“I know a person who is convinced their deceased brother is in hell because of who they loved
I told them that if hell is real, I don’t think it is a destination
I believe hell is a campsite that gets formed in the hearts of people who judge others for living a life that they refuse to try and understand
Those who condemn others to damnation are the very architects of hell on Earth my love
Let us build a heaven in the space that exists between my life and yours
Let us create an endless garden paradise where every single exotic flower is honored
Let us form a community of angels who don’t try and polish each other’s halos
We only have so many heartbeats left inside of us to waste a single one on deciding who gets to grow like a sunflower under the light of the hereafter
Who knows what happens to us once our bodies release our souls like birthday party balloons?
Why spend an ounce of energy on deciding who gets to go to heaven when we can spend our lives building it here on Earth with the bricks of how we treat each other?
Until I hear the harps and see the golden gates, I’m going to consider this world the Promised Land
And I promise to be as kind as I can be with your heart while we are here together.”
John Roedel
King Edward Street Chapel 