Osama bin Laden, day one.
This must be how God felt back when I marched up to usurp his authority. Osama came strutting up like he’s someone, but, of course, he isn’t anymore, so he was soon flailing about and shouting that there must be some kind of mistake. Then, like everyone else, he turned to bargaining and started looking around to see who’s in charge, just waiting to make his demands. I just sat back and smiled, thinking this is going to be fun. Who does this guy think he is?
I tried to break the ice with this bad boy: “Hey, man, you winkin’ at me?”
Ha ha ha ha ha.
But ol’ Osama just looked around with that look I’ve seen a billion times, the look of shocked realization that says, “Uh oh, I think I just wasted my only life, didn’t I?”
I love it. I waited silently as his eye rolled about the darkness wondering where all his friends were, and wondering suspiciously just who I might be. This scene is played out daily down here. Few people realize the sudden jaw-dropping, stomach-wrenching shock that awaits those who refuse to escape my clutches on earth.
Some come in pride; some come in denial; some come in utter surprise; and still some come in complete expectation. Osama came in surprised denial, instinctively looking for someone to shout at, order around, or otherwise cover for him. But I saw the squint in his eye as he realized that he was suddenly and completely alone, separated from all that is good, which even by his standards is a terrifyingly paralyzing stretch of separation.
The best description I found for the dynamic we see played out here every day comes from a book written by Godpunk Randy Alcorn, entitled Safely Home:
One moment after men die, they know exactly how they should have lived. But then it is too late to go back and live their lives over again. Too late for the unbeliever, in the jaws of hell. But also too late for the believer, who cannot relive his life, remake his choices, this time following his King more faithfully.
And I got to watch Osama’s moment.
I get to watch a lot of moments.
In fact, I relish these moments because each one is another confirmation of just how well I deceived another image-bearing person into believing a false gospel, a false religion, or a false philosophy.
But truth floods the eternally existing being of each new irredeemable theist who tumbles in my gates, a terrifying truth of a life wasted both on earth and in eternity.
Osama is just one more wasted nobody in Hell now.
Of course, I did enjoy telling him that we’re clean out of virgins down here.
Ha ha ha ha ha.