Not of this world
As a cattle rancher, I’m often presented with ample opportunities to ponder some of life’s greater questions. One of the most persistent is the meaning of life itself. While driving to the lease pastures the other day, I found myself thinking about heaven and hell, and what ultimately leads a person to one or the other. These places—if assumed to be real—are abstract, yet the outcomes of ending up in either are anything but. What follows is my attempt to put those thoughts on paper.
I’ve often heard it said that only a cruel God would send humans to hell, or that “hell is just made up; if God is all-loving, He wouldn’t actually send any of us there.” As usual, ignorance shines through in these statements. While hell is a man-made name we’ve given to this “place,” it’s important to note that it was not created for humans. Scripture teaches that it was created for the fallen ones and for those who choose to align themselves with them—commonly referred to as “the devil.” Humans only end up there by their own choosing.
Scripture often references—or assumes familiarity with—period-appropriate literature and culture, because context matters. I say all of that to say this: when you read the Bible, make sure you understand the words you’re reading. Only then can the teachings be applied in a meaningful and practical way. It’s difficult to “be in the world but not of the world” if you don’t understand what that phrase actually means.
A common example of this misunderstanding shows up in discussions about alcohol. Some argue that drinking is inherently sinful because Biblical wine “wasn’t fermented.” In reality, wild yeast was so prevalent in that time period that bakers and brewers didn’t need to add it to their recipes the way we do today. Fermented drinks were also safer than water, as the fermentation process killed harmful bacteria. Drinking water mixed with wine was not only common practice but also encouraged.
In keeping with the importance of context, when Jesus speaks of being “lukewarm” and warns that He will “spit you out,” He’s referencing a very practical problem: unpleasant, lukewarm water. It is neither cold and refreshing nor hot and useful for healing or cleansing. This passage is often reduced to the phrase, “You must always be on fire for God—don’t be a lukewarm Christian.” I believe the meaning is much deeper, rooted in honest self-reflection about the direction of our spiritual walk. If the souls we influence are what truly matter, then our interactions with others should carry real weight. Are we cold and refreshing? Hot and healing? Or simply repulsive?
If we’re honest, many of us prefer to remain lukewarm as a form of self-protection—out of fear of losing some part of our identity as a “peacemaker.” We stay silent when we should speak and remain passive when action is required, all in the name of keeping the peace. On a cattle ranch, when it’s time for action, you’d better show up—because the situation is often a matter of life or death. The moment itself may not be peaceful, but when the outcome is life over death, who really cares?