Consider Abraham

The whole question of hell — the biblical image of eternal torment for sin — is deeply problematic for a lot of people. Truth be told, the objection begins as emotional recoil, not logical reasoning. The idea of torment at all is disturbing, and eternal torment seems unbelievable and unacceptable. But the problem, of course, is that it’s biblical. It’s not a medieval invention crafted by religious extremists. Jesus Himself said it.

He spoke of “eternal punishment” (Matthew 25:46) and described a place where “their worm does not die, and the fire is not quenched” (Mark 9:47–48; cf. Isaiah 66:24). He said of the unpardonable sin that such a person will not be forgiven “in this age or the age to come” (Matthew 12:32). Paul referred to “eternal destruction” (2 Thessalonians 1:8–9). Revelation is explicit: “the smoke of their torment goes up forever and ever” (Revelation 14:11), and the devil, the beast, and the false prophet are “tormented day and night forever and ever” (Revelation 20:10). That phrase “forever and ever” is the same phrase used for eternal life (cf. Revelation 22:5; John 3:16), which creates a serious problem for anyone who wants to make it mean “not eternal.” Scripture’s language is stubbornly consistent.

In thinking about this objection, Abraham came to mind.

When God came to Abraham and told him what He intended to do to Sodom and Gomorrah, He said, “Their sin is very grave” (Genesis 18:20). Abraham — compassionate, perceptive, and deeply concerned for justice — protested: “Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?” (Genesis 18:23). His concern was not sentimentality; it was justice. His protest was correct: “Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?” (Genesis 18:25).

Isn’t that our protest over hell? “That’s not fair! That’s not just! Eternal torment for our little sins is not a reasonable response.”

God’s response to Abraham is instructive. He did not rebuke Abraham for questioning. He affirmed the very principle Abraham appealed to: God will not punish the righteous with the wicked (cf. Psalm 7:11; Romans 2:5–11). If there were even ten righteous in the city, He would spare it (Genesis 18:26–32). God promised justice. No one would suffer wrongly.

You remember the outcome. God removed Lot and his family to safety (Genesis 19:15–17), and the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah became legendary — the archetype of “fire and brimstone” (Genesis 19:24–28; Jude 7). And of the “righteous” people God saved, Lot’s wife looked back and was turned to salt (Genesis 19:26), and his daughters got him drunk and committed incest (Genesis 19:30–38). Scripture calls Lot “righteous” (2 Peter 2:7–8), but clearly not because of his moral performance. His righteousness was the result of God’s covenant mercy, not his own virtue (cf. Genesis 15:6; Romans 4:3–8).

This is precisely the point.

When we apply that story to the question of hell, we find ourselves standing where Abraham stood. We ask, “Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?” And God answers the same way He answered Abraham: Yes. He will (Deuteronomy 32:4; Psalm 89:14).

If, then, God does punish some with eternal torment, we can be absolutely certain it is just. Our responsibility is not to reshape God into the image of our emotional preferences, but to reshape our understanding of justice to match His (Romans 9:14–23).

And perhaps the deeper issue is this: Our “little sins” are not little. They are not minor missteps or trivial moral blemishes. They are assaults on the infinite worth of the Most High God (Psalm 51:4). The seriousness of sin is measured not by the size of the act but by the dignity of the One sinned against (cf. Hebrews 10:29). A violation against the Eternal God carries an eternal weight (Romans 6:23).

So Abraham’s question becomes our anchor: “Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?” Yes. And when His justice and our emotions collide, it is our emotions — not His justice — that must yield.