I am God.

  My home is full of brightness and love, full of people with smiles that greet you at the front gates made of gold. You walk in, and they give you a white robe, and they start to sing a song of praise. You smile, and little girls come up to hug you. One grabs your hand and leads you down a golden road, where there are harps and angels, and the place is full of joy. You sit on a cloud, and you realize that you no longer know hunger, pain, or thirst. You are happy, and you cry tears of joy, for you know you are free.

  Jesus is my only son who I sent to save you from your sins. By asking him into your heart, confessing your sins, and believing I died for you, you will be forgiven and brought into the gates of heaven.
You get up and start shouting of joy that you can’t contain, and pick up a little angel and start singing amazing grace. Your heart fills with joy as you see your brother coming to sing with you. He has the biggest smile as he pats you on the back, congratulating and welcoming you. Your new family swarms around you and you start shouting like you have never shouted before.

  Suddenly there is silence in reverence to my approach. I am clad in long white robes, and I am so much more than a man: the one in whose image all people have been created. As I walk up to you, I smile and say

I am the Devil.

  My home is full of fire, full of grief, full of torment, yet no death. You see strangers burning eternally. Screaming and clawing to get to you. There is no such thing as mercy here. Here, we all suffer and feel nothing but pain, nothing but sorrow, nothing but regret and humility for being here. You’re shoved in by my angels, and your clothes are taken. You are given a cloth to wrap around you, no bigger than your chest. You feel hot almost like you’re going to explode, and suddenly, your attackers get to you and scratch and claw at your fresh meat. They crave death and know no mercy, yet shall receive neither. You try to run, but suffering corpses walk and block your path and you have nowhere to go.

There is no such thing as mercy here.

  You see a teenager, who died at a young age, who knew wrong from right. He burns, and his feet only feel thorns as he walks, leaving footsteps of blood behind. No words come out of his mouth because it is dry to the bone. He chose this life, and so did you. There is no water. No refreshment. Nothing is fulfilling here; there is no joy here. You try and squeeze yourself through to see what everyone’s looking at; then you see a throne built of skulls and blood, and nothing but torture written on the faces of every person here. You see me, sitting on the throne of Hell, saying,

“Welcome to your eternal home where you will never die, and you will suffer eternally.”