He Saw What I Could Be
Imagine for a moment the most profound loneliness imaginable. Not the loneliness of being alone in a room, but the loneliness of being completely unseen, unacknowledged, with no possibility of connection. What if this—more than any fire or punishment—is the true essence of what we call judgment?
When we open the scriptures, we encounter a deeply intimate portrait of divine relationship that challenges everything we might have been taught about God. There’s a moment in 1 Peter where the apostle speaks about life, about goodness, about the way we live—and he reveals something extraordinary about divine attention.
“Whoever would love life and see good days,” he writes, “must keep their tongue from evil and their lips from deceitful speech. They must turn from evil and do good; they must seek peace and pursue it.”
And then comes the profound statement:
“The face of the Lord is against those who do evil.”
Those words aren’t just a poetic metaphor. They’re a window into the very nature of divine relationship.
In the original language, “face” means so much more than a physical feature. It speaks of presence, of attention, of intentional engagement. When the scripture says God turns His face away, it’s describing something far more terrifying than physical punishment—it’s the ultimate relational consequence.
Think about human relationships. When someone turns their face away from you, what happens? Communication stops. Connection ceases. You become, in that moment, essentially invisible. Now imagine that happening on a cosmic, spiritual scale—a complete withdrawal of divine attention.
This isn’t about God being vindictive. This is about the natural consequence of persistent rejection. It’s as if God says, “You’ve chosen to live without me. Very well—I will respect that choice completely.”
Hell, then, might best be understood as a state of ultimate loneliness—a condition where God’s attention is so completely withdrawn that it’s as if you’ve ceased to exist in any meaningful relational sense to Him. The biblical imagery is profound and visceral: burning sulfur, the “blackness of darkness forever”—metaphors that point to a pain beyond human comprehension. This isn’t merely physical suffering, but a spiritual anguish so complete, so total, that it would hurt beyond what we can now humanly imagine. Not because God is cruel, but because you’ve consistently chosen disconnection—and divine relationship is the very essence of existence itself.
The biblical narratives are full of moments where God chooses how to engage—sometimes coming down to see, sometimes appearing not to know, sometimes turning away. These aren’t literary tricks. They’re revelations of a God who is fundamentally relational, who respects human freedom so deeply that He will allow the ultimate consequence of that freedom.
The “face of the Lord” being against someone isn’t a statement of hatred or malice. It’s a statement of complete relational disengagement. It’s God saying, “You have chosen your path so definitively that I will honor that choice completely.”
This perspective transforms our understanding. Judgment becomes less about punishment and more about the natural result of our choices. It’s about a God so respectful of human freedom that He will allow us to experience the full consequence of persistently turning away from relationship.
As we reflect on this, we’re invited to something far deeper than religious observance. It’s an invitation to genuine, transformative relationship—one that is non-robotic, not one of rote prayers and repetitious formalities, but how we would stand before a loving Father and speak with Him with utmost respect and reverence. This is a relationship characterized by authentic dialogue, profound intimacy, and a deep recognition of divine majesty.
We’re called to approach God not as a distant, impersonal force, but as a loving Father who invites genuine, heart-to-heart communication. A relationship where we can wrestle with understanding, where we can pour out our hearts, where we can question and seek—all while maintaining a fundamental reverence and respect.
___________________________________________
Related
The Legacy of God’s Miracles in the
Young & Restless and No Longer Reformed
*A reflection on divine presence, human freedom, and the profound mystery of relational judgment.*
Captian: An ancient bird mosaic from Engedi, Judea.