What I Believed About Holiness Before I Understood Grief
(Originally published November 27, 2015 | lightly edited)
“But as for cowards, the faithless, the corrupt, murderers, the sexually immoral, idolaters, and all liars, their place will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.”
— Revelation 21:8
The closing chapters of Scripture do not argue. They summarize. They do not negotiate. They describe what belongs in eternity — and what cannot survive it.
What has always struck me is that the dividing line is not intelligence, doctrine, or even religious fluency. It is holiness — not as moral exhibitionism, but as a life set apart from self-destruction.
Cowardice is not holy.
Unfaithfulness fractures trust.
Dirty-mindedness corrodes the inner life.
Lies eventually isolate the liar.
These are not arbitrary rules. They are descriptions of what leads to tears.
Revelation places the wiping away of tears right alongside the call to holiness — and that pairing is no accident. So much of our suffering is delayed consequence. We grasp for comfort now and grieve later. We break bonds and are surprised by the pain. We tell ourselves a lie and wonder why the world feels unreal.
Holiness, joy, and peace are not opposites. They are aligned.
Ten years ago, I wrote with conviction because I believed — and still believe — that God’s warnings are acts of mercy. They are not meant to shame us, but to spare us from becoming people who can no longer receive joy.
Time has not made that conviction smaller.
It has made it more compassionate.
