The Larger Hope

When I was very young, my mother would take my three siblings and me to a small Assembly of God church in West Texas. The church actually started meeting in a tin building whose walls didn’t reach the floor. By the time I was nine, the church had built a building with room enough for three aisles of pews.

One Sunday morning I remember we were singing, “...I heard an old, old story how a Savior came from glory...” Truthfully, how wretched can a nine-year-old be? But the words cut to my heart. Thank God for a mother who trusted the Holy Spirit, because I looked up at Mom and told her, “I need to go down to the front.”

I didn’t know what I was going to do. I didn’t really know how to pray or what to say. I just knew down deep that if I could get where the “big folks” go, everything would be all right. Mom looked at me, smiled, nodded her head, and let me walk into the aisle and go to the front.

I don’t really remember what happened from stepping into the aisle, but I knew something had changed. The next day at elementary school, one of my classmates snickered at a girl and made a rude gesture about her to a group of boys I was standing with. I still remember getting physically sick to my stomach—and that is how my journey began.

I wish I could say I never strayed from that moment, but that would be untrue. I was not faithful to my Father, but He has always been faithful to me.

You would think I would understand grace. I have preached it, taught it, walked in it, and shared it with many. But truth be told, the grace I knew was a “limited grace.” I was taught that you come to Jesus and He wipes the “sin chalkboard” clean. But then He starts writing again, and the only way to keep a “clean chalkboard” is to continuously return in repentance and prayer. That is most likely NOT what I was being taught, but that is what I heard.

So of course, as I began to preach and teach, guess what came out. If what I was teaching and preaching was not the whole truth, no one ever corrected me—except for one sweet lady I called “MawMaw.” Many times she tried to explain the love of God to me. I would believe that I understood, but when my belief would be tested or filtered, it always came back as “limited grace.”

Throughout my journey I cannot count the number of times a doctrine or belief I had espoused—and tried to live—would be challenged by that small voice inside me. The same voice, or nudge if you will, that beckoned that nine-year-old.

That nudge eventually led me to the truth of grace—unlimited, eternal, and loving—around the age of fifty. After twenty-five years of pastoring and teaching, I had finally come to the revelation of true grace. There was no “chalkboard.” There was only my Father’s love.

Father loved me enough to let LIFE reveal truth and His heart—oh, what immeasurable love the Father has for us. Over my journey, many “doctrinal balloons” (a lesson taught by Dez Evans many years ago) Father would use for target practice… all to reveal His love through the finished work of Christ.

One of the latest challenges to my “doctrinal balloons” was the doctrine of an eternal hell, with all the torment it included. This challenge began almost eight years ago, and like all the other “balloons,” it took quite some time to be settled in my heart.

The culmination of this particular “balloon” bursting came about around 2 a.m. one morning as I was lying on a wet pillow. You see, I had lain awake crying for close to two hours—completely overwhelmed by the love of my Father. This was an encounter with His love like nothing I had ever experienced.

Each of my children were brought to me (anyone who has had the Holy Spirit reveal Himself knows of what I speak), and He simply asked me, “...If you love your children this deeply, and My capacity for love for you and each of My children exceeds that beyond your comprehension, would I ever give up on them?” He seemed to emphasize the word “ever.”

Of course, the balloon did not burst instantly. Just as He uses LIFE to teach us His love for us, He used the next few years of life to get to the final “pop.” Even when the “eternal hell” balloon was burst, I only discussed its demise with a select few individuals—and even then, only when the subject would arise in conversation.

The final “dart” came this past summer when I was attending our 55-year high school reunion. A dear brother and I were talking about the Lord, and during the conversation he said, “...one day we will look over into hell and laugh at the people that did not believe our report...” I was left speechless and did the best I could to crawfish out of the conversation as quickly as possible.

It was at that moment I realized that if I continued to be silent—even if my voice is misunderstood—“...how dwells the love of God in me...”

Doubtless, there are many friends—and even family—who will question not only the demise of an eternal hell from my belief system, but to some, my very sanity, I’m sure. It is to these readers that I have to reiterate: I’m still Dave, still deeply in love with my Lord Jesus, more settled in my Father’s love for us than ever before, and more assured of His grace than ever.

I am more than willing to have discourse on the subject of “The Larger Hope,” but I ask that every conversation be seasoned with love. If a judgmental heart/response is detected by either of us, may we agree to disagree and walk to the New Jerusalem hand in hand as brothers and sisters—because we are.

Father, I commend these conversations to You in Jesus’ Name. I ask that LOVE permeates and orders every conversation—that each of us come to a deeper understanding and revelation of the depth of Your love for us, and that we live out that LOVE with each person we encounter in this journey—in Jesus’ Name. Maranatha!

If you’re new to this conversation, I invite you to start with the first post in the Blog section below and walk with me from Scripture outward.