Monday, October 29, 2018

Boring as Hell

One of my coworkers described a task using the title phrase, “boring as hell.” I knew what he wanted to convey, namely, that his last hour of work had felt almost painfully worthless. Yet, I wondered, as only l can do, “Just how boring will hell be?”

I struggle to see the condition of boredom. My mind is almost always playing with ideas, toying with memories or practicing potential conversations, as introverts are wont to do. I assumed therefore that boredom might be described as a state where lack of input and lack of motivation team up to severely frustrate the people caught in their twin grip. I would suppose that a lack of sleep and/or nutrition would serve as the Petri dish for boredom’s growth from a microscopic irritant to a seething reality. If we are all mostly comfortable with this definition, let’s shift our gaze toward hell. 

The Bible’s original languages fog an easy understanding of the afterlife. We see through a glass dimly, if you will. I reject the temptation to wander around in lexicons. Jesus in the parable of “the rich man and Lazarus” imagines an existence of intense, parching heat separated from cool water by an uncrossable chasm. Jesus adds a place of outer darkness where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. These three conditions would signify a roasting scorchy gathering where I know no one. None desire to name themselves out of shame (weeping) and/or frustration rage (gnashing of teeth). If this can serve us as an approximation of hell, let’s see if boredom is likely to lay around there. 

I don’t see boredom as a first response upon arrival in hell. An initial reaction might run along these lines, “What a terrible party! Everyone is so mean and self absorbed. I wonder if I know anyone here?” So you and I claw and push our way through this unseen crowd, listening for a familiar voice or story. No luck. After timeless work we find the chasm. The rich man snaps at us because our arrival has jarred him free from pursuing his tirade against The System and the unfairness of where he has found himself. With soaked and tingling skin, we sit on a smoldering and flaming surface. We plug against the roaring heat, the sobbing and cursing. No beers will pass among friends. Every word will be spoken from greed and pride. Every action will be motivated from intense self interest. 

So yes, hell will spill over with waves of frustration, inhabited by little people and unending heat. Hell will be boring to tears. 

Whenever an author considers “Hell” and describes the place, a question shoots to greet it, “Why would a good God create such an awful existence?” In Matthew 25, where Jesus describes hell with tears and frustration, he offers two parables to help explain it. 

In the first, a King entrusts subjects with resources and asks them to invest them wisely while he is gone. The first two people use the resources with wisdom and daring to make more. The focus of their time and energy is to maximize profit for the King. The third spends no time using what he was given. Instead, he buries the coins in the back yard and goes about his life. When the King returns, all three report. The first returned great profit. The King declares, “Well done.” The second returned a modest profit. Again the King declares, “Well done,” to the lesser sum. The third wipes the dirt from a moth eaten bag and returns exactly what he was given, no profit. This servant is cast into hell.

In the second, Jesus describes a Shepherd-King whose flock is all people. The sheep are praised first. They have no idea why the King offers them praise. The Son of Man explains that their good deeds for others, which have just become part of who they are, have the same effect as serving him. The Shepherd then turns to the goats. He passes judgment with a very personal condemnation. Like the sheep, they are flabbergasted at this result. “When did we see you in need?” The King declares when you refused to see the hurting around you, you refused to see me.

In the overlap of both stories I detect a self centered lifestyle. “I’ll just bury the talents and be done with it, so I can go on with my life.” “I really don’t know or care who is right around me or if they have needs.” 

I also notice that those rewarded have made serving others and using what they have been given their natural response to God’s love and trust. The two servants take seriously God’s investment with them and want to return even more. The sheep have become used to giving and caring for those around them. They are sharing the love God has lavished upon them.


I don’t know that this accurately describes the spiritual afterlife. Jesus was using physical examples to unpack spiritual realities. The gist of the parables would seem to be that we need to live in a trusting relationship with Jesus and we need to let that relationship motivate our lives wherever that may lead and whoever we need to serve.

Thursday, October 11, 2018

2 Seeds

Shot from cold metal our seed bounces into clods of earth.
Sharp steel breaks the clods and plants the seeds deep.
“What an experience!” The seed begins to worry.

Rain drops explode around, on and almost through the seed.
“When will this end!” The seed screams.

“I know, Farmer must hate us.” Another seed complains. 
“Otherwise we wouldn’t be mistreated like this.” 

Thunder smashes into the earth. Lightning ascends from ground to clouds. Wind pushes water lower until some seeds start to float. 

One seed is silent through all this. A finger of green pushes out of her skin.

“What’s up with you?”

“I don’t know. This storm had me shaking too.” Minerals released from the soil ride the rainwater into the hearts of the seeds. “Hey you have a tail now too.”

The sun shoves the clouds from the sky and keeps them at bay for days and days. A new energy crowds the soil. This sweet heat is not universally loved. 

“When will this end!” The seed whines. “All this light! I can’t even sleep. And the heat, I can’t stand it. I’m starting to doubt that Farmer has anything to do with us. Why would he put us through such heavy, prickly heat?”

The silent seed’s skin was peeling back, her innards expanding. Worrying seed studied his neighbor. “Are you OK, Silent? You don’t look so good.”

“I don’t know. This energy coursing through me seems enough to tear me apart. It hurts, I won’t kid you, especially when I fight it or wish it to stop. . .. You know your skin is starting to peel a bit Worrying.” He hasn’t noticed. As he reclines into the sun, the pain subsides.

One morning the sunshine is broken by a purring steel tractor tugging a wagon full of crap. Blades fling the sloppy, smelly cargo all over the seeds. Some of them give up. This load of dung is too much. 

Worrying Seed moans, “When will this end?” Yet even as he whimpers these words, he turns to Silent Seed. Large scary arms descend from what is left of her, while one shoot scrambles out of her toward the surface. Worrying Seed is finished and struggles to be free of its place. Something holds him fast.

“What are those things coming out of you?” Worrying Seed yells.

“I’m growing roots. I think its because I’m going to become huge.”

“So what about that, that thing snaking out of your head?”

“Part of me is drawn up and away. It’s where my life is headed, I guess. You are putting out some roots as well, Worrying.”

Day after day this cycle of water, sun and fertilizer frames the seeds’ weeks. The pair appears less and less like their planted selves. Worrying seed still frets, but less and less out loud. Eventually they both are gone, standing unrecognizable. 


And Farmer welcomes them into the world above.