Chapter 22
When most people hear the word "fire" in connection with hell, they think of one thing: torture. They picture a dark underground cavern lit by roaring flames, where God sends the wicked to burn forever and ever. That image has been painted on cathedral walls, preached from pulpits, and burned into the minds of Christians for a thousand years. But what if that picture is wrong? What if we have been reading the Bible's fire passages through the wrong set of glasses?
Here is what I want to show you in this chapter: when the Bible talks about fire in connection with God and judgment, it is not talking about a punishment God inflicts on people from the outside. It is talking about God Himself. Fire in Scripture is connected again and again—not to a torture chamber far from God, but to the very presence of the living God. The fire is God's presence. The fire is God's love. And how you experience that fire depends entirely on the condition of your heart.
Think about the sun for a moment. The same sun that makes flowers bloom also scorches a desert. The same sun that warms your skin on a spring afternoon will blind you if you stare straight at it. The sun doesn't change. The difference is in what it touches and in how prepared we are to receive its light. That is exactly how fire works in the Bible. God's fire is His love, His holiness, His blazing glory. For those who love Him, it is warmth and light and life. For those who hate Him, it is agony—not because God has changed, but because a sin-hardened heart cannot bear the weight of perfect Love.1
In this chapter, we are going to walk through the major "fire" passages of Scripture, one by one. We will look at what the original words mean, how the passages fit in their context, and what they tell us about the nature of God's judgment. I believe you will see a remarkable pattern emerge: fire in the Bible is not about vindictive torture. It is about the presence, purification, and consuming love of a holy God. And that pattern changes everything about how we understand hell.
We addressed in Chapter 21 the critical difference between Hades (the temporary waiting place of the dead) and Gehenna or the lake of fire (the final state after judgment). Now we turn to the fire itself. What is it? Where does it come from? And what does it do?
I want to be honest with you about something. When I first started studying these passages, I was surprised. I had grown up hearing that fire in the Bible was straightforward: fire equals punishment, end of discussion. But when I actually sat down with the texts and read them carefully—when I looked at the Hebrew and Greek words, when I paid attention to the context, when I asked "Where does this fire come from?" and "What does this fire do?"—I found something very different from what I expected. The fire in the Bible is not against God. It is from God. It is not a place away from God. It is the place where God is. And its purpose, over and over again, is not to torture but to purify, to test, to reveal, and to transform.
The answers are right there in the text. We just have to read it carefully.
“For the LORD your God is a consuming fire, a jealous God.” (Deuteronomy 4:24)
We begin at the beginning—with Moses. This verse is one of the oldest statements about fire in the entire Bible, and it sets the stage for everything that follows. Notice what Moses does not say. He does not say, "God uses fire." He does not say, "God creates fire to punish people." He says God is a consuming fire. The fire is not something separate from God. The fire is God.
The Hebrew word for "consuming" here is ’akal, which means "to eat up" or "to devour." It is the same word used for fire devouring stubble, for flames eating up a field.2 And the word "jealous" is qanna’, which does not mean petty jealousy the way we use the word today. It means a fierce, protective passion—the kind of love a father has for his children, the kind that will not share what it loves with anything that would destroy it.3
The context matters here. Moses is warning Israel not to worship idols. He is saying: Do not give your hearts to dead things, because the living God who loves you will not stand for it—not because He is insecure, but because He knows that idolatry will destroy you. His fire is the fire of love that will consume whatever stands between Him and the people He adores.
This is the foundation verse. Everything else we read about fire and judgment in the Bible grows from this root: God Himself is the fire. The fire is not a tool He picks up when He is angry. It is who He is. And that changes everything.
The traditional ECT reading treats fire as a created punishment, a torture chamber that God builds and maintains forever. But if we take Moses seriously, the fire is not separate from God. It is God. You cannot separate the fire from the One who burns. And if the fire is God—if it is His very nature, His love, His holiness—then the question is not "Will God send fire upon the wicked?" The question is "What happens when the wicked stand in the presence of the One who is fire?"4
That is exactly the question the divine presence model answers.
And this pattern of fire as divine presence is not limited to Deuteronomy. It runs through the entire Old Testament like a blazing thread. God appears to Abraham as a "blazing torch" passing between the pieces of his sacrifice (Gen. 15:17). God speaks to Moses from a burning bush that is not consumed (Exod. 3:1–6). God descends on Mount Sinai in fire so fierce that the mountain shakes and the people tremble (Exod. 19:18; 24:17). God leads His people through the wilderness as a pillar of fire by night (Exod. 13:21). God answers Elijah on Mount Carmel with fire from heaven (1 Kings 18:38). God fills Solomon's temple with fire and glory (2 Chron. 7:1–3). In every case, the fire is not a punishment. It is a manifestation—a visible sign of God's presence, His power, His holiness, His love.57
Pay attention to that. In the Old Testament, when fire falls from heaven, it does not mean "God is angry." It means "God is here." The fire is the calling card of the Almighty. It is how God shows up. And if we carry that understanding into the fire passages about judgment, the entire picture shifts. The fire of judgment is not God being cruel. It is God being present—fully, openly, unavoidably present. And for a sin-hardened heart, that presence is devastating.
“The sinners in Zion are terrified; trembling grips the godless: ‘Who of us can dwell with the consuming fire? Who of us can dwell with everlasting burning?’ He who walks righteously and speaks uprightly, he who despises the gain of oppressions, who shakes his hands, lest they hold a bribe, who stops his ears from hearing of bloodshed and shuts his eyes from looking on evil—he will dwell on the heights.” (Isaiah 33:14–16, ESV)
This passage is stunning, and it is often misunderstood. The sinners in Zion ask a terrified question: "Who can dwell with the consuming fire? Who can dwell with everlasting burning?" Most people assume that this is a description of hell—a place of everlasting burning where sinners are trapped. But look at the answer. The answer to "Who can dwell with the consuming fire?" is not "Nobody." The answer is: the righteous person. The one who walks uprightly, who speaks honestly, who rejects oppression and corruption—that person can dwell with the consuming fire.
Do you see what Isaiah is saying? The "consuming fire" and the "everlasting burning" are not a description of hell. They are a description of God’s presence. The question is not "Who can survive hell?" The question is "Who can survive standing in the presence of a holy God?" And the answer is: only those whose hearts are clean.5
Edward Fudge, the great conditionalist scholar, points out that this verse does not picture the wicked living forever in fiery torment. Instead, it portrays a fire with which no wicked person can possibly "dwell." The fire consumes them. Only the righteous endure it.6 Fudge reads this through the lens of conditional immortality—the fire destroys the wicked. I agree that the fire is not about eternal torment. But I also want us to notice what Fudge himself sees clearly: the consuming fire and the everlasting burning are God Himself. The fire is not a separate place. It is the blazing reality of the divine presence.
On the divine presence model, this passage makes perfect sense. The righteous can dwell in God's consuming fire because they have been purified. Their hearts are open to love. The wicked cannot dwell there—not because God locks them out, but because their sin-hardened hearts cannot bear the heat of perfect holiness. The same fire that is home to the righteous is agony to the wicked. Same fire. Different hearts.7
The earlier verses of Isaiah 33 drive the point home. Isaiah says that when God arises, the wicked will be consumed like "cut thornbushes" and burned "as if to lime" (33:12). Their own sin becomes the fuel. As Fudge notes, no metaphor could describe a more complete destruction.8 But notice: the sinners ignite themselves by their own wickedness. The fire that destroys them flows from the same reality that blesses the righteous. This is not retributive torture from an angry judge. This is the natural result of evil encountering the blazing holiness of God.
“But who can endure the day of his coming? Who can stand when he appears? For he will be like a refiner’s fire or a launderer’s soap. He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver; he will purify the Levites and refine them like gold and silver.” (Malachi 3:2–3)
If any single passage captures the heart of how fire works in the Bible, it is this one. Malachi is writing about the coming of the Lord—and he uses two images. The Lord will come like a refiner’s fire and like a launderer’s soap. Both images are about the same thing: purification, not punishment.
A refiner’s fire is not a destructive fire. A refiner does not throw gold into the furnace to destroy it. He throws gold into the furnace to purify it—to burn away the dross so that only the pure metal remains. The refiner sits patiently beside the crucible, watching the gold, adjusting the heat, waiting for the moment when the impurities have been consumed and the gold shines.9 That is the image Malachi gives us for God's judgment. God does not destroy for the sake of destroying. He refines. He purifies. He burns away what is corrupt so that what is pure can shine.
The Hebrew word for "refine" here is tsaraph, and it means to smelt, to purify metal by fire.10 It is not a word of vengeance. It is a word of craftsmanship. God is the master goldsmith, and His fire is His tool—not for torture, but for transformation.
Notice, too, that Malachi says God will purify the Levites—the priests, the very servants of God. The fire is not reserved for the worst sinners. The fire comes even for those who serve at the altar. As Michael Phillips observes, the fire of purification is not just for the wicked; it is for God's own people and their priests.11 This ought to knock every smug Christian right off their chair. If even the priests need refining, then the fire is not merely a punishment for outsiders. It is God's universal tool for making all things pure.
The ECT reading struggles with this passage. If the fire of judgment is about eternal, unending torture, then what is the refiner doing? A refiner who never finishes refining—who keeps the gold in the furnace forever—is not a craftsman. He is a sadist. The very image Malachi uses demolishes the idea of never-ending punitive fire. Refining has a goal. It has an end point. It is finished when the gold is pure.12
Baker draws attention to the same principle. Fire in Scripture burns up whatever is evil, wicked, or sinful. It devours impurity so that it no longer exists. What remains—if anything—is pure and righteous, "like silver, gold, and precious stones."13 The fire does not consume, devour, or even scorch the pure and the righteous. Only sin and wickedness burn. That is why Daniel's three friends walked through the furnace unharmed: there was nothing impure in them for the fire to consume.14
“As I looked, thrones were set in place, and the Ancient of Days took his seat. His clothing was as white as snow; the hair of his head was white like wool. His throne was flaming with fire, and its wheels were all ablaze. A river of fire was flowing, coming out from before him. Thousands upon thousands attended him; ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him. The court was seated, and the books were opened.” (Daniel 7:9–10)
This is one of the most important passages in the entire Bible for understanding the fire of judgment, and it is one that the divine presence model takes with absolute seriousness.
Look at where the river of fire comes from. It does not flow from a dungeon. It does not flow from a torture chamber far away from God. It flows from before Him—from the throne of the Ancient of Days. The fire proceeds directly from the presence of God. It is not something separate from God. It is the radiance of His glory.15
Manis makes a critical observation here. In Revelation 22:1–5, we read about another river flowing from the throne of God—the river of the water of life, "bright as crystal." Both a river of fire and a river of water proceed from the same throne. On the divine presence model, these two rivers are one and the same reality, experienced differently depending on the condition of the heart. Those in communion with God experience the river as living water—love, peace, refreshment, life. Those in rebellion against God experience the same river as consuming fire—judgment, torment, despair.16
Think about that for a moment. The river of fire in Daniel and the river of the water of life in Revelation both flow from the throne of God. They are the same outpouring. The same divine love. The difference is not in the river. The difference is in the one who stands in its waters.
Kalomiros, drawing on Orthodox iconography, sees exactly the same thing. In the traditional icon of the Last Judgment, a river of fire springs from the throne of Christ and flows between the righteous and the wicked. Kalomiros asks: What is this river of fire? Is it an instrument of torture? Is it an energy of vengeance? And he answers: No. This river of fire "is the river which 'came out from Eden to water the paradise' of old." It is the outpouring of God's love for His creatures. "Love is fire," Kalomiros writes. "Anyone who loves knows this. God is Love, so God is Fire. And fire consumes all those who are not fire themselves, and renders bright and shining all those who are fire themselves."17
Notice also that in Daniel's vision, the fire and the opening of the books happen together. The "court was seated, and the books were opened." On the divine presence model, these "books" are the human heart—laid bare before the penetrating light of God's truth. The fire that flows from the throne is the same reality as the opening of the books: it is the experience of having everything in your soul exposed before the holy love of God.18 We explored this more fully in Chapter 23 on the judgment passages, but here the key point is simple: the fire and the judgment are not separate events. They are two descriptions of the same experience—standing before the unveiled glory of the living God.
Beauchemin likewise draws out the significance of Daniel's vision. He notes that the Ancient of Days sits on a "fiery throne" and that the river of fire pours out "flowing from his presence." The fire is not separate from God. It flows from Him. It is who He is.19
The ECT reading turns this river of fire into a weapon—a stream of punishment flowing from an angry judge. But Daniel does not describe an angry God. He describes a glorious God, robed in white, surrounded by myriads of worshippers, seated in majesty. The fire flows from this majesty. It flows from beauty. It flows from holiness. The divine presence model says: that is exactly right. The fire of judgment is the unveiled glory of the God who is love. And for those who have hardened their hearts against love, that glory is unbearable.20
“Therefore let us be grateful for receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, and thus let us offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire.” (Hebrews 12:28–29, ESV)
Here we come full circle, back to the language of Moses. The author of Hebrews quotes Deuteronomy 4:24 directly: "Our God is a consuming fire." But notice the context. The writer is not threatening people with hell. He is calling believers to worship. He is saying: worship God with reverence and awe, because God is a consuming fire.
The Greek here is pur katanaliskōn—"a fire that devours completely."21 The word katanaliskō means to use up completely, to consume utterly. And the author applies it not to a place of punishment but to the very being of God. God is this fire. He does not merely wield it.
The broader context of Hebrews 12 strengthens the point. Just a few verses earlier, the writer says that the believers have come "to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem" (12:22). This is not a description of hell. This is a description of heaven—the joyful assembly of angels, the church of the firstborn, God the judge of all. And it is this God, the God who dwells in heaven, whom the writer calls a consuming fire. The consuming fire is not in hell. The consuming fire is on the throne.22
As Robin Parry observes in Four Views on Hell, "God himself is a consuming fire. The fire that burns sinners is the holy divine presence itself." This is the same truth that the Orthodox tradition has preserved for centuries: the fire of hell is not a created punishment. It is the uncreated glory of the living God, experienced as torment by those who cannot bear it.23
Earlier in the same letter, the author of Hebrews gives a stark warning to those who reject Christ: "A fearful expectation of judgment and of raging fire that will consume the enemies of God. . . . It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God" (10:26–27, 31). But even here, the fire is tied to God's own being, not to a separate chamber. Fudge notes that this consuming fire "is nothing other than God's holiness, viewed from the standpoint of one who despises it."24
George MacDonald, the great Scottish preacher who influenced C. S. Lewis so deeply, took Hebrews 12:29 as the cornerstone of his entire theology of fire. MacDonald argued that the "consuming fire" of Hebrews is not the fire of wrath but the fire of purifying love. God's fire, MacDonald said, originates in God's love, not in His anger. Its purpose is purification, not punishment. If fire is for purification, MacDonald reasoned, then hell must likewise be for purification. The door swings wide to the possibility that hell's fires are used for the ongoing purifying purposes of God.25
I think MacDonald is on to something important. Whether the final result is destruction (conditional immortality) or eventual restoration (universal reconciliation) is a question we will take up later in this book. But the nature of the fire is not in question. The fire is God. The fire is love. The fire is holy. And the fire purifies.
I want to pause here and notice something about the pillar of fire in Exodus. You've probably heard this story before, but look at it with fresh eyes. When the Israelites fled Egypt, God went before them as a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night (Exod. 13:21–22). When Pharaoh's army chased them to the Red Sea, the same pillar of fire moved behind the Israelites to stand between them and the Egyptians. The pillar gave light to the Israelites but brought darkness and confusion to the Egyptians (Exod. 14:19–20). Same pillar. Same fire. Same God. But two completely opposite experiences. For Israel, the fire was protection, guidance, warmth in the desert night. For Egypt, the fire was terror, confusion, and destruction. This is the divine presence model in its earliest Old Testament form: the same fire that saves the willing destroys the resistant. The fire does not change. The hearts of the people who encounter it change everything.64
“I baptize you with water for repentance. But after me comes one who is more powerful than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor, gathering his wheat into the barn and burning up the chaff with unquenchable fire.” (Matthew 3:11–12)
These words of John the Baptist are some of the most important words in the New Testament about fire. And they are usually read in only one direction: the wheat goes to heaven, the chaff goes to hell. End of story. But there is much more going on here than most people see.
First, notice the parallelism. John says Jesus will baptize "with the Holy Spirit and fire." The Holy Spirit and fire. Not the Holy Spirit or fire. These are connected. At Pentecost, the Holy Spirit came as tongues of fire resting on the heads of the disciples (Acts 2:3). The Spirit and the fire are not two different things. They are two expressions of the same divine reality—the overwhelming presence of God poured out on human beings.26
Second, notice the image of winnowing. A winnowing fork separates wheat from chaff. The wheat is gathered; the chaff is burned. In the traditional ECT reading, this means that the saved go to heaven and the lost burn forever. But that reading misses the crucial detail: the same person contains both wheat and chaff. The winnowing fork separates what is good from what is worthless within us. This is exactly what Paul describes in 1 Corinthians 3:12–15, which we will come to in a moment: the fire tests what is gold and what is straw in each person's life.27
Third, Manis makes a fascinating observation about the audience. John's words were not spoken only to his own disciples. The most immediate listeners were "many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to where he was baptizing," whom John addressed as "You brood of vipers!" (Matt. 3:7). Manis suggests that John may be teaching that everyone will be "baptized" by Christ—immersed in the overwhelming reality of the divine presence. But for some, the experience will be "rivers of living water flowing from within them" (John 7:38), while for others it will be "burning up . . . with unquenchable fire."28 Same baptism. Same immersion. Same fire. Different experience.
The word "unquenchable" is the Greek asbestos, and it does not mean "everlasting" in the sense of going on forever without end. It means "unable to be put out"—fire that cannot be extinguished or resisted.29 An unquenchable fire is a fire that will accomplish its purpose. No one can stop it. No one can put it out. It will burn until it has done what it was meant to do. This language fits perfectly with the image of the refiner's fire: the fire keeps burning until the purification is complete.30
“I came to cast fire on the earth, and would that it were already kindled!” (Luke 12:49, ESV)
This is one of the most striking statements Jesus ever made, and it is often overlooked. Jesus says that He came to cast fire on the earth. He did not say, "I came to rescue people from fire." He said, "I came to bring fire." And He says He wishes it were already burning.
If fire is nothing but punitive torture, this statement is horrifying. Why would the Savior who loves the world wish for torture to come sooner? But if fire is the purifying, transforming presence of God poured out on creation, then the statement makes perfect sense. Jesus longs for the world to be set ablaze with the fire of God's love. He longs for the Spirit to fall like fire at Pentecost. He longs for the purifying flame that will burn away everything that stands between God and His children.31
Manis connects this verse to the broader biblical pattern. The presence of God is a consuming fire, and Jesus is saying that He has come to bring that presence into the world in its fullest form. The fire Jesus casts on the earth is the same fire that flows from the throne in Daniel's vision, the same fire that rested on the heads of the disciples at Pentecost, and the same fire that will consume the world on the last day.32
The very next verse helps us understand: "I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how great is my distress until it is accomplished!" (Luke 12:50). Jesus is talking about the cross. The cross is the fire that Jesus came to bring. And the cross is not an act of retributive punishment. It is the supreme act of self-giving love. The fire Jesus brings is the fire of sacrificial love that transforms everything it touches.
If we follow the logic, we arrive at the heart of the divine presence model. The fire of God is the love of God. The love of God came into the world most fully at the cross. And the same love that saves those who receive it will judge those who reject it—not because love becomes punishment, but because love refused is its own torment.
We should also notice how Jesus' words connect to the broader New Testament witness. When the Holy Spirit fell at Pentecost, the disciples did not run from the fire. They received it. The tongues of flame rested on them, and they were filled with power and joy. But in Acts 5, when Ananias and Sapphira lied to the Holy Spirit, the same divine presence that empowered the church struck them dead. Same Spirit. Same fire. Same presence. Different hearts. The Pentecost fire did not change between chapter 2 and chapter 5 of Acts. What changed was the people who encountered it.58
Think about what this means for the last day. If the fire Jesus came to bring is His own presence—the Spirit poured out on all flesh—then the final judgment is simply the ultimate outpouring. It is the moment when God removes every veil, every barrier, every layer of hiding, and His presence blazes forth in its fullness. For those who love Him, that moment will be Pentecost on a cosmic scale—joy, power, life. For those who have spent their entire existence running from Him, that moment will be unbearable. Not because God has changed. Because there is nowhere left to hide.
“Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw—each one’s work will become manifest, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed by fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each one has done. If the work that anyone has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward. If anyone’s work is burned up, he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire.” (1 Corinthians 3:12–15, ESV)
This passage is remarkable, and it may be the single most important Pauline text for the divine presence model. Paul is writing to believers in Corinth, and he tells them that on the Day of Judgment, the fire will test everyone's work. Some works are gold, silver, and precious stones—they survive the fire. Other works are wood, hay, and straw—they burn up. And here is the astonishing conclusion: even the person whose works are entirely burned up "will be saved, but only as through fire."
There is a debate about whether Paul is talking about individual Christians or about church leaders who build on his foundation of gospel preaching. Some scholars, like Richard Hays, argue that the passage is specifically about the work of different preachers and leaders, not about the fate of individual souls at the final judgment.33 That interpretation has merit. But even so, the image Paul uses tells us something profound about how fire works in God's economy. The fire tests. It reveals. It purifies. It burns away what is worthless. And the person—even the one who built poorly—is saved through it.
Baker draws out the full implication: "It seems that in the final judgment, everyone will go through the fire—through the fire that surrounds God, comes from God, and is God. Because fire burns away impurities, any pure works built upon the foundation of Jesus Christ will remain, and the person will receive a reward. The impure works do not survive the fire. The person himself, however, will still be saved, yet only after going through the flames."34 If God is the consuming fire, Baker concludes, then standing in God's presence is standing in the fire. To stand in the flames means the burning away of chaff, wickedness, and sinfulness.35
Manis agrees that this passage points toward a purgatorial dimension in the divine presence model. He writes that for some believers, the Day of Judgment "will not be entirely without pain or regret. Perhaps the first exposure to the glorified Christ is a refining experience for these believers, the completion of their process of sanctification: in traditional terms, an experience of purgatory. But if so, then purgatory is merely a different way of experiencing the same reality that those already perfected experience as blessedness: it is the experience of the presence of Christ, unveiled in glory, the light of the world, the consuming fire."36
This is the divine presence model in a single sentence. The fire that tests our works on the Day of Judgment is not a separate reality from the glory of Christ. It is the glory of Christ. The Day will "disclose" the truth about each person because the presence of Christ, revealed in full glory, is a piercing light that exposes everything. For those who have built with gold, the fire reveals beauty. For those who have built with straw, the fire burns it away. But even then, Paul says, the person may be saved—through the fire itself.
Manis is careful to note that this passage does not, by itself, prove that unbelievers will also be purified by the fire. He reads the passage as teaching that the Day of Judgment may involve a purgatorial experience for believers who have not yet been fully sanctified, but he does not find support here for the claim that the fire will be purgatorial for those who have never accepted Christ at all.38 That is a fair reading, and I respect Manis's caution. What the passage does establish beyond question is the nature of the fire: it is the presence of Christ unveiled in glory, and its purpose is to test, reveal, and purify. That is exactly what the divine presence model claims about the fire of judgment.
“For behold, the day is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble. The day that is coming shall set them ablaze, says the LORD of hosts, so that it will leave them neither root nor branch. But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall. And you shall tread down the wicked, for they will be ashes under the soles of your feet, on the day when I act, says the LORD of hosts.” (Malachi 4:1–3, ESV)
Here, at the very end of the Old Testament, Malachi paints a vivid picture of the Day of Judgment. The arrogant and evildoers will be stubble—burned up so completely that "neither root nor branch" remains. They will become "ashes under the soles of your feet." But for those who fear God's name, the very same day brings not fire but healing. The sun of righteousness rises with "healing in its wings."
Do you see the pattern? The same day. The same coming of the Lord. But two completely different experiences. For the wicked, the day burns like an oven. For the righteous, the day brings healing and joy. This is the divine presence model in miniature. The same reality—the coming of God—is experienced as destruction by the wicked and as restoration by the righteous.39
The language of "stubble" and "ashes" is significant for those of us who lean toward conditional immortality. Stubble that burns up ceases to exist. Ashes are what remain after the fire has done its work. There is no image here of everlasting burning. The fire finishes. The stubble is gone. This is language of complete destruction, not of endless torment.40
But notice something else. Malachi does not say that God sends fire to the wicked while sending healing to the righteous, as if God has two completely different responses. The "sun of righteousness" and the burning oven are both images of the same event—the appearing of God. The sun that heals the righteous is the same sun that scorches the wicked. The difference is not in the sun. The difference is in the one standing under it.41
Phillips drives this point home: fire in the Old Testament prophets consistently serves a purifying purpose. But it is not a purification reserved for sinners alone. The same fire that refines sinners also refines God's people and their priests. The fire purifies believers and unbelievers, Christians and non-Christians, saints and sinners. Everyone.42 Whether we ultimately embrace conditional immortality or universal reconciliation, the nature of the fire remains the same: it is God's purifying presence, and it burns away everything that is not gold.
“But by the same word the heavens and earth that now exist are stored up for fire, being kept until the day of judgment and destruction of the ungodly. . . . But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodies will be burned up and dissolved, and the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed. . . . But according to his promise we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells.” (2 Peter 3:7, 10, 13, ESV)
Peter gives us one of the most sweeping visions of fire in the entire New Testament. The present heavens and earth are "stored up for fire." On the Day of the Lord, everything will be "burned up and dissolved." And out of the ashes, God will make new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells.
This passage is often read as a prediction of the total destruction of the universe. But the language is more subtle than that. The Greek word translated "exposed" in verse 10 is heurethēsetai, from heuriskō—"to find" or "to lay bare."43 Some manuscripts read "burned up," but the best textual evidence suggests the original word means "found out" or "laid bare." The fire of the last day does not merely destroy. It exposes. It reveals. It strips away every pretense and every corruption so that what is real can be seen. This is exactly the same thing that fire does in 1 Corinthians 3—it tests, reveals, and purifies.44
The result of this cosmic fire is not annihilation. The result is renovation. Peter says we wait for "new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells." The fire does not destroy creation forever. It purifies creation so that it can be made new. The fire is not an end in itself. It is a means to an end: the renewal of all things.45
If this is how fire works on the cosmic scale—purifying and renewing the whole creation—why would we assume it works differently on the personal scale? If the fire that falls on the heavens and earth results in a new heavens and earth, is it not at least possible that the fire that falls on sinful human beings could result in new human beings? I am not asserting universalism here. I am simply pointing out the internal logic of the imagery. The fire of God, throughout Scripture, aims at renewal, not at endless destruction for its own sake.46
Peter himself gives us the key to the passage just a few verses earlier: "The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance" (3:9). The very God who sends the fire is the God who does not wish anyone to perish. The fire is not in tension with God's love. The fire serves God's love. Its goal is not the permanent destruction of sinners but the making of all things new.47
We have walked through ten major fire passages, from Moses to Peter. And a clear, consistent picture has emerged. Let me draw the threads together.
First, fire in Scripture is consistently connected to the presence of God. It is not a separate reality. It is not a tool that God picks up when He is angry and puts down when He is pleased. Fire is who God is. "Our God is a consuming fire." The burning bush, the pillar of fire, the throne of flame, the tongues of fire at Pentecost, the river of fire from the Ancient of Days—all of these are manifestations of the same reality: the blazing, overwhelming, inescapable presence of the living God.48
Second, fire in Scripture is consistently associated with purification, not with vindictive torture. The refiner's fire in Malachi, the testing fire of 1 Corinthians 3, the cosmic renovation fire of 2 Peter 3, the winnowing fire of Matthew 3—all of these share the same fundamental purpose. They burn away impurity. They separate the gold from the dross. They consume what is corrupt and preserve what is pure. This is not the language of a torturer. This is the language of a craftsman, a healer, a father who loves His children too much to let the cancer of sin remain in them.49
Third, the same fire that purifies the willing destroys (or torments) the resistant. Isaiah 33 says that the righteous can "dwell with the consuming fire," but the wicked are terrified by it. Malachi 4 says the same day that brings healing to those who fear God's name brings burning to the arrogant. Daniel 7 shows that the same throne from which fire proceeds is the throne before which both the righteous and the wicked stand. This is the heart of the divine presence model: the fire does not change. We are what changes. The fire is always love. The fire is always holy. How we experience it depends entirely on the condition of our hearts.50
Fifth—and this is crucial—the fire passages consistently point to a goal for the fire. Malachi's refiner sits at the furnace until the gold is pure. Paul's testing fire reveals what is gold and what is straw. Peter's cosmic fire results in "new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells." The winnowing fire of Matthew 3 separates wheat from chaff so the wheat can be gathered. None of these images suggest fire that burns forever with no purpose, no goal, no end in sight. The fire in Scripture always has an objective. It is always going somewhere. It is always aimed at an outcome: purification, revelation, or destruction of what is evil. An aimless, pointless, never-ending fire that accomplishes nothing except suffering is simply absent from the biblical witness. Every fire passage we have examined has a finish line. That fact alone should give ECT defenders serious pause.
Fourth, the ECT reading of these passages is consistently weaker than the divine presence reading. ECT has to explain away the purification imagery. It has to separate the fire from God's being and turn it into a created punishment. It has to ignore the fact that the righteous "dwell with" the same fire that terrifies the wicked. It has to pretend that refining fire can go on forever without ever finishing its refining. On every point, the divine presence model fits the biblical text more naturally, more coherently, and more faithfully than the traditional view.51
As Fr. Thomas Hopko of the Orthodox Church in America summarized: "The 'fire' that will consume sinners at the coming of the Kingdom of God is the same 'fire' that will shine with splendor in the saints. It is the 'fire' of God's love; the 'fire' of God Himself who is Love. . . . For those who love God and who love all creation in Him, the 'consuming fire' of God will be radiant bliss and unspeakable delight. For those who do not love God, and who do not love at all, this same 'consuming fire' will be the cause of their 'weeping' and their 'gnashing of teeth.'"52
That is the testimony of the fire passages. The fire is real. The judgment is real. But the fire is not a torture chamber. The fire is God. The fire is love. And how we experience it on the last day will depend on what is in our hearts when we stand before the One who is a consuming fire.
Baker brings this cumulative picture to life with her remarkable story of Otto, a fictional tyrant who has committed unspeakable atrocities. In Baker's telling, Otto approaches the throne of God after death, fully expecting hatred, condemnation, and vengeance. Instead, he encounters divine love, forgiveness, and an offer of restoration. The fire of God burns around him, devouring his wickedness. He is made to see his victims, to feel their pain, to know what he has done. His heart breaks. Tears pour from him. And the fire keeps burning—not to torture him, but to burn away every last trace of evil. Baker writes: "The more he burns, the closer he gets to God, until finally he stands next to God, purified, free from sin."59
Now, Baker is honest enough to allow for a different ending. She acknowledges that Otto might refuse God's offer, even after the purifying fire. If, after the fire has burned away everything impure, nothing good remains in Otto at all, then the fire has consumed him completely. He ceases to exist. That is conditional immortality within the divine presence framework. But if something good remains—if the fire leaves even a shred of the image of God in Otto—then that purified remainder would freely choose God. Either way, the fire is not vindictive. The fire is God's love doing exactly what love does: burning away everything that is not love.60
Baker's story is fiction, of course. But it captures the theology of the fire passages better than a thousand academic arguments. The fire is real. The suffering is real. The judgment is fearsome. But the fire is God's own presence, and its aim is always purification—never torture for the sake of torture.
The early Church Fathers—the Greek-speaking theologians who were closest to the language and culture of the New Testament—understood this instinctively. Beauchemin surveys their testimony and finds that the majority of early church leaders viewed God's judgment fires as something deeply positive. Fire was "an element of life, of purification, of transformation and never of preservation alive for purposes of anguish." To them, fire was the sign of God's being, not His wrath. God is a consuming fire. Christ's eyes are a flame of fire. His throne is a fiery flame. His ministers are a flame of fire. God gave His law in fire, the Holy Spirit comes in fire, and Jesus baptizes with fire.61 As Jerome reportedly said, the fire is "God's last medicine for the sinner."62
That phrase stops me in my tracks every time I read it. God's last medicine. Not His last weapon. Not His final act of revenge. His last medicine. The fire is healing. Painful, yes. Terrifying, yes. But healing. A surgeon's knife hurts. It cuts deep. But it cuts to save. The fire of God's presence does the same. It burns to heal. It wounds to restore. And it will not stop until the healing is complete—or until there is nothing left to heal.
So what difference does all of this make? Why does it matter whether we read the fire passages through the lens of the divine presence model or the lens of eternal conscious torment?
It matters because our reading of fire shapes our picture of God. If fire is a vindictive punishment that God maintains forever, then God is a torturer. There is no way around it. A God who keeps people alive in agony for all eternity, with no possibility of repentance, no hope of restoration, no end in sight, is a God who is worse than the worst human tyrant. And deep down, many Christians know this. That is why so many people walk away from the faith—not because they reject Jesus, but because they cannot worship a God who tortures.53
But if fire is the presence of the God who is love, then everything changes. God does not torture. God does not take vengeance. God's fire is His love—the same love that warms the willing and burns the resistant. The difference is never in God. The difference is in us. And that means the call of the gospel is not "Escape the fire" but "Open your heart to the fire." Let the fire of God's love purify you now, while there is time, so that when you stand before the consuming fire on the last day, it will be warmth and light and life.54
It also matters for how we preach. If we preach a God of love whose fire is aimed at purification and restoration, we invite people toward God rather than driving them away in terror. We do not lose the urgency of the gospel. The fire is real. The judgment is real. The consequences of a hardened heart are devastating. But the motivation for turning to God shifts from raw fear of torture to the beauty of a love so fierce that it will not rest until everything impure has been burned away.55
Think about the difference this makes for a parent trying to explain God to a child. Under the ECT framework, we tell children: "God loves you so much—but if you don't love Him back, He will burn you alive forever." What kind of love is that? No child can reconcile those two halves of the sentence. But under the divine presence model, we can say: "God loves you more than you can imagine. His love is like a fire—it is so powerful that it burns away everything bad. If you let Him in, that fire will make you shine like gold. But if you run from Him and fill your heart with hatred, that same fire will hurt, because your heart won't be ready for it." That is a message a child can understand. It is a message that makes God beautiful rather than terrifying.63
It also matters for how we approach suffering in this life. If God's fire is aimed at purification, then the trials we face now are not signs of God's anger. They are signs of His refining work. James understood this: "Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance" (James 1:2–3). Peter understood it too: "These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed" (1 Pet. 1:7). The fire of testing in this life and the fire of judgment on the last day are the same fire. They come from the same source. They serve the same purpose. And they are both expressions of the love of a Father who wants His children to shine.
And finally, it matters for our own hearts. When I read the fire passages through the divine presence model, I am not frightened of God. I am in awe of Him. I am humbled by Him. I am drawn to Him. Because I know that His fire is not aimed at destroying me. It is aimed at making me pure. "Come, fire of God," Phillips prays, "and burn me clean!"56 That is the prayer of a heart that has understood the consuming love. And it is the prayer I hope this chapter leads you to make your own.
In the next chapter, we turn from the fire passages to the judgment passages—the great white throne, the opening of the books, the sheep and the goats. We will see the same pattern at work: God's judgment is not the verdict of an angry courtroom. It is the revelation of what is truly in the human heart when it stands naked before the penetrating light of divine truth and love.
↑ 1. Kalomiros, The River of Fire, section XIV: "The sun shines on healthy and diseased eyes alike, without any distinction. Healthy eyes enjoy light and because of it see clearly the beauty which surrounds them. Diseased eyes feel pain, they hurt, suffer, and want to hide from this same light which brings such great happiness to those who have healthy eyes." Available at https://glory2godforallthings.com/the-river-of-fire-kalomiros/.
↑ 2. The Hebrew verb ’akal appears over 800 times in the Old Testament and frequently describes fire consuming offerings, fields, and people. See Ludwig Koehler and Walter Baumgartner, The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament (Leiden: Brill, 2001), s.v. ’akal.
↑ 3. The Hebrew qanna’ is used exclusively of God in the Old Testament and carries the sense of zealous, passionate commitment. See Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, ed. G. Johannes Botterweck and Helmer Ringgren, trans. John T. Willis (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1974–2006), s.v. qanna’.
↑ 4. Manis, Thinking Through the Problem of Hell, “The biblical case for the divine presence model.”
↑ 5. Fudge, “The Case for Conditionalism,” in Two Views of Hell, on Isaiah 33:10–24.
↑ 6. Fudge, “The Case for Conditionalism,” in Two Views of Hell: the verse "does not envision the wicked living forever in fiery torment. Instead, it portrays a fire with which no wicked person can possibly ‘dwell.’"
↑ 7. Kalomiros, The River of Fire, section XIV: "The very fire which purifies gold, also consumes wood. Precious metals shine in it like the sun, rubbish burns with black smoke. All are in the same fire of Love."
↑ 8. Fudge, “The Case for Conditionalism,” in Two Views of Hell, on Isaiah 33:10–12.
↑ 9. The image of the refiner patiently watching the crucible is drawn from ancient Near Eastern metalworking practice. The refiner knew the silver was pure when he could see his own reflection in the molten metal. See R. Laird Harris, Gleason L. Archer Jr., and Bruce K. Waltke, Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament (Chicago: Moody, 1980), s.v. tsaraph.
↑ 10. Tsaraph (Strong's H6884) means to smelt, refine, or test by fire. It is used of God's purifying work in Psalm 66:10, Isaiah 48:10, Zechariah 13:9, and here in Malachi 3:2–3.
↑ 11. Phillips, What If Hell Is God’s, Not the Devil’s?, “Fire in the Minor Prophets—Forever vs. Until.”
↑ 12. Phillips, What If Hell Is God’s, Not the Devil’s?, “Distinct Judgments, Same Ultimate Purpose”: "The fire chastens, cleanses, and purifies the heart of the sinner until the radiant alloy of a Christlike character shines forth."
↑ 13. Baker, Razing Hell, pp. 113–114.
↑ 14. Baker, Razing Hell, pp. 114–115. Baker draws the connection between the burning bush in Exodus 3 and Daniel’s three friends in the furnace: in both cases, what is righteous and pure does not burn.
↑ 15. Manis, Sinners in the Presence of a Loving God, pp. 387–388.
↑ 16. Manis, Sinners in the Presence of a Loving God, pp. 388–389. See also Manis, Thinking Through the Problem of Hell, “The river of fire and the river of life.”
↑ 17. Kalomiros, The River of Fire, section XVII. Available at https://glory2godforallthings.com/the-river-of-fire-kalomiros/. Kalomiros is drawing on the traditional Orthodox iconography of the Last Judgment, in which the river of fire springs from the throne of Christ. As cited in Manis, Sinners in the Presence of a Loving God, pp. 252–253.
↑ 18. Manis, Thinking Through the Problem of Hell, “Apocalyptic visions.” The opening of the books in Daniel and Revelation represents "the judgment of transparency"—the experience of having one’s conscience read like an open book before the penetrating light of God.
↑ 19. Beauchemin, Hope Beyond Hell, chap. 8, “Lake of Fire—An Everlasting Torture Chamber?”
↑ 20. Manis, Thinking Through the Problem of Hell, “Apocalyptic visions”: the apocalyptic visions of Ezekiel, Daniel, and John "should not be understood as merely symbolic." They are descriptions of the glory of the Lord, confirmed by the Transfiguration and Paul’s experience on the road to Damascus.
↑ 21. The Greek pur katanaliskōn is a direct quotation of the Septuagint rendering of Deuteronomy 4:24. Katanaliskō (Strong's G2654) means to consume entirely, to use up completely. See Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament, 3rd ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), s.v. katanaliskō.
↑ 22. Parry, “A Universalist View,” in Four Views on Hell: "Note: God himself is a consuming fire. The fire that burns sinners is the holy divine presence itself."
↑ 23. Parry, “A Universalist View,” in Four Views on Hell: "Hell is not where God is absent, but where he is all-too-present. Revelation pictures those who worship the beast being ‘tormented with burning sulfur in the presence of . . . the Lamb’ (14:10)."
↑ 24. Fudge, “The Case for Conditionalism,” in Two Views of Hell.
↑ 25. Phillips, What If Hell Is God’s, Not the Devil’s?, “God’s Signature Tune.” Phillips is summarizing George MacDonald’s sermon “The Consuming Fire” from Unspoken Sermons, First Series (1867). MacDonald’s key idea is that the fire originates in God’s love, not in His wrath, and that its purpose is purification, not retribution.
↑ 26. The connection between the Holy Spirit and fire is evident across the biblical witness. The Spirit descends as fire at Pentecost (Acts 2:3), burns within the hearts of the disciples on the Emmaus road (Luke 24:32), and is linked to fire repeatedly in the prophets (e.g., Isaiah 4:4, where God cleanses Jerusalem "by a spirit of judgment and a spirit of burning"). See also Beauchemin, Hope Beyond Hell, chap. 8.
↑ 27. Baker, Razing Hell, pp. 114–115.
↑ 28. Manis, Sinners in the Presence of a Loving God, p. 389. See also Manis, Thinking Through the Problem of Hell, “Apocalyptic visions.”
↑ 29. The Greek asbestos (Strong's G762) means literally "unquenchable"—that is, fire that cannot be extinguished by human effort. It does not inherently mean "everlasting." Jeremiah 17:27 uses the same concept when God threatens to kindle an unquenchable fire in the gates of Jerusalem—a fire that burned the city completely but is not still burning today. See also Fudge, “The Case for Conditionalism,” in Two Views of Hell.
↑ 30. Beauchemin, Hope Beyond Hell, chap. 8: "Those who received our Lord’s words understood that ‘unquenchable’ did not last forever, but went on relentlessly until its objective was attained." See also Isaiah 1:31 and Amos 5:6.
↑ 31. Manis, Thinking Through the Problem of Hell, “Apocalyptic visions”: "As Jesus says in the Gospel of Luke, ‘I have come to bring fire on the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!’ The presence of God is a consuming fire."
↑ 32. Manis, Thinking Through the Problem of Hell, “Apocalyptic visions.”
↑ 33. Richard B. Hays, First Corinthians, Interpretation (Louisville: John Knox, 1997), on 1 Cor. 3:10–15. As cited by Burk in Four Views on Hell: "Paul is not talking about the fate of individual souls at the final judgment, but about God’s scrutiny of the building work of different preachers and leaders."
↑ 34. Baker, Razing Hell, pp. 114–115.
↑ 35. Baker, Razing Hell, p. 115.
↑ 36. Manis, Sinners in the Presence of a Loving God, pp. 373–374. See also Manis, Thinking Through the Problem of Hell, “The biblical case for the divine presence model.”
↑ 37. Baker makes the same point: "Though the passage in 1 Corinthians most likely refers to the judgment of Christians, the Bible talks elsewhere about a similar judgment of unbelievers. . . . Every person will eventually stand before God, with or without Jesus, to give an account of his or her life." Baker, Razing Hell, p. 115.
↑ 38. Manis, Sinners in the Presence of a Loving God, pp. 297–298. Manis favors a version of the divine presence model "in which the Day of Judgment may bring to completion the process of sanctification through a final purgatorial experience, but will not elicit repentance from any who have hitherto persisted in their rejection of God."
↑ 39. Fr. Thomas Hopko, The Orthodox Faith: An Elementary Handbook on the Orthodox Church, vol. IV: Spirituality (New York: Department of Religious Education, Orthodox Church in America, 1976), 196–97: "For those who love the Lord, His Presence will be infinite joy, paradise and eternal life. For those who hate the Lord, the same Presence will be infinite torture, hell and eternal death."
↑ 40. Fudge, “The Case for Conditionalism,” in Two Views of Hell: "Stubble" and "ashes" are images of complete destruction. The fire finishes; the wicked cease to exist. See also Fudge, The Fire That Consumes, 3rd ed. (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2011).
↑ 41. Kalomiros, The River of Fire, section XIV: "The Light of Truth, God’s Energy, God’s grace which will fall on men unhindered by corrupt conditions in the Day of Judgment, will be the same to all men. There will be no distinction whatever. All the difference lies in those who receive, not in Him Who gives."
↑ 42. Phillips, What If Hell Is God’s, Not the Devil’s?, “Fire in the Minor Prophets—Forever vs. Until.”
↑ 43. The textual variant in 2 Peter 3:10 is one of the most discussed in New Testament textual criticism. The reading heurethēsetai ("will be found" or "will be laid bare") is supported by the oldest manuscripts, including Codex Sinaiticus and Codex Vaticanus. See Bruce M. Metzger, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament, 2nd ed. (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1994), on 2 Peter 3:10.
↑ 44. The parallel with 1 Corinthians 3:13 is striking. In both passages, fire "reveals" or "discloses" the true quality of what exists. The fire is a revealing fire, a testing fire, not a merely punitive fire.
↑ 45. Beauchemin, Hope Beyond Hell, chap. 8: Fire in Scripture is "an element of life, of purification, of transformation and never of preservation alive for purposes of anguish."
↑ 46. Phillips, What If Hell Is God’s, Not the Devil’s?, “Distinct Judgments, Same Ultimate Purpose”: "The purpose of fire in the economy of God is thus to purify the heart of saint and sinner alike—by different means, and enforced by distinctive judgments and punishments to be sure, but with the same purpose as the final objective—purity."
↑ 47. 2 Peter 3:9. See also Baker, Razing Hell, pp. 144–145, and Beauchemin, Hope Beyond Hell, chap. 2.
↑ 48. Parry, “A Universalist View,” in Four Views on Hell: "In the first instance, fire is a symbol of the divine presence. In divine manifestations, God appears as a blazing torch passing through Abram’s sacrifice (Gen. 15:17), in a burning bush (Exod. 3:1–6), in flame atop Mount Sinai (Exod. 19:18; 24:17; Deut. 4:11), as a guiding and protecting pillar of fire (Exod. 14:24), and in flames settling on the heads of the disciples at Pentecost (Acts 2:3)."
↑ 49. Phillips, What If Hell Is God’s, Not the Devil’s?, “God’s Signature Tune”: "In its simplest terms, fire destroys sin as it purifies the sinner. The source of the fire, therefore, is Love."
↑ 50. Kalomiros, The River of Fire, section XIV: "The difference is in man, not in God. The difference is conditioned by the free choice of man, which God respects absolutely. God’s judgment is the revelation of the reality which is in man."
↑ 51. Manis, Sinners in the Presence of a Loving God, pp. 253–255. See also Baker, Razing Hell, chap. 9.
↑ 52. Fr. Thomas Hopko, The Orthodox Faith, vol. IV, 196–97. As cited in Manis, Sinners in the Presence of a Loving God, pp. 250–251, and Manis, Thinking Through the Problem of Hell, “Heaven and hell on the divine presence model.”
↑ 53. Baker, Razing Hell, chap. 1, discusses the pastoral crisis created by the doctrine of eternal conscious torment and its role in driving people away from the faith.
↑ 54. Kalomiros, The River of Fire, section X: "Paradise or hell does not depend on God. It depends entirely upon us." Though I do not agree with every aspect of Kalomiros’s formulation (God’s grace surely plays a role), the basic point stands: our response to God’s love determines how we experience His presence.
↑ 55. Walls, Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory, chap. 3, discusses how a proper understanding of the fire of God’s holiness can motivate genuine repentance rather than mere terror.
↑ 56. Phillips, What If Hell Is God’s, Not the Devil’s?, “Distinct Judgments, Same Ultimate Purpose”: "Come, fire of God, and burn me clean!"
↑ 57. Manis, Sinners in the Presence of a Loving God, pp. 387–388. Manis lists Genesis 19:24–25, Leviticus 10:1–3, 1 Kings 18:38–39, 2 Kings 1:9–12, 1 Chronicles 21:26, and 2 Chronicles 7:1–3 as examples of fire proceeding from God. See also Baker, Razing Hell, pp. 112–115, and Parry, “A Universalist View,” in Four Views on Hell.
↑ 58. The contrast between the disciples’ experience at Pentecost (Acts 2:1–4) and the fate of Ananias and Sapphira (Acts 5:1–11) illustrates the divine presence model’s core claim: the same divine presence that is life and power to those who receive it with open hearts becomes judgment and death to those who approach it with deceit and corruption.
↑ 59. Baker, Razing Hell, pp. 115–117. Baker’s story of Otto is one of the most vivid and memorable illustrations of the divine presence model in popular theology.
↑ 60. Baker, Razing Hell, pp. 117–118, 144–145. For Manis’s analysis of Baker’s model and its ambiguity between universalism and annihilationism, see Manis, Sinners in the Presence of a Loving God, pp. 309–311.
↑ 61. Beauchemin, Hope Beyond Hell, chap. 8, “Church Fathers and Fire.” See also Appendix IV of that work for patristic quotations on fire and judgment.
↑ 62. Jerome, as quoted in Beauchemin, Hope Beyond Hell, chap. 8. See also Appendix IV. The original source is Jerome’s commentary on Isaiah. Whether or not Jerome held to universalism in its full form, his description of fire as God’s "last medicine" captures the restorative purpose of divine judgment.
↑ 63. Baker, Razing Hell, chap. 1. Baker writes movingly about the pastoral damage that the ECT doctrine causes, particularly for children who are taught to fear God as a torturer rather than to love Him as a Father.
↑ 64. Parry, “A Universalist View,” in Four Views on Hell, notes the pillar of fire as a key example of how God's presence functions as both protection and judgment. See also Baker, Razing Hell, pp. 112–113, and Beauchemin, Hope Beyond Hell, chap. 8. The contrast between the Israelites’ and Egyptians’ experience of the same pillar is one of the most powerful Old Testament illustrations of the divine presence model.