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Do I Have To Believe In God To Enter Heaven Or Does Spending My Life in Hell Count?

When someone close to you dies and death seems to be a recurring theme in ways that lead to discomfort — there’s an inherent need to make sense of something that often times leaves you scared shitless.

When a family friend of ours recently passed away after being diagnosed with advanced uterine cancer — my mother’s already critical paranoia escalated as she tried to make sense of why the woman she had spent most of her life loving and admiring — had been cursed with such an affliction.

Her friend was a good person. And not in that generalized way that lumps most of us in that category — but in ways that are often times hard to replicate — especially when it demands a high degree of selflessness. She was warm, kind and patient and definitely cleansed the energy of my childhood home with her countless visits.

Yes — when people like that pass away under painful circumstances — we wonder why God isn’t merciful enough to perform those miracles that He’s known for — from back in the day — when such things weren’t just a myth.

My mother’s grief over her dead best friend is understandable — and while I’m able to comfort with words of encouragement and her days off from cooking — when it comes to conversations about the afterlife — it’s clear that my reasoning isn’t on par with her unwavering faith.

It must be excruciatingly hard for the woman who made me memorize the Lord’s Prayer — to hear me defiantly admit that I don’t believe in heaven or hell.

We all cope with sudden loss in our own way — and based on my background — which was seeped in Sunday school and weekly fellowships at the homes of “aunties” — you would expect that I would agree that my dearly departed “aunty” is resting in heaven — and enjoying the benefits of being in “a better place.”

But — after weathering the unapologetic trajectory of life while also witnessing the disgustingly hypocritical climate of churches under the leadership of anointed criminals — who profess rotten jargon in order to legitimize their persistent scamming — I have to make conclusions based on what I don’t believe.

Obviously when we die — our souls aren’t sorted based on how “good” or “bad”we were because despite the simple-mindedness of born-again Christians — life is way too complicated when it comes to deciphering who deserves to float in heaven and who needs to burn in hell.

There’s also the subjectiveness of what constitutes bad behavior versus stellar moves. I know plenty of Christians who curse the shit out of anyone who exhibits signs of being a homosexual — and would most likely let him or her bleed to death on the street instead of attempting a rescue.

If those folks get a free pass through the pearly gates — then I most certainly want to be denied entry.

There’s also the unfortunate ones who were born into environments that were staged for their inevitable downfall. Some of the cases are so severe that you can’t fathom the children evolving into law-abiding citizens with the confidence of winning characteristics — that guarantee a successful assimilation into society.

They may become serial killers or rapists or both and even though there shouldn’t be a way to excuse such abominable behavior — we also can’t ignore how and why those tendencies manifested.

We assume that the likes of Hitler, Manson, Bundy and the other monstrous greats are currently writhing under the flames of hell based on their damning lifespan.

Again — it’s not that simple.

That’s why I often ponder if I have to believe in God in order to enter heaven or if I can rely on my time spent on earth — or what I describe as “hell” — as automatic admission.

I guess that’s my way of explaining why none of us are special enough to be assigned different levels of rewards after our souls leave our bodies.

Religion was meant to be the constant divider and the supplier of grief and mandated chaos. Islamist terrorists have succeeded in soiling the reputation of Muslims worldwide — and mega-churches continue to lead the flock to pastures that systematically drain their bank accounts.

I would like to count on the fact that after we die — we become what we were before our parents had sex — created us — and brought us into this world — kicking and screaming.

When we picture it — all we see is — nothing.

Maybe we won’t return to “nothingness” but we certainly aren’t going to a place to be reunited with loved ones under ceaseless blue skies.

The truth is that I really don’t know where we will end up and neither do you. And that’s exactly why our fate will be exactly the same — regardless of whether you were a mass murderer or a nun.

Trust me — God wouldn’t have it any other way.

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