More Vuja De - When Hell is a Laughing Matter

This is a post I don't really want to write - but in the interest of being as transparent as possible, I will.
 
I don't want to write it because it necessitates a confession, and it's bad enough that I said what I said in front of a table full of family members.  Now I am about to repeat it online for all who care to read.   And I am seriously embarrassed by what came out of my mouth and I am reminded of Jesus teaching the religious folks of his day that "it's what comes out of the mouth that makes us unclean."
 
But I risk sharing this because it was another "vuja de" moment for me. (Vuja De = seeing something familiar with new eyes, as if for the first time.  The opposite of deja vu.)
 
Also, it (kind of) gives me a chance to apologize to those at the table. (Sorry!)
 
What I said followed a couple of stories regarding a pastor I used to know.  They were meant to paint him in a very negative light - all while we sat around the Thanksgiving meal, for heaven's sake!  Now, to be sure, this man was extremely ill-suited for the ministry.  He was mean as a snake, rude and sneaky.  But this was 20+ years ago and I am almost certain he has passed away, so it should all be water under the bridge, right?
 
Anyway, I told these stories about this man and then someone asked, "Where is he now?"  And I blurted out, "I don't know ... burning in hell, I think." 
 
This elicited nervous, shocked laughter from some around the table ...
 
... And a rebuke in my spirit.  Instant regret!  But I had no time to analyze it in the moment (or to apologize) as the conversation continued on in a different direction. 
 
So here's why I call it "vuja de" - I have often told stories about this pastor over the last two decades and have often been asked "where is he now?'  And my stock answer became: "I think he moved to a warmer climate."  That was my "funny" way to state two propositions and a conclusion. Prop 1 - he was not really a believer.  Prop 2 - he has probably passed into eternity.  Conclusion - he is currently separated from God for eternity.  For some reason, yesterday I was much more blunt, but in essence I was saying the same thing I had said for years.
 
The sting I felt in my spirit wasn't so much about me 'judging' his destiny (though that can obviously be shaky ground).  After all, Jesus did say that there would be false teachers and you would know them by their fruit.  I don't know that many church members around this country would argue that, in general, there are a lot of people in a lot of pulpits who have no business being there.  And I'm not talking about the ones who are well-meaning but incompetent; I mean the ones who don't even seem to believe - or practice - an ounce of what they preach.  And the Apostle Paul warns us that "teachers" within the church need to be extra careful because they will be judged more harshly in the End. 
 
No, the sting of the rebuke was more along these lines: "Hell is a real place of real torment.  It is NOT something you would ever wish on your worst enemy.  And it is NOT something to be flippant about."
 
In a way, this experience of vuja de is an extension of the one I wrote of the other day - about doing the will of God.  Because if Jesus leaves us with The Great Commission, urging us to "go" and to "make disciples", then we have to grapple with the reality of what happens if we DON'T go and if we DON'T make disciples.
 
Eternal destinies hang in the balance.  And that is serious business.
 
So here's my new and improved answer just 24 hours later, in lieu of what God is (patiently) teaching me:
"I don't know where this man is.  I believe he has passed away.  I sincerely hope he had the opportunity to repent and truly trust in Christ before he slipped into eternity."   
 
 
P.S.  Whoops!  It just occurred to me to Google his name ... and it appears he is still among the living.  (He must have been much younger than he looked back when I knew him!)  I believe God is telling me it is high time to let go of any remaining bitterness on my part and forgive the man, right?  I feel like I have a reprieve.  I'm praying for you, Rev! (And I really mean that.)  I want for you what none of us deserve...