by Paul Erland

Created on: April 11, 2009   Last Updated: April 15, 2009

When Jonathan Edwards delivered his famous "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" sermon to the congregants of his church in Northampton (Mass) in 1741, he elaborated on a theme from Deuteronomy: Their foot shall slide in due time.

Gazing sternly down from his pulpit, grimly sizing up his flock, Edwards reckoned that the only thing standing between these ostensibly upright citizens and the gaping furnaces of Hell was air, thin air.

"The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider, or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked," he thundered. He detailed God's grievances and His utter contempt, he lavishly described the torments He held in store, and he adjured his foredoomed listeners to be "born again."

Today, Born-Againers can sound just as lasciviously overwrought as Edwards in judging us, the unregenerate. Listen to my friend Grace:

"I'm afraid for you," she tells me. "I'm worried about how you're going to spend eternity."

"How are you going to spend it?" I say.

"What do you mean?"

"What are you going to do in Heaven? I assume you assume you're going to Heaven?"

"Well, I would hope so."

"So what will you to do there?"

"I'll be with God," she intones.

"Doing what?"

"What do you mean, doing what? I'll just be with God." "So you and God will hang out? Doing what? Listening to tunes? Watching TV?"

She frowns.

"Does Heaven have Internet service?"

"I don't think so," she says. "It's not like it is here."

"What is it like?" "I don't know. I just know it'll be great."

"So there'll be sex?" Grace rolls her eyes. "Everyone's a spirit there," she says. "Filled with joy."

"An eternity without sex. Sounds like marriage."

"Don't be crass."

"Will there be movies? Sports?"

"No."

"Sounds pretty boring. Maybe I'd rather go to Hell."

"Don't worry," she says.

"At least there's something to do there, if I understand correctly. Swimming. Running. Screaming. Turning on a spit. A man can work up a sweat there." Grace shakes her head and walks away. She fervently believes in a Heaven she can't describe. She looks forward to staying there forever, in a consummation of her belief, fulfilling some amorphous destiny, like a cloud in a bottle.

It doesn't occur to Grace, who is frequently at loose ends when she hasn't anything to do, that living on and on with nothing to do might prove somewhat tedious.

But no one, least of all Grace, would claim for Christ-Inanity anything in common with common sense. You've got to accept it all on faith.

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