Fighting Satan

Imagine this. You are a soldier going out to war. You have been well trained (or perhaps not so well-trained) and are now stepping out onto the battlefield (of course, all humans are on the spiritual battlefield from the moment of birth, but that's beside the point).

You step out from cover and, instead of immediately defending yourself, you just stand there. The enemy laughs, thinking that you must have a death wish. They race to you, the easiest prey. “Hey look, there's a sitting duck! <Snicker, snicker>” And soon you are dead and being buried. (In a spiritual sense, you are buried into Hell.)

Now, is it fun being dead and buried? Tell me, are the flames of Hell quite warm and cozy? Was it fun to have just given up your life, when you could have lived on for many more happy days with friends and family? Is it pleasant to have passed away from your family of fellow Christians and your best friend and savior Jesus? To have died and been buried in the flames of impending doom?

And imagine what your commander must be thinking. He must be very disappointed. “Why, what a waste of life, of training, of education, of the shelter and food that we have provided you, of the time and effort that I have put into training you!” “Fight! Don't just sit there and die!” he must have yelled as he saw your pitiful case. But no, you were too lazy. You didn't feel like fighting. 'I'll just sit here,” you said. “It would be nice to fight, but I just don't care anymore.”

So tell me. Is it pleasant to die? Is it pleasant to be dead? Are you enjoying your eternal stay in Hell Sauna, Hell Hot Tub, Hell Heater, Hell Fire? Now you know things worse than what the Jews knew during the Holocaust. Congratulations.

Or perhaps that story didn't get to you enough? Perhaps you will relate to this one better:

You are sitting on your couch, in your La-Z-Boy, whatever, enjoying a nice afternoon, evening, etc, watching your favorite show, reading a favorite book, or whatever else you love to do. Then this teen punk—exactly what demons are, compared to God—abruptly barges into your house without even knocking. This teen is carrying a huge blowtorch, and laughing. He goes over to your nice leather couch and sets it on fire. Your antique dining room table goes next. Then your 70-inch plasma TV. After that comes another favorite or treasured possession, and then another. Are you just going to keep sitting there and letting him destroy all of your possessions? Are you even going to perhaps help him out by giving him a second blowtorch? And then are you going to just sit there as your house burns down around you, and not even run to safety? Will you sit there and willingly be burned to death? If so, then have fun. After all, what could be more fun than even a little burning, much less being burned to death?