Hell is the emptiness that is felt when God seems to be absent, Clifton Spangler points out, showing how the struggle of life can reveal that emptiness. In Finding God Every DayRebecca Simon guides us how God’s presence can be felt even in everyday moments. Find out more below.
They will be punished with eternal destruction and shut out from the face of the Lord and from the glory of his power. — 2 Thessalonians 1:9
I used to imagine hell as a place—the burning pit vividly depicted in Sunday school stories, full of flames and the devil lurking in the shadows. But that image now feels so small, so far away. Hell is not just some distant eternal punishment waiting to devour the lost. It’s faster and more personal than that. Hell is a place where God is not—a quiet, empty place that can invade your life before you die.
For me, God is the anchor. She is a steadying presence when work overwhelms me, a whisper that tells me I am enough when doubt creeps in, and an unconditional love that resonates through a chaotic world. He is the peace I find in prayer. You make sure I am seen and heard, no matter how chaotic I am. So when I say hell is wherever God is not, I mean the absence of all that. Not by literal burning or torture—it is the emptiness that exists when His presence feels unattainable. And I’ve felt that emptiness more times than I care to count.
There are times when life presents that kind of hell. It is in the wonderful silence after the breakup of a long-term friendship or a painful space that a passionate love crumbles, when you realize that the connection you depended on is gone. It’s a restless night staring into the darkness, wondering if anything really matters. I know of times of loss—times when God felt so far away I couldn’t put together a prayer. It is not a punishment from above. It’s just…absence, a space where the light fades and you’re left holding on to something solid.
That is hell—not an endless fiery place of physical torment, but the crushing weight of being cut off from hope, even briefly. It makes me wonder if hell isn’t always a lie of the enemy: that we are abandoned, that God doesn’t care. It is a trick to distract us from the truth, which is that we have a choice, in this world and in the next, to accept God’s love or reject it. This is what free will is all about. God never leaves us; we are from Him.
The story of the Bible begins with Adam and Eve to choose walking in paradise by disobeying God. They could have lived in the Garden of Eden if they had obeyed his one simple command. Instead they said, “We’re out of here.”
I think it’s less about God’s absence and less about me—my choice to stop looking, to stop trusting, to shut him out. I’ve done that before. I let his pride or hurt wall, like when I was so angry at the betrayal that I completely turned my back on him. Hell is not God condemning me; I am the one who leaves, I choose the shadow over the light and he does not stop giving.
But here’s the part that keeps me going. If hell is anywhere where God is not, then I’m not stuck there. I’ve learned that through the hard days—the heartbreak, the failures, the times I wanted to give up. When that space begins to close, I can retreat through worship, through silent devotion, through the prayer of a friend over the phone.
I have sat with my journal, pouring out the chaos to Him, and felt His presence fill and come back from within. At least before we die, hell doesn’t need to stay, because God doesn’t stay far away—not when I reach for Him.
So yes, hell is wherever God is not. It’s real, raw, and visible in ways I never saw coming. But it is not the last word. Heaven isn’t just a future prize—it’s wherever He is now, in the little touches, the fleeting joys, the reminders that I’m not alone. I saw you in the kindness of a stranger, the peace of the morning, the strength to try again. Hell is absence, but He is, and I cling to that through all the twists and turns of this life.
