The answer is pretty obvious: Compassion.
If we behold a person moving toward a future filled with pain and suffering, we’d try, as we are able, to save that person from that dark eventuality.
If a loved one of yours was in the grip of a destructive habit, you’d act to intervene.
If a child of yours was behaving in ways that would create durable defects of character, you’d act to intervene.
If a friend of yours was making poor choices, you’d act to intervene, if only with a gentle conversation expressing concern and worry.
If your place of work was failing or making bad ethical decisions, you’d act to intervene.
If your nation was falling apart, you’d act, at least with your one vote and voice, to intervene.
If the culture around you was sliding into sickness and depravity, you’d act to intervene.
If you see people harming others, you’d act to intervene.
And if you see people being wounded by sin and destined for hell, you’d act to intervene.
All this and more. It is the compassionate thing to do.
In the last post I described the varieties of hopeful eschatology. Throwing around the word “universalism” isn’t very helpful in these discussions. And one of the biggest misunderstandings concerns belief in hell. The accusation that “universalists don’t believe in hell” is a falsehood. And brothers and sisters in Christ shouldn’t traffic in falsehoods. To be sure, tempers flare in theological debates. But it's an ethical duty to get your facts straight. As I described in the last post, there are varieties of hopeful eschatologies that (1) make exclusive claims about Jesus and (2) believe in hell (as a purgative consequence of sin).
That said, as I mentioned in the first post, there does seem to be a lack of evangelistic urgency among progressive, liberal Christians. Is this because, unlike what I shared above, they don’t believe in hell?
They might not. But a lot of liberal mainline churches do believe in hell. At least in their confessional statements and catechisms. For example, from the Anglican tradition, not known for Trumpy evangelicalism, this is from The Book of Common Prayer:
Q. What do we mean by heaven and hell?
A. By heaven, we mean eternal life in our enjoyment of God; by hell, we mean eternal death in our rejection of God.
So a belief in hell is there. But, of course, an endorsement of that belief, among both the clergy and the laity, is a wholly different thing and likely varies widely from person to person and parish to parish.
And yet, I think all this is missing the crucial point. The issue isn’t really about who believes in hell or not at the creedal, dogmatic, doctrinal, and catechetical level. People might “believe in hell” but lack evangelistic fervor. Importantly for this series, this also doesn’t have anything to do with whether or not hell is infinite or finite. Hell can be both finite and grievous.
So what is the critical issue for evangelism? If it’s not belief in hell or about the duration of hell, then where is the urgency coming from?
My answer is this: The issue concerns the severity of sin. If sin is grievous, a location of suffering, pain, and harm to self and others, then it demands urgent remedy.
Go back to my examples above. In every case, except the debatability of the last one, the pain and suffering is finite. And yet, we’d intervene. Because it is compassionate to alleviate suffering, pain, and harm.
Given this reframe, that the issue is less about “believing in hell” than alarm about the grievousness of sin, let’s revisit the role of hell in motivating evangelistic urgency. Simply stated, I think evangelistic passion is more about hamartiology than eschatology, more about what we believe about sin than about the ultimate, mysterious destiny of human persons. Is sin a big deal or not? That, to my eyes, is the key question. Set eschatology aside, I think that’s the root problem with regard to evangelism in progressive, liberal spaces. Whether or not hell is real and infinite really isn’t the main issue. These are, truly, abstract metaphysical questions akin to counting the number of angels that can dance on the head of a needle. The pressing pastoral issue is whether you think sin is a grievous location of pain, suffering, and harm. Our beliefs about hell (our eschatology) sit downstream of this hamartiological assessment. If sin is no big deal, then evangelistic urgency wanes. But if sin is a five-alarm fire, then a compassionate desire to rescue and help wells up in your soul.
When it comes to evangelism, hamartiology, rather than eschatology, is primary.
Now, could not a fire-and-brimstone evangelist throw a little eschatological wood on the fire? That is, in addition to drawing attention to the grievousness of sin—its effects upon our lives, the lives of those we love, and upon the wider world—could we not also mention that an eternity of torment awaits you upon your death?
You could, but I think fire-and-brimstone gospel proclamations face some issues in an increasingly post-Christian culture. I’ll turn to some of those issues in the coming posts.

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