Hell. It’s not a popular subject these days. No one wants to talk about it, much less go there. I have a friend who actually wrote a full-blown, hardback book on hell. Needless to say, it wasn’t a bestseller!

Part of me wants to forget I ever heard the word. I don’t want to believe there is a place of eternal torment that nonbelievers will spend suffering — forever. Besides, I want people to like me. I don’t want them to view me as a weird fanatic who spews intolerant doctrines left over from the dark ages. I want to be cool, hip, with it — especially to the next generation.

But the other part of me desperately wants to share the gospel with everyone I can in order to save them from the terrible consequences that accompany their rejection of God’s love.

Heaven and hell hang in the balance in many university classrooms across the world. Thousands of professors are modern-day Pharisees, albeit in different forms. In place of God’s truth, they’ve constructed their own religions — sometimes avowedly “spiritual,” other times openly secular. Either way, they’re eager to make converts. Jesus didn’t respond too kindly to these type folks:

Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you travel land and sea to win one proselyte, and when he is won, you make him twice as much a son of hell as yourselves. (Matthew 23:15, NKJV)

Jesus might very well label these so-called educators “professors from hell.” Some slyly seduce students to open up their minds to all forms of “truth” while others love to chew up young, inexperienced Christians and spit them out just for sport. The college classroom is a modern-day battlefield for the hearts and minds of millions of still-impressionable underclassmen.

Here are three real-life stories from “down under,” all of them about profs I’ve known while I was a student or since then.

The Bully

With his long white goatee and hand-carved cane, this prof liked to make a slow, deliberate entrance into his classroom. In the first few days of each semester he would defiantly challenge the Christians in his class to stand up — and thus prove their allegiance to Jesus. He then proceeded to rip them to shreds, seeking to destroy every cherished belief these young believers held dear.

One by one, they sat down, feeling embarrassed and defenseless in the wake of these scorching assaults by the esteemed doctor who had more degrees behind his name than they could count. His thick glasses, brown cardigan sweater, and long pointy fingers only added to the authoritative mystique he tried to create.

After 45 minutes of non-stop, blistering attacks, a young freshman girl was the only one left standing, determined not to sit down in spite of his now face-to-face hostile condemnations. Totally exasperated, the professor finally blurted out, “I have read the entire Bible. It doesn’t make a bit of sense. How in the world can you believe in such a confusing, outdated document?”

All eyes were turned toward this petite, but now highly respected Christian student; everyone straining to hear her response to the professor’s question. “Well sir,” she began, looking directly at the man, “I can tell you why you didn’t understand it. You see, the Bible is a love letter from God — to His children. I guess that’s what you get for reading other people’s mail!”

The large class erupted into laughter and applause. Even the professor, with all his pontificating, realized the little girl with the big heart had bested him. He gave her a nod of admiration, turned to the class and said “see you on Monday” — and walked out.

The Charmer

Young and preppy, this charming religion prof was a hit with almost all his students. Not only did he write volumes on caring for the environment and animals, he’d recruit everyone he could to join him in his feel-good causes. “God is everywhere, in everything, in every moment” he would say with such compassion and conviction. “He loves you, He loves the animals, He loves that tree,” pointing towards an evergreen outside his book-laden office.

His greatest moment of triumph each year was his “any boat will get you there” sermon to the students. His theory was that all humans live on one side of a giant river and the afterlife is on the other side. His crowd-pleasing solution was that most will hop on the big ships (like Christianity, Judaism, Islam); others will choose medium-size boats (Native American religion, Wicca); while a few creative souls will simply design their own little “self-made religions” to ferry themselves across. But “we will all get to our ‘heaven’ or ‘nirvana’ or whatever you want to call it — no exceptions,” he assured his listeners. “The only question will be how we get across.”

My pastor, who was asked by some students there to present the “Jesus is the only way” perspective, responded to the prof by saying, “If you’re right and I’m wrong, then all of us are in good shape, regardless of what we believe. But if I’m right, and you’re wrong — then you’re in a heap of trouble!” Then he quoted Jesus in John 14:6,

I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father, but through Me.

Not wanting to lose his influence with the students, this handsome, charismatic prof quickly countered that anyone who hadn’t been living under a rock the last 100 years would surely agree with him that there are no absolutes. Sitting at the back, I slyly lifted my hand and asked, “Are you absolutely sure about that?”

Naughty me! I couldn’t resist.

The Revisionist

This middle-aged professor (and school chaplain) with his dark, bushy, walrus-like mustache and rounded glasses, considered himself quite the academic. His most recent accomplishment had been completing a commentary on the book of 3rd Timothy. (Man, did I feel ignorant — I thought there were only two letters to Timothy.) He scoffed at my antiquated form of Christianity where I simply read the Bible and accepted it as God’s word.

He, instead, chose to follow “higher criticism” and subscribed to the conclusions of a world-renowned group called The Jesus Seminar. This specially chosen collection of 30 “scholars” sit around a large table and evaluate different statements in the gospels traditionally attributed to Jesus. After reading and debating a passage as to its validity, each person gets to cast their vote. They choose between four different colored pebbles in front of them:

Red: Jesus undoubtedly said this or something very like it.
Pink: Jesus probably said something like this.
Gray: Jesus did not say this, but the ideas contained in it are close to his own.
Black: Jesus did not say this; it represents the perspective or content of a later or different tradition.

I guess we’re supposed to be grateful. These self-described “fellows” (hey, isn’t that a little sexist for such a progressive group?) have walked the extra mile (hey, did Jesus really tell that parable?) for the unenlightened masses by creating for us their own “Red Letter” version of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. So which verses truly belong there? According to them, the answer is — hardly any. See, the majority rules, and the red pebbles won out on only 6 percent of the passages in our beloved gospels. (Who knows, maybe it’s all a marketing ploy in order to create the “ultra thin” Bible that fits on your thumbnail.) These humble servants have concluded that the Bible is inspired only in spots — and they’re inspired to pick out the spots!

This, dear readers, is the epitome of arrogance. I have to wonder (though I suspect I know the answer) how this crew would vote on Revelation 22:19 — not by coincidence, part of the final verses in the New Testament:

If anyone takes words away from this book of prophecy, God will take away from him his share in the tree of life and in the holy city, which are described in this book.

I’m afraid their search for the “historical Jesus” will last a long time. In fact, it will last clear into eternity when, on judgment day, they will finally meet the Jesus of history — face to face. Philippians 2:10-11 teaches:

That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

By that time, though, all the voting will be over with and I think our Jesus Seminar friends will be shocked their revered colored pebbles didn’t matter one whit. What counted was simply a yes or no to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. Jesus will not waste any time by asking, “Who do scholars say that I am?” Instead, He’ll be too busy giving us the real Jesus Seminar, revealing His power, glory, radiance — and judgment.

Epilogue

Sad to say, that sometimes, we Christians are no different than the Jesus Seminar bunch. We look at Christ as if we’re ordering a new SUV. “Let’s see…give me the sunroof, CD player, and bucket seats, but leave out the chrome wheels and window tint.” We pick and choose what parts of Jesus we like, thus attempting to create our own version of the Son of God.

Sorry, it’s an all-or-nothing proposition. Either we believe and receive the Jesus of the Bible — or we don’t. It’s really very simple: He is both Savior and Lord and we don’t get to divide Him up into little pieces, embracing some and tossing out others. You better cast your vote now. I don’t want you to be surprised like these professors from hell who:

Professing to be wise . . . became fools. (Romans 1:22)

Next Time: Some Good Profs