When I was a little kid, I went to Sunday school. One of the things they taught us about there was hell. Simply put, be afraid of hell. You don’t want to go there. It’s the worst place imaginable. As you get older, the debate over Hell gets more sophisticated. Is it real? Who goes there? What’s the criteria? Is there anything in between Hell and Heaven? These questions have driven some of the great divides in the history of humanity.

You don’t come here to read my theological beliefs, and with good reason. Like most people with their strongest opinions, mine are ignorant. There are Pastors, Priests, Rabbis, and Imams who have studied the ancient Western scriptures from end to end, both to speak in the pulpit and in rigorous academic settings, to whom someone who wants intelligent thoughts about Hell, should go. They can teach you deep theological thinking, and can give religious teachings on the matter that hopefully can satisfy your curiosity. Of course, there is a problem with this subject- you have no way to truly know. Until you actually confront the question of the afterlife directly yourself, you simply don’t know. I don’t mean fear for your life. I mean literally die.

Tonight as I sit here typing this, at 9:19pm, it feels as though the Lord I have always sworn I believe in is showing me what hell is. I’m sitting in a room at St. Luke’s Anderson Campus in Bethlehem Township, a beautiful, wonderful, incredible facility. Not 18 months ago, the people here literally saved my life. It was different then, though. I came here leaving consciousness, probably hours from exiting this world had I not been brought for care. The people of Suburban Ambulance and this facility did amazing things. I can’t find 95% of them now. If I did, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. But we’re not there anymore. Hell, the person who survived it is gone.

Things were very different 18 months ago and I was very different too. I spent the first three days here barely conscious if at all, in the ICU, thankfully less aware than everyone around me at the situation I was in. When I awakened, I was alive- and that was how I saw the entire situation. I had survived near death, and hell, if I hadn’t, I would have never spent a single conscious moment knowing. But I did survive. I ended up losing a leg and going through a literal living hell, but I reminded myself that I had done that. Being an optimist is fairly easy when you tell yourself you just did the literally hardest thing in life, you beat death. Past success isn’t assurance of future success, but it’s nice to know you have it in you.

The problem after you beat death is that you have to keep living. It’s not like a sports season where that’s the championship and then you have a parade, or the end of “The Return of the Jedi” where you’ve defeated the emperor and have a big space fireworks show, or really anything we do in life with an end point. You move on, and all of life’s challenges are still there for you. You beat death? Great, now learn to live on one leg. You learned how to walk with your prosthetic? Great, now avoid major injuries and problems. You survive and move on to new things that frankly, are hard. It’s really hard. And well, eventually life finds the things you aren’t able to defeat.

So this my second trip back here since that original, or my third trip here in 18 months. The reality is that the law of averages is beating me. This is my second infection since the amputation. Both came after about 6 months on my new legs. There are differences and they are not the same case, but there is something about me that is prone to this, beyond the obvious (you’re diabetic). Right when I start to get some momentum going, things crash. You’ve survived, cool, but now you’re going to deal with frustration, disappointment, and struggle. This won’t be once. It is sadly, the new norm. And if it is not figured out, it will only get worse. Either it has to be right, or eventually the outcome will be catastrophically bad.

So anyway, back to hell. My belief at this point is hell is simply being forced through a repetitive process and continuing to fail. It’s not much different than politics, so maybe I do know a bit about it. If I ever prove it, I probably won’t be here to tell you it. Besides, you’ll have more educated opinions to hear.