.

But as quickly as those thoughts of peace came, they withdrew - at first seeming to drift away­ - then ripped from my mind with terrifying speed and power.  A small beckoning point of light that had come with the darkness - distant, but compelling - quickly grew smaller, then disappeared completely.  The vague notion of movement I had felt now changed to an unmistakable feeling of increasing acceleration.  Any thought of peace was now gone.  And whatever sense of hope might have remained in my heart, now spiraled out of me like water descending a drain. Calm gave way to fear, then fear to terror.

My senses, if ever truly absent, returned.  I could feel a hand gripping and pulling me at blinding speed by my feet.  Dry, scratching, burning fingers encircled my ankles - searing my flesh and crushing my bones.  Faint, distant screams of terror grew louder and louder in my ears.  In immeasurable fear, I tried in vain to join their plea; but I could not make a sound.

The heat that had begun burning the flesh from my feet now embraced my entire body.  I cried out in pain, but still could make no sound.  Burning.  Accelerating.  Like a meteor crashing toward the earth, I plummeted toward a fiery abyss.

I could now see the face of the one whose death grip held me and pulled me toward destruction.  The terror I felt at first seeing my captor, for a time, exceeded the pain of the fire.  His horrible face was vaguely human in form, but hideous in features, with a countenance that screamed contempt.  His eyes were blood red with hate, and his breath ignited whatever it fell upon.

With filthy and vile words, he mocked and cursed God as he cast me into a vast pit of burning refuse - a raging lake of fire.  But his seemingly victorious ranting betrayed the desperate anger of one seeking to hide his own defeat.

The once distant screams now cut into my eardrums like a knife.  My flesh burned and split - but would not leave me.  I gasped for breath, but found no air to offer relief.  Not even death, or loss of consciousness, could avail themselves to ease the horror of my suffocation.  My lungs, my mouth, and my throat burned and cracked like a dry desert stream bed.  I had never known true, desperate thirst.  Now, I craved water.  I would give my soul for just a drop - but there was none to be tasted.  I wanted to flee, to escape.  But my burning legs would not move.

In every direction I looked, I saw my hideous tormentor stoking the fires and celebrating my anguish.  He writhed in pained pleasure as he watched every kind of evil creature feed on my fears and on my flesh.

The vast, burning pit I now occupied held what must have been millions of others just like me.  We were close enough to feel each others silent, tortured screams.  But we could not touch, nor share any words.  I hungered for someone to ease my pain, but their pain only added to mine, and mine to theirs.  Yet, I gave and received no sympathy.  I felt their hate; and I hated them in return.

I tried to pray for relief, but my words silently left my mouth, then fell, disappearing into the flames.  I could hear the mocking laughter of my keeper, and feel his scalding breath upon my face.

Adding to my torture, my mind and my memory now possessed a clarity and a certainty I had never before known.  Every instance of love, kindness, or goodness I had ever experienced, I now saw with perfect vision.  I finally grasped the significance of the blessing those moments were to me.  Yet, as clearly as I could see those moments, I knew well that I would never again enjoy anything even close to the least of them.  Nor would I ever again draw comfort or joy from remembering them.

I recalled every person I had loved, or who had loved me.  I finally saw the fullness of the blessing they had represented in my life.  But I also knew, with absolute certainty, that I would be separated from them - in every way - forever.  I now knew the blessing that love was, but could never again feel love.

Through the smoke rising from my burning flesh, I now could see how grievously I had offended God.  And, I could see how often I had wronged others.  I could see my life of sin and selfishness.  My mask of self-righteousness completely melted away in the fires of my new abode.  Every sin, and its consequences, I could now see in vivid detail.  I longed to confess my sins, and empty my heart of its guilt.  But I could not.  My guilt would continue - burning without ceasing, like the raging fire that was now my lot.

The full truth of the goodness and holiness of God also became clear to me.  All of the shadows were gone.  And I finally realized my absolute need for Him.  At the same time, I realized that I would always be separated from Him.  My heart was broken - more deeply than I ever knew possible.  But my burning eyes could not offer the relief of even a single tear.  The completeness of my despair, like a stone of unbearable weight, pressed down upon my heart.  The pain of that weight exceeded even that of the fire.

I thought about time, and how long I would have to endure this suffering.  My tormentor pointed his crooked, wretched finger.  I looked in the direction he had indicated and saw a clock, enveloped in flames but not consumed by them.  I stared at the clock and finally realized that its hands did not move.  I looked back at my tormentor.  Again, he laughed, then cursed and mocked God.

My thoughts drifted upward with the smoke, rising far above my fiery prison.  On top of my suffering and despair, I imagined the joy with which God greeted those who came to Him, rather than to the abyss that now held me.  And I imagined a tear falling toward me from God.  But that tear disappeared in vapor as my destiny became evident.

The reality of my eternity became painfully clear.  I was now, finally and forever, beyond even the mercy of God.  He had offered me life; but in my ignorance and arrogance, I chose death.  I chose Hell.

I thought of those who, upon my death, said in mindless sentiment, “At least he’s in a better place, now.  His suffering is over.”

They were wrong.  They were dead wrong!

(C) 2008 Joseph Weilenbeck