Chapter 23B
The Fire of God: Biblical Fire Motifs and Baker’s Case for Hell as God’s Purifying Presence

Introduction

What is fire in the Bible? If someone asked you that question, you might think first of destruction. Hellfire. Judgment. Burning. And you would not be entirely wrong—fire in Scripture certainly carries themes of judgment. But here is what I find remarkable: when you trace the image of fire from Genesis to Revelation, you discover something that most people have never noticed. Fire in the Bible is, first and foremost, associated with God Himself. It is not merely a tool God uses. It is not just a punishment God inflicts. Fire is the way God shows up.

Think about it. God appeared to Moses in a burning bush. He led Israel through the wilderness as a pillar of fire. When He descended on Mount Sinai, the whole mountain was ablaze. The prophet Daniel saw God's throne engulfed in flames, with a river of fire pouring out before it. The author of Hebrews declared plainly: “Our God is a consuming fire” (Heb. 12:29, ESV). And in the book of Revelation, the risen Christ appears with eyes “like a flame of fire” (Rev. 1:14).

This observation has enormous implications for how we understand the Lake of Fire in Revelation 20. If fire in Scripture consistently represents God's own presence, then what if the Lake of Fire is not a place away from God—some dungeon where the damned are exiled—but rather the experience of standing in God's full, unshielded, fiery presence? What if the same divine fire that feels like warmth and glory to those who love God feels like unbearable torment to those who have rejected Him?

That is the thesis of this chapter. I want to accomplish two things here. First, I want to develop a comprehensive biblical theology of fire—one that goes far beyond what most readers have encountered—and demonstrate that Scripture overwhelmingly links fire with God's presence, His holiness, and His purifying activity. Second, I want to engage extensively with Sharon Baker's accessible and imaginative development of this theme in her book Razing Hell, where she argues compellingly that the fire of judgment is the fire of God's love, which purifies those who are willing and annihilates those who are not.¹ Along the way, I will show how this biblical theology of fire supports the postmortem opportunity thesis that lies at the heart of this book. If the Lake of Fire is God's purifying presence, and if that purifying presence can lead to repentance—as Baker's remarkable narrative of a character called Otto so powerfully illustrates—then the Lake of Fire is itself the final postmortem opportunity for salvation.

We will also interact with the critical assessment of Baker offered by the philosopher R. Zachary Manis in Sinners in the Presence of a Loving God, who raises important questions about the precision of Baker's model.² And we will draw on William Harrison's parallel treatment of the Greek word theion (“brimstone/sulfur”) and its connection to divine purification.³ By the end of this chapter, I believe you will see that the biblical evidence for fire as God's purifying presence is far more extensive and far more compelling than most Christians have ever realized.

I. Fire as Theophany: God Appearing as Fire

We begin with the most fundamental observation: throughout Scripture, fire is the primary medium through which God reveals Himself to human beings. Theologians call these moments “theophanies”—from the Greek theos (θεός, “God”) and phainō (φαίνω, “to appear”). A theophany is simply an appearance of God. And when God appears in the Bible, He appears again and again in fire.

The Burning Bush (Exodus 3:2–6)

The story is one of the most familiar in all of Scripture. Moses, tending sheep in the wilderness of Midian, notices a bush that is burning but not consumed. He turns aside to investigate, and God speaks to him from the fire:

“And the angel of the LORD appeared to him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush. He looked, and behold, the bush was burning, yet it was not consumed. And Moses said, ‘I will turn aside to see this great sight, why the bush is not burned.’ When the LORD saw that he turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, ‘Moses, Moses!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’ Then he said, ‘Do not come near; take your sandals off your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.’ And he said, ‘I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.’ And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.” (Exod. 3:2–6, ESV)

Notice what is happening here. God's presence is the fire. The fire is not separate from God; it is the visible manifestation of His glory. And yet the bush is not consumed. The fire does not destroy what is not meant to be destroyed. This small detail turns out to be profoundly important for our purposes. God's fire is not indiscriminate. It does not annihilate everything it touches. It consumes only what is contrary to God's holiness. The bush, which is not evil, survives the flames.

Baker makes exactly this observation in Razing Hell. She points out that the bush was not consumed because it was not evil, wicked, or unrighteous, and therefore the fire did not devour it.⁴ The fire only destroys what is impure. What is righteous passes through unscathed. We will see this principle repeated throughout the entire biblical witness.

The Pillar of Fire (Exodus 13:21–22)

When God led Israel out of Egypt, He went before them in a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. Here the fire is explicitly identified as God's guiding and protecting presence:

“And the LORD went before them by day in a pillar of cloud to lead them along the way, and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, that they might travel by day and by night. The pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night did not depart from before the people.” (Exod. 13:21–22, ESV)

For Israel, the fire was not terrifying. It was comforting. It was the visible assurance that God was with them, leading them, protecting them. The same fire that would later terrify Pharaoh's army at the Red Sea was, for God's people, a beacon of warmth and safety. The fire was the same; the experience of it depended entirely on one's relationship to God. This is precisely the principle that lies at the heart of the divine presence model of hell: the fire is God's unchanging presence, and whether it is experienced as glory or as torment depends on the disposition of the one encountering it.

Sinai Ablaze (Exodus 19:18; Deuteronomy 4–5)

The theophany at Mount Sinai is the most dramatic and extended in the Old Testament. God descends upon the mountain in fire, and the entire mountain is engulfed:

“Now Mount Sinai was wrapped in smoke because the LORD had descended on it in fire. The smoke of it went up like the smoke of a kiln, and the whole mountain trembled greatly.” (Exod. 19:18, ESV)

Moses later recalled this event in remarkable terms. In Deuteronomy, he emphasized again and again that God spoke to Israel “out of the midst of the fire”:

“Then the LORD spoke to you out of the midst of the fire. You heard the sound of words, but saw no form; there was only a voice.” (Deut. 4:12, ESV)

“For ask now of the days that are past, which were before you, since the day that God created man on the earth, and ask from one end of heaven to the other, whether such a great thing as this has ever happened or was ever heard of. Did any people ever hear the voice of a god speaking out of the midst of the fire, as you have heard, and still live?” (Deut. 4:32–33, ESV)

“The LORD spoke with you face to face at the mountain, out of the midst of the fire.” (Deut. 5:4, ESV)

These passages are staggering in their implications. Israel heard God's voice from within the fire. They stood at the base of a mountain that was ablaze with God's presence, and they heard Him speak. And they survived. Moses marveled at this fact: had any people ever heard God speak from the midst of the fire “and still live”? The implication is clear. Encountering God's fiery presence is not inherently fatal. It can be survived. But it requires a particular posture—one of reverence, obedience, and covenant faithfulness.

“The LORD Your God Is a Consuming Fire” (Deuteronomy 4:24; Hebrews 12:29)

Moses drew an explicit conclusion from the Sinai theophany that reverberates throughout the rest of Scripture: “For the LORD your God is a consuming fire, a jealous God” (Deut. 4:24, ESV). The author of Hebrews repeated this declaration almost verbatim: “For our God is a consuming fire” (Heb. 12:29, ESV).

These are not metaphors about God being like fire in some vague, poetic sense. They are identity statements. God is a consuming fire. His very nature, His essential being, is fiery. To encounter God in His fullness is to encounter fire. Baker summarizes this point with characteristic directness in her survey of fire imagery in Scripture, noting the many passages where fire flows from God, surrounds God, and is God.⁵ She lists passage after passage—God's tongue, breath, eyes, and mouth are described as flames of fire; His glory is a flame of fire; Daniel and John both envision Him seated on a throne of fire with eyes like flaming torches.⁶ The cumulative weight of this evidence is overwhelming. Fire is not simply something God uses; fire is who God is.

Isaiah’s Astonishing Question (Isaiah 33:14–15)

Few passages capture the dual nature of God's fiery presence more powerfully than Isaiah 33:14–15. The prophet asks a question that should stop every reader in their tracks:

“The sinners in Zion are afraid; trembling has seized the godless: ‘Who among us can dwell with the consuming fire? Who among us can dwell with everlasting burnings?’ He who walks righteously and speaks uprightly, who despises the gain of oppression, 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; his place of defense will be the fortresses of rocks; his bread will be given him; his water will be sure.” (Isa. 33:14–16, ESV)

Did you catch that? Who can dwell with the consuming fire? Who can live in everlasting burnings? The answer is not “no one.” The answer is: the righteous. The righteous dwell in God's consuming fire. They make their home there. The fire that terrorizes the godless is the very fire in which the righteous live and thrive.

George Hurd makes the same observation in The Triumph of Mercy, noting that in response to the question of who can dwell in the presence of a consuming God of everlasting burning, Isaiah answers that it is those who walk righteously.⁷ The consuming fire and the everlasting burnings are not literal flames but spiritual fire that consumes all dead works—all consumables like chaff and straw. We decide, Hurd argues, whether we pass through the purifying fire now by voluntarily submitting ourselves under the mighty hand of God, or later while the saints are reigning in glory.⁸

This is exactly the picture that the divine presence model paints of the final judgment. The consuming fire is God Himself. The righteous dwell in that fire with joy. The wicked are terrified by it. The difference is not in the fire; the difference is in the people standing in it.

The Throne of Fire (Daniel 7:9–10; Ezekiel 1:26–28; Revelation 1:14–16)

The prophetic visions of God's throne reinforce this identification of fire with God's being. Daniel saw the Ancient of Days seated on a throne of fiery flames:

“As I looked, thrones were placed, and the Ancient of Days took his seat; his clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne was fiery flames; its wheels were burning fire. A stream of fire issued and came out from before him; a thousand thousands served him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him.” (Dan. 7:9–10, ESV)

The prophet Ezekiel similarly described the appearance of God as something like “gleaming metal, like the appearance of fire enclosed all around” (Ezek. 1:27, ESV). And in Revelation, the risen Christ appears with eyes “like a flame of fire” and a face “like the sun shining in full strength” (Rev. 1:14, 16, ESV).

Manis draws particular attention to the Daniel passage, noting that the “stream of fire” issuing from before God's throne connects directly to the “river of fire” imagery that the Eastern Orthodox tradition has developed so powerfully.⁹ This fire is not punishment; it is theophany. It is God being God. The fire flows from His very being, and all who stand before Him stand in that fire. Whether they experience it as light and glory or as burning torment depends entirely on their spiritual condition.

II. Fire as Purification: The Refiner’s Furnace

If fire in the Bible is first and foremost associated with God's presence, its second major association is with purification. Over and over again, the biblical writers use fire imagery to describe God's work of cleansing, refining, and removing impurity from His people. This is not fire that aims to destroy the person; it is fire that aims to destroy the sin within the person while preserving the person themselves.

The Refiner’s Fire (Malachi 3:2–3)

The prophet Malachi provides one of the most vivid and important fire-as-purification passages in all of Scripture:

“But who can endure the day of his coming, and who can stand when he appears? For he is like a refiner's fire and like fullers' soap. He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the sons of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, and they will bring offerings in righteousness to the LORD.” (Mal. 3:2–3, ESV)

The image is drawn from the ancient metalworking trade. A refiner heats raw ore in a crucible until it becomes molten. Impurities rise to the surface as dross and are skimmed away. The refiner repeats this process again and again until the metal is pure. The key detail—one that preachers have rightly loved for centuries—is that the refiner of silver knows the silver is pure when he can see his own reflection in it.

Notice two things about this passage. First, the fire is not retributive. It is not punishment for the sake of punishment. It is purposeful, corrective, and restorative. The goal is not to destroy the sons of Levi but to purify them so that they can offer acceptable worship. Second, the fire here is unmistakably connected to God's coming—His eschatological appearance. “Who can endure the day of his coming?” Malachi is describing the final judgment in terms of purification, not annihilation. As we explored in Chapter 22, the purpose of divine punishment in the biblical witness is overwhelmingly corrective rather than merely retributive.¹⁰

Smelting Away the Dross (Isaiah 1:24–26)

Isaiah uses similar metallurgical imagery when he describes God's intentions toward rebellious Jerusalem:

“Therefore the Lord declares, the LORD of hosts, the Mighty One of Israel: ‘Ah, I will get relief from my enemies and avenge myself on my foes. I will turn my hand against you and will smelt away your dross as with lye and remove all your alloy. And I will restore your judges as at the first, and your counselors as at the beginning. Afterward you shall be called the city of righteousness, the faithful city.’” (Isa. 1:24–26, ESV)

The language sounds fierce—“get relief from my enemies,” “avenge myself on my foes.” But look at the purpose and the result. God is not destroying Jerusalem. He is smelting away the dross, removing the impurity, so that Jerusalem can become what it was always meant to be: a city of righteousness. The fire is the means by which God restores what sin has corrupted.

Refined Like Silver and Gold (Zechariah 13:9)

The prophet Zechariah paints a similar picture:

“And I will put this third into the fire, and refine them as one refines silver, and test them as gold is tested. They will call upon my name, and I will answer them. I will say, ‘They are my people’; and they will say, ‘The LORD is my God.’” (Zech. 13:9, ESV)

Again, the fire produces restoration, not destruction. Those who pass through the fire emerge in covenant relationship with God. “They are my people”—“The LORD is my God.” The fire creates the conditions for reconciliation. Baker herself cites this passage in Razing Hell, noting that God's prophetic promise is to put the wicked through fire and refine them as one refines silver and tests gold.¹¹

Isaiah’s Coal of Purification (Isaiah 6:6–7)

When the prophet Isaiah encountered God in the temple and cried out in despair over his uncleanness, a seraph took a live coal from the altar and touched it to Isaiah's lips, declaring: “Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for” (Isa. 6:7, ESV). Baker draws attention to the fact that the seraphim—the fiery creatures surrounding God's throne—take their very name from the Hebrew word for “fire” (saraph, שָׂרָף).¹² Even the beings who continually surround God are fiery by nature. And the fire they carry does not destroy Isaiah; it purifies him. His sin is removed by fire, not his life.

Tested by Fire (1 Corinthians 3:12–15)

This Old Testament pattern of purifying fire reaches a critical development in the New Testament. Paul uses fire imagery in 1 Corinthians 3 in a way that is directly relevant to our argument:

“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 Cor. 3:12–15, ESV)

Baker builds extensively on this passage. She argues that Paul is teaching that in the final judgment, every person's works will be tested by fire. The fire consumes what is impure—the wood, hay, and straw—while leaving intact what is righteous—the gold, silver, and precious stones. The person themselves, even if their works are entirely burned up, can still be saved, “but only as through fire.”¹³ Baker connects this directly to Isaiah 43:2—“When you walk through the fire you shall not be burned”—arguing that the righteous experience the fire without harm because the fire only destroys evil, wickedness, and unrighteousness.¹⁴

The implications are far-reaching. If Paul envisions a scenario in which a person whose works are entirely worthless can still be saved through fire, then fire in the New Testament functions not merely as retributive punishment but as a purifying agent that can lead to salvation. This is exactly what the postmortem opportunity thesis proposes happens in the Lake of Fire.

Faith Tested by Fire (1 Peter 1:6–7)

The apostle Peter echoes this same theme:

“In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.” (1 Pet. 1:6–7, ESV)

Peter compares faith to gold that is tested and refined by fire. The fire does not destroy faith; it proves and perfects it. Baker cites this passage alongside the prophetic texts to reinforce the consistent biblical pattern: fire purifies what is valuable and destroys only what is worthless.¹⁵

Numbers 31:23 — Passing Through Fire to Become Clean

A passage that often goes unnoticed in discussions of biblical fire imagery is Numbers 31:23, which prescribes a ritual of purification: “everything that can stand the fire, you shall pass through the fire, and it shall be clean” (ESV). Baker highlights this verse as further evidence that fire in the biblical tradition is fundamentally a purifying agent—that which can withstand the fire is made clean by passing through it.¹⁶

III. Fire as Judgment from God’s Presence

If fire in the Bible is associated with God's presence and with purification, it is also undeniably associated with judgment. But here is the critical detail that most readers miss: when fire appears as judgment in Scripture, it almost always comes from God—from His presence, from His being, from heaven itself. The fire of judgment is not something separate from God. It is the outpouring of His fiery nature upon that which is evil.

Fire from the LORD (Genesis 19:24; Leviticus 10:1–2; Numbers 11:1; 16:35)

The destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah is the archetypal judgment-by-fire narrative in Scripture: “Then the LORD rained on Sodom and Gomorrah sulfur and fire from the LORD out of heaven” (Gen. 19:24, ESV). The fire comes from the LORD. It originates in God Himself.

The same pattern appears in the death of Nadab and Abihu, Aaron's sons, who offered unauthorized fire before the LORD: “And fire came out from before the LORD and consumed them, and they died before the LORD” (Lev. 10:2, ESV). Notice the phrase “from before the LORD.” The fire that consumed them came from God's own presence. It was not an external punishment imposed from a distance; it was the result of standing in God's holy presence while doing what was unholy.

When Israel grumbled in the wilderness, “the fire of the LORD burned among them” (Num. 11:1, ESV). When Korah and his followers rebelled, “fire came out from the LORD and consumed the 250 men offering the incense” (Num. 16:35, ESV). When Elijah called down fire from heaven on the soldiers of King Ahaziah, “fire came down from heaven and consumed him and his fifty” (2 Kings 1:10, ESV). In every case, the fire of judgment originates in God. It is not a neutral force; it is a divine force, an expression of who God is.

Torment in God’s Presence (Revelation 14:10)

Perhaps the single most important verse for the divine presence model of hell is Revelation 14:10, which describes the fate of those who worship the beast:

“He also will drink the wine of God's wrath, poured full strength into the cup of his anger, and he will be tormented with fire and sulfur in the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb.” (Rev. 14:10, ESV)

Read that verse again carefully. Where does the torment occur? In the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb. Not away from God. Not in some distant dungeon. Not in a place of divine absence. The torment happens in God's presence. This is devastating to the common assumption that hell is a place of separation from God. As Manis argues extensively in Sinners in the Presence of a Loving God, this passage directly challenges the idea that hell is defined by God's absence and instead supports the claim that hell is the experience of God's unshielded presence by those who have rejected Him.¹⁷

Fire from God (Revelation 20:9)

In John's vision of the final conflict, when the nations deceived by Satan surround the camp of the saints, judgment comes swiftly: “fire came down from God out of heaven and consumed them” (Rev. 20:9, KJV). Once again, the fire of judgment originates in God. It comes down from God. The consistent biblical witness is that fire—whether as theophany, purification, or judgment—is always connected to God's own person and presence.

The Fiery Furnace (Daniel 3): A Typological Key

The story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace is one of the most beloved stories in all of Scripture. King Nebuchadnezzar orders the three Hebrews thrown into a furnace heated seven times hotter than normal. But when the king looks into the furnace, he is astonished:

“He answered and said, ‘But I see four men unbound, walking in the midst of the fire, and they are not hurt; and the appearance of the fourth is like a son of the gods.’” (Dan. 3:25, ESV)

Three things happen in this story that are profoundly relevant to our thesis. First, the fire destroys the ropes that bound the three men but does not harm the men themselves. The fire destroys what enslaves them while leaving them free. Second, a fourth figure appears in the fire with them—one who looks like “a son of the gods.” God Himself is in the fire with His people. Third, the men who threw them into the furnace—the executioners—were themselves consumed by the fire (Dan. 3:22).

Baker points to this story as well, noting that the sulfur fire in the furnace was so hot it completely incinerated the men who threw the three Hebrews in, while the three themselves were unscathed because they were righteous before God.¹⁸ This is a powerful typological image. The fire of God's presence destroys what is evil—both the ropes of bondage and the agents of wickedness—but does not destroy the righteous. And in the very midst of the flames, God is present. He walks with His people through the fire.

I find this story to be one of the most illuminating prefigurations of the Lake of Fire in all of Scripture. The furnace is an experience of God's fiery presence. Those who belong to God enter the fire and find it liberating—their bonds are burned away, and God Himself walks beside them. Those who oppose God are consumed. The fire is the same; the outcome depends entirely on the person's relationship to God.

IV. Baker’s Central Argument: Fire Comes from God, Surrounds God, and Is God

Having established the comprehensive biblical foundation, we turn now to Sharon Baker's accessible and compelling development of this material in Razing Hell. Baker's contribution is not primarily original scholarship in the technical sense; she is not a biblical languages specialist or a philosopher like Manis. But her genius lies in synthesis and communication. She takes the scattered threads of biblical fire imagery and weaves them into a clear, powerful, and pastorally compelling argument that anyone can follow.

Baker's central thesis can be stated simply: fire in Scripture “comes from God, surrounds God, and is God.”¹⁹ Therefore, to enter God's full presence is to enter a fiery furnace. The question, she argues, is not whether one will encounter the fire, but how one will experience it. Baker compiles the same biblical evidence we have surveyed above—the burning bush, the pillar of fire, the Sinai theophany, the consuming fire declarations, the prophetic visions of God's throne—and draws the connection that many readers have missed: if God is fire, and if every person will eventually stand before God (2 Cor. 5:10), then every person will stand in the fire.²⁰

Baker moves from this foundational observation to a crucial distinction. The fire of God, she argues, has a very specific purpose: it burns up whatever is evil, wicked, or sinful. It devours impurity, consumes it, so that it no longer exists. But the fire does not burn up whatever is righteous and pure.²¹ Baker grounds this distinction in passages like Isaiah 43:2—“When you walk through the fire you shall not be burned”—and in the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, who walked through fire that was hot enough to kill the soldiers who threw them in, yet emerged without even the smell of smoke on their clothing (Dan. 3:27). Why were they unharmed? Because they were righteous before God, and the fire only burns evil.

This principle—that God's fire destroys impurity while preserving what is good—is the key that unlocks Baker's entire model. If God's fire targets evil specifically, then standing in God's presence functions as a sorting mechanism. The fire burns away everything that is corrupt, sinful, and wicked. What remains is what is pure, righteous, and good. For someone whose life is characterized by righteousness, the fire passes over them with little effect—they experience God's presence as joy and warmth. For someone whose life is deeply enmeshed in evil, the fire has much to burn, and the experience is agonizing. But the agony is not pointless; it is the pain of purification.

Manis, in his evaluation of Baker, accurately characterizes her model as a purgatorial version of the divine presence model, since on Baker's reading, fire both expresses God's judgment and purifies those subjected to it by burning away whatever is evil, wicked, or sinful while cleansing and purifying what remains.²² Baker envisions standing in God's presence as akin to standing in the flames. To stand in the flames means burning away chaff, wickedness, and sinfulness.²³

Baker does not shy away from the judgment dimension of this model. She insists that her alternative view of hell speaks of God's love as the most grueling judgment—judgment that brings repentance and reconciliation.²⁴ This is not a soft, sentimental universalism that waves away sin. The encounter with God's love is, for the sinful person, the most devastating and painful experience imaginable. It is judgment precisely because it is love. God's love exposes sin for what it is. It strips away every excuse, every rationalization, every layer of self-deception. And it does so not with hatred but with a sorrow forged from love.

V. The Story of Otto: Baker’s Imaginative Illustration of the Divine Presence Model

The most memorable and pastorally powerful section of Razing Hell is Baker's extended narrative about a fictional character named Otto. Baker uses this story to illustrate, in concrete and deeply human terms, what the divine presence model might actually look like when applied to the final judgment. The narrative is worth engaging with at length because it does something that abstract theological argumentation often cannot: it makes the reader feel the truth of the model.

Otto is presented as an exceptionally wicked person—someone who, were he real, would rank among history's worst sinners.²⁵ Baker designs the character this way deliberately. If the divine presence model can account for Otto's judgment, it can account for anyone's. The story is a stress test of the theology.

In Baker's telling, Otto approaches the throne of God. He is filled with dread. He expects hatred. He expects punishment. He expects the wrathful, vengeful deity that centuries of Western theology have led him to anticipate. What he encounters instead is something far more devastating than any punishment he could have imagined: unconditional love.

Baker describes the scene with emotional power. Otto does not hear God say, “You evil, vile murderer! I am going to get you now.” Instead, he hears God say with a sorrow forged from love, “I have loved you with an everlasting love. But look at your life; what have you done?”²⁶ God's love and mercy, acting as judgment, are so incomprehensibly abundant that they completely overwhelm Otto. He is not let off the hook. Instead, his confrontation with God's love forces him to face the gravity of his own sin. He sees his sin as God sees it and feels the pain of his testing and purification by fire.²⁷

What follows is something like a life review—a concept that will be familiar to readers who know the near-death experience literature (see Chapter 5). As his life flashes before his eyes, Otto sees all his victims: mothers crying for lost sons, children begging for their murdered fathers, an eighteen-year-old boy dying alone on the battlefield, crying for his mother. He hears their screams. He sees their battered bodies. He listens as they cry out for mercy. And he knows he gave none.²⁸

Yet here he stands in the fire of God, receiving what he never gave. God makes him go to each victim and lay his hand upon their hearts. As he does, he feels all their pain, all their disappointments, all their fear, and knows he has caused it all. The last person he must touch is Jesus. When he places his hand on Jesus' heart, he feels not only the pain and sorrow he has caused but also the unconditional love that Jesus has for him—for Otto. All the while, the fire of God burns, devouring Otto's wickedness and evil deeds.²⁹

Baker is careful to emphasize that this is not a gentle experience. This is hell for Otto. With gnashing teeth and uncontrollable weeping, his heart breaks, and he cries out in utter remorse, in unmitigated repentance, knowing he can never undo the damage he has caused. Seeing his repentance and the unendurable pain he feels as the fire burns away the chaff of his evil deeds, the victims are vindicated. The thing victims most often wish for—that their offender feel genuine remorse and understand the terrible pain he has caused—is fulfilled.³⁰

Baker draws on George MacDonald to explain the dynamics of this fiery experience, noting MacDonald's insight that God's fire burns worse at a distance—the farther a person stands from God, the more agonizing the flames.³¹ Otto does not get away with murder. He suffers terribly in the consuming fire of God's presence. But the fire's purpose is purification, not mere retribution.

In Baker's telling, the entire process, though it may seem extended to Otto, might happen in an instant from God's perspective—or it might seem much longer to those standing in the flames of God's presence.³² This resonates powerfully with the author's own position (as argued throughout this book) that time functions differently in the spiritual realm. What appears instantaneous from an earthly perspective could be experienced as months, years, or longer from the perspective of the person encountering God.

At the end of his ordeal, Otto receives an offer from God to be reconciled both to his victims and to God—an offer that, in Baker's primary telling, Otto accepts. He enters the kingdom of God, as Manis summarizes, tested by fire and forgiven by grace.³³

Baker's student Brooke, a character who appears throughout Razing Hell as a dialogue partner, raises the obvious question: “So are you a universalist?” Baker answers no. She believes that God respects the freedom given to human beings to choose for themselves whether or not they want a relationship with God. We either choose God during our lifetime on earth, Baker explains, or we can choose God at the time of judgment, after going through the fire that burns away impurities.³⁴

I want to pause and underline something here. Baker explicitly affirms a postmortem opportunity for salvation at the time of judgment. She does not use that exact phrase, but the content is unmistakable. The possibility of choosing God at the time of judgment, after going through the fire, is precisely what this book has been arguing for across its entire length. Baker's model, developed at a popular level, independently confirms the theological framework that we have built on exegetical, philosophical, historical, and pastoral grounds.

VI. Brimstone as Divine Fire: The Theion Argument

One of the most intriguing lines of evidence in Baker's case involves the Greek word translated “brimstone” or “sulfur” in the New Testament. The Lake of Fire in Revelation is consistently described as a “lake of fire and brimstone” (limnē tou pyros kai theiou, λίμνη τοῦ πυρὸς καὶ θείου; Rev. 19:20; 20:10; 21:8). The Greek noun for brimstone is theion (θεῖον). Baker observes that this word is spelled identically to the Greek adjective theion (θεῖον), which means “divine.”³⁵

Now, let me be clear about what this argument can and cannot prove. Baker is not claiming that the author of Revelation intended a word play between “sulfur” and “divine.” The noun theion (sulfur) and the adjective theion (divine) have different etymological roots despite their identical spelling in certain forms. The argument is suggestive, not conclusive. But it is suggestive in a way that is genuinely illuminating, because the connection between sulfur and divinity is not merely coincidental in the ancient world—it reflects a broader cultural and religious association between brimstone and the sacred.

Baker notes that the ancient Greeks used sulfur for purification and temple dedication. They used it in their incense as a purifying scent. They also believed that the purity of the fire came from God, just as brimstone was seen as a fire from heaven.³⁶ Readers in the ancient world encountering the phrase “lake of fire and brimstone” would not necessarily have thought of a torture chamber. They might well have thought of a “lake of divine purification”—a place where a person is cleansed and purified so they can be dedicated and restored to God.³⁷

William Harrison, in Is Salvation Possible After Death?, develops a remarkably similar argument independently. Harrison cites Thayer's Greek Lexicon, which notes that theion (brimstone) is “equivalent to divine incense, because burning brimstone was regarded as having power to purify, and to ward off contagion.”³⁸ Harrison further points to Homer's Iliad, where Achilles directs that a cup be cleansed with sulfur, and to the Odyssey, where Odysseus orders sulfur and fire brought to him to purify his home after slaying the suitors. Another Greek lexicon Harrison cites gives brimstone the meaning of “to fumigate and purify.”³⁹

Harrison draws the same conclusion as Baker: when the Bible refers to people being cast into fire and brimstone, the word for brimstone carries associations with purification, not mere torment. Harrison is careful, as Baker is, not to overstate the case. He acknowledges that the ancient Greek usage does not prove that the New Testament authors intended a purificatory meaning. But he notes that brimstone's connection to purification certainly does not support eternal conscious torment, and it points away from that interpretation rather than toward it.⁴⁰

George Hurd adds another layer to this argument in The Triumph of Mercy. He points out that from antiquity, sulfur was added to impure gold in the molten state during the refining process. The impurities and baser metals unite with the sulfur, forming sulfides that float to the surface as dross and are removed. To a refiner of gold and precious metals in biblical times, the connection between fire and sulfur would have been unmistakable.⁴¹ Hurd also draws attention to the Greek word limnē (λίμνη), translated “lake” in “lake of fire,” noting that it can also mean “pool” or “pond,” and in certain contexts can refer to the receptacle containing the pool.⁴² In the context of the refiner's fire and sulfur, the “pool” would be the pool of precious molten metal, and the “receptacle” would be the refiner's crucible or melting pot. The “lake of fire and sulfur,” read through this lens, becomes the divine refining crucible.

I want to be honest with the reader. The theion argument by itself does not prove that the Lake of Fire is God's purifying presence. Linguistic coincidences are not theological proofs. But the argument is genuinely suggestive, and it is consistent with—and reinforces—the much broader biblical pattern we have already established. When you combine the theion evidence with the comprehensive biblical theology of fire as God's presence and purification, the cumulative weight becomes substantial. The Lake of Fire is described using language that, in its cultural context, carried connotations of divine purification. That is worth taking seriously.

VII. Baker’s Hybrid Annihilationism: Two Possible Outcomes

Baker's model does not end with purification and restoration. She honestly confronts the question of free will: what if someone, even after encountering God's overwhelming love and going through the purifying fire, still refuses to accept God's offer of reconciliation? Brooke, her student-dialogue partner, pushes her on this point directly: “What happens if Otto stands in God's fiery presence, receives forgiveness, and then decides he doesn't want it? He turns God down flat. Does God say, ‘Too bad, Otto, you don't have a choice; you are going to reconcile with me whether you like it or not’?”⁴³

Baker's answer is nuanced. She insists that God truly respects human freedom. Forced reconciliation, she argues, does not bode well for the success of a relationship. The nature of reconciliation requires the mutual desire for relationship, and forcing or coercing a person to reconcile defeats the purpose.⁴⁴ So Baker allows for two possible outcomes in the Lake of Fire.

In the first scenario—the one illustrated by the Otto narrative—the person repents under the purifying fire of God's presence, accepts God's offer of restoration, and enters the kingdom. The fire has done its work. The person is saved, as Paul says, “yet so as through fire” (1 Cor. 3:15).

In the second scenario, the person remains unrepentant. Baker envisions this possibility in two slightly different ways, which leads to some ambiguity that Manis rightly identifies (as we will see shortly). In one version, after the fire has burned away all the wickedness, there might not be much of Otto left. If nothing good remains in him at all, the fire would consume everything, and Otto would be annihilated—completely destroyed with nothing remaining.⁴⁵ In another version, something of Otto remains after the purification, but that remaining part still rejects God, and he is then thrown into the lake of fire and annihilated.⁴⁶

Baker's key statement on this point is worth noting carefully. She writes that the fire does not eliminate the gift of human freedom. Those who say no to God's yes, however, face annihilation.⁴⁷ But she also develops a more optimistic strand. If the fire has destroyed all that was impure in a person, and something good and righteous remains, then that remaining part, being good, would naturally choose God. Because the fire destroyed death in Otto, only life—God's life—would remain. A purified, righteous person would naturally choose life with God.⁴⁸

Manis accurately classifies Baker's view as a hybrid of the divine presence model and annihilationism.⁴⁹ He describes it as imaginative and provocative but lacking in precision. The critical question Manis raises is: what kind of hybrid annihilationist model is Baker developing? He identifies at least two different possibilities that Baker seems to conflate.⁵⁰

The first possibility is what Manis calls natural consequence annihilationism. Perhaps the fire of God burns up Otto so that nothing remains of him at all. In this version, annihilation is simply what happens naturally when a being made entirely of evil stands in the presence of a God who is pure holiness. The fire consumes all evil, and since there is nothing else left, the person ceases to exist. This is not a punishment imposed by God; it is the natural consequence of being constituted entirely by one's rejection of God.

The second possibility is what Manis calls free will annihilationism. Perhaps the fire of God burns up everything in Otto except his free will. Otto then uses that remaining freedom one last time to reject God rather than to be reconciled to Him. At this point, God consigns Otto to annihilation. But here, Manis notes, there is a further lack of clarity about whether this second option represents a retributive or a non-retributive version of annihilationism. How exactly is Otto “thrown into” the annihilating lake of fire? Does he choose this fate, or is it a divinely imposed punishment?⁵¹

Manis also notes that Baker's language about Otto being “thrown” into the lake of fire suggests that consignment is not freely chosen—which would imply a return to retributivism. But other comments in her book suggest that she does not intend any retributive form of annihilationism. Baker writes at one point that although the possibility exists that some may still reject God after walking through the divine fire, God never forsakes or abandons those He loves—ever.⁵² This ambiguity, as Manis observes, is never fully resolved in Baker's text.⁵³

Resolving Baker’s Ambiguity: The Author’s Own View

I believe the ambiguity in Baker's model can be resolved, and I want to offer my own formulation here. In my view, annihilation is the natural consequence of having nothing left after God's purifying fire removes all evil from a person whose entire being has become bound up with their rejection of God. It is not retributive. It is not something God does to the person in vengeance. It is simply what happens.

Think of it this way. A person who has spent an entire lifetime—and an entire postmortem existence in Hades, and even the extended encounter with God at the final judgment—hardening themselves against God has, in a sense, constituted themselves by that rejection. Their identity has become so thoroughly intertwined with their refusal of God's love that there is nothing separable from it. When God's purifying fire removes the evil, there is nothing left. Not because God wanted to destroy them—God desperately wanted them to repent. Not because God overrode their freedom—God honored their freedom at every step. But because the person had freely and irrevocably chosen to make themselves nothing but their rejection of God, and when the rejection was burned away, there was nothing else.

This formulation avoids both the retributive problem (God is not imposing annihilation as a punishment) and the freedom problem (the person's free will is preserved throughout). It also integrates cleanly with the conditional immortality framework. Immortality is God's gift to those who receive it through faith in Christ. Those who reject Christ, even after the fullest possible revelation of His love, do not receive the gift of immortality, and they simply cease to exist—not as an act of divine violence but as the natural consequence of refusing the only source of life.

VIII. Baker on 1 Corinthians 3:12–15: Universal Fire, Differentiated Outcomes

Baker's reading of 1 Corinthians 3:12–15 deserves special attention because it provides the bridge between the biblical theology of purifying fire and the eschatological reality of the Lake of Fire. Baker argues that Paul is teaching something truly remarkable: in the final judgment, everyone will go through the fire.⁵⁴ The fire is universal. Every person's works will be tested. No one is exempt.

But the fire does not treat everyone the same. Baker emphasizes Paul's distinction between materials that survive fire (gold, silver, precious stones) and materials that are consumed by it (wood, hay, straw). The righteous—those whose lives are built on the foundation of Christ with works of genuine value—pass through the fire with their works intact. They experience the fire as something that reveals and validates their faithfulness. The unrighteous, on the other hand, see their works consumed. The wood, hay, and straw of selfish living, empty religion, and unrepentant sin are burned away completely.

And yet—and this is the stunning part—Paul says that even the person whose works are entirely burned up can still be saved. “He himself will be saved, but only as through fire” (1 Cor. 3:15). The person survives the conflagration. The fire destroys the worthless works but not the person. Salvation is possible through fire, not merely despite fire. The fire is the very means by which the person is brought to the point of salvation.

Baker connects this powerfully to Isaiah's promise: “When you walk through the fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you” (Isa. 43:2, ESV). The righteous experience the fire as something that vindicates rather than destroys them. Manis notes Baker's interpretation that the righteous person's encounter with God's presence produces an intense joy of divine love, while the wicked person's encounter produces devastating confrontation with one's own evil.⁵⁵ The fire is the same; the experience is entirely different because the condition of the person is different.

Baker contrasts her model explicitly with the traditional view. The difference between her view and the traditional view of hell, she argues, is the end result. Rather than God wreaking vengeance and retribution through eternal punishment, God bestows reconciliation and restoration through loving forgiveness, so that eternity is life in God, the only eternal one.⁵⁶

IX. The Lake of Fire as the Final Postmortem Opportunity

We have now assembled all the pieces of the puzzle. Let me draw together the threads and show how the biblical theology of fire, combined with Baker's development of the divine presence model, supports the postmortem opportunity thesis at the very center of this book.

Here is the argument in its simplest form:

Premise 1: Fire in Scripture is consistently associated with God's own presence, holiness, and purifying activity. God is a consuming fire (Deut. 4:24; Heb. 12:29). His throne is fire (Dan. 7:9–10). His appearance is fire (Ezek. 1:27; Rev. 1:14). His judgments come as fire from His presence (Lev. 10:2; Rev. 14:10; 20:9).

Premise 2: The fire of God purifies. It refines like a refiner's fire (Mal. 3:2–3). It smelts away dross (Isa. 1:24–26). It tests each person's works, and those whose works are burned up can still be saved “through fire” (1 Cor. 3:15). The fire destroys what is evil while preserving what is good (Dan. 3; Isa. 43:2).

Premise 3: The Lake of Fire (Rev. 19:20; 20:10, 14–15; 21:8) is described using fire-and-sulfur imagery that, as we have seen, is associated throughout Scripture with God's presence, God's purifying activity, and even (through the theion connection) divine purification. Furthermore, the fire-and-sulfur torment explicitly occurs “in the presence of the Lamb” (Rev. 14:10).

Conclusion: The Lake of Fire is best understood not as a place separate from God where the damned are exiled, but as the experience of encountering God's full, unshielded, fiery presence at the final judgment. For those who respond to that encounter with repentance and faith, the fire purifies and saves (“yet so as through fire”). For those who irrevocably reject God even in the full blaze of His love, the fire consumes all that is evil in them, and since they have constituted themselves entirely by their rejection of God, nothing remains—they are annihilated.

This framework resolves several problems simultaneously. It explains why the Lake of Fire is described as occurring “in the presence of the Lamb” (Rev. 14:10)—because it is God's presence. It explains the destruction of Death and Hades in the Lake of Fire (Rev. 20:14)—because the divine fire annihilates death itself, as Manis argues.⁵⁷ The “second death” is not the beginning of an eternity of torment but the death of death—the end of the separation between God and creation. It explains the connection between fire and sulfur (brimstone) by reading the Lake of Fire as a place of divine purification. And it honors the consistent biblical witness that fire in Scripture is simultaneously an expression of God's presence, His holiness, His purifying activity, and His judgment.

Most importantly for our purposes, this framework provides the theological underpinning for the postmortem opportunity. If the Lake of Fire is where God's presence is fully and finally revealed to every person who has ever lived, then the Lake of Fire is the ultimate encounter with God—the encounter in which every person, however wicked, is confronted with the full force of God's love and given the opportunity to repent. Baker's Otto illustrates this beautifully. The most wicked person imaginable, standing in God's fiery presence, is overwhelmed not by hatred but by love, not by vengeance but by sorrow, not by punishment but by the devastating exposure of his own sin in the light of God's holiness. And in that encounter, repentance becomes possible—real, genuine, deep repentance that transforms the person from the inside out.

I want to emphasize that this is not universalism. Baker herself insists she is not a universalist, and neither am I.⁵⁸ The possibility remains—indeed, I believe it is a genuine and terrible possibility—that some persons will persist in rejecting God even after the fullest possible revelation of His love. Their freedom is real. God will not override it. And the consequence of that irrevocable rejection is annihilation—not as an act of divine cruelty but as the natural outcome of refusing the only source of eternal life.

But the opportunity is there. The door is open. God's love pursues every person all the way to the final possible moment. As Baker writes, God never forsakes or abandons those He loves—ever.⁵⁹ The Lake of Fire is not God giving up on the lost. It is God making one final, all-out, overwhelming effort to save them—an effort that succeeds for every person who is willing to receive it.

X. Fire and Water: Complementary Images of the Same Divine Reality

Before we turn to counterarguments, I want to note a fascinating dimension of the biblical fire imagery that Manis develops in his appendix on the biblical basis for the divine presence model. Manis observes that fire and water function as both contrasting and complementary metaphors for the same divine reality throughout Scripture.⁶⁰

God is described as a “consuming fire” (Deut. 4:24; Heb. 12:29), and yet Jesus describes God's presence among humankind as “living water,” telling the Samaritan woman: “Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (John 4:14, ESV). The Holy Spirit is depicted both as fire—in the tongues of flame at Pentecost (Acts 2:3) and in John the Baptist's declaration that Jesus would baptize “with the Holy Spirit and fire” (Matt. 3:11)—and as “rivers of living water” flowing from within believers (John 7:37–39).

This juxtaposition is not contradictory; it reveals the same fundamental truth from different angles. God's presence is experienced as either life-giving water or as consuming fire, depending on the spiritual condition of the one encountering it. As Manis notes, John the Baptist's words to the Pharisees and Sadducees suggest that everyone will be “baptized” by Christ—immersed in His presence—but for some it will be an experience of burning with unquenchable fire, while for others it will be an experience of living water flowing from within them.⁶¹ Those who freely receive God's Spirit within themselves experience life through Him; those who harden their hearts and blaspheme the Holy Spirit will experience the baptism into Christ's presence on the Day of Judgment as a consuming fire.⁶²

The apocalyptic visions reinforce this dual imagery. Daniel sees a “stream of fire” flowing from God's throne (Dan. 7:10). Revelation describes a “river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb” (Rev. 22:1, ESV). The throne is the same. The river flowing from it is the same divine energy. But it is described as fire in one context and as water of life in another. Manis draws the striking conclusion: both the river of fire and the river of the water of life originate from the same divine throne. They are the same divine reality, experienced differently.⁶³

XI. Addressing Counterarguments

Any responsible treatment of this subject must engage honestly with the strongest objections. Several counterarguments deserve attention.

Objection 1: “The Lake of Fire Is a Place of Retributive Punishment, Not Purification”

The most common objection is that the Lake of Fire in Revelation is clearly presented as a place of final, retributive punishment—not as a place of purification or postmortem opportunity. Revelation 20:10 states that the devil, the beast, and the false prophet “will be tormented day and night forever and ever” (ESV). Does this not settle the matter?

I have three responses. First, the specific language of being “tormented day and night forever and ever” applies to the devil, the beast, and the false prophet—symbolic and spiritual entities, not ordinary human beings. We should be cautious about reading the fate of these apocalyptic figures as straightforwardly applicable to every unsaved person. Second, the phrase rendered “forever and ever” translates the Greek eis tous aiōnas tōn aiōnōn (εἰς τοὺς αἰῶνας τῶν αἰώνων), which, as we explored in detail in Chapter 20, is better understood as “unto the ages of the ages”—a very long but not necessarily infinite duration.⁶⁴ Third, the fact that fire also has a purificatory function does not mean it cannot also function as judgment. Baker's model does not deny the reality of judgment; it reinterprets what judgment is. Judgment is not arbitrary retribution. It is the devastating exposure of sin in the light of God's holy love. It is genuinely painful—Baker's Otto goes through absolute agony. But the pain has a purpose: to bring the person to the point of repentance.

Objection 2: “If the Fire Purifies Everyone, Then This Is Just Universalism”

This objection conflates the offer of purification with the guarantee of acceptance. The divine presence model, as I have formulated it, maintains that God's purifying fire is offered to all—but that free will means the offer can be refused. Baker herself makes this distinction clearly, and Manis confirms that Baker explicitly claims not to be a universalist.⁶⁵ The fire purifies what is evil in the person. The person then has a genuine choice: to accept God's offer of restoration or to persist in rejection. The model does not guarantee that all will be saved; it guarantees that all will be given the opportunity.

That said, I want to acknowledge honestly that the logic of Baker's model does push in a universalist direction. If the fire burns away everything that is impure, and what remains is necessarily good, and what is good would naturally choose God, then it becomes difficult to see how anyone could finally reject God. Baker herself seems to feel this tension. She resolves it by suggesting that some people might have no good left in them at all—that the fire could consume them entirely. My own resolution, as I stated above, is slightly different. I believe that a person's free will is so deeply embedded in their identity that it cannot be “burned away” like dross. A person who has freely and fundamentally constituted themselves by their rejection of God retains the capacity to say no even in the full blaze of divine love. The fire removes the evil, but it does not remove the freedom. And freedom, tragically, can be used to refuse life itself.

Objection 3: “The Fire Motif Is Being Read Selectively—Fire Also Represents Simple Destruction”

A fair critic might point out that I have emphasized the purificatory and theophanic uses of fire while giving less attention to passages where fire simply destroys (e.g., Gen. 19:24; Rev. 20:9). This is a legitimate observation. Fire in Scripture does sometimes function as straightforward destruction.

But even here, a closer look reveals nuance. Harrison makes the important observation that fire in the physical world does not actually cause things to cease to exist; it transforms them. Wood becomes ash, smoke, and energy. Both ancient Greek philosophers and modern science teach that things are not annihilated but transformed—whether from one form of matter to another or from matter to energy.⁶⁶ Harrison notes that even the Greek word for “destroy” used in the New Testament does not necessarily refer to a cessation of existence but to a breaking down and transformation. He suggests that even if one rejects the purificatory interpretation, the destructive interpretation can point toward a breaking down of hardened hearts so they can be transformed by faith.⁶⁷

My argument, however, does not rest on any single passage. It rests on the comprehensive, cumulative weight of the entire biblical witness. Fire in Scripture is associated with God's presence (the burning bush, the pillar of fire, Sinai, God's fiery throne), with God's purifying activity (the refiner's fire, smelting dross, testing by fire), with God's judgment from His presence (Nadab and Abihu, Korah, Revelation 14:10), and with the dual experience of God's presence as either salvation or torment (Isaiah 33:14–15; Daniel 3; the fire/water imagery). The divine presence model does not cherry-pick a few favorable passages; it integrates the full range of biblical fire imagery into a coherent framework.

Objection 4: “This Reading Is Novel and Unsupported by Church History”

In fact, as we will explore in Chapter 23C (the Eastern Orthodox tradition) and in Chapters 24–25 (the patristic testimony), the understanding of divine fire as purificatory and connected to God's presence is deeply rooted in the earliest Christian tradition. Clement of Alexandria, Origen, and Gregory of Nyssa all understood eschatological fire as purificatory.⁶⁸ The Eastern Orthodox tradition has preserved this understanding for nearly two millennia. The idea that hell is the experience of God's love by those who have rejected it is not a modern invention; it is an ancient Christian conviction that was marginalized in the West but never lost in the East. We will develop this point extensively in the chapters that follow.

XII. Baker’s View and the Resolution of “Eternal Hopelessness”

One of the most pastorally powerful dimensions of Baker's argument is her insistence that the divine presence model resolves what she calls the problem of “eternal hopelessness.” Traditional views of hell, Baker argues, cut off grace after temporal life comes to an end, leaving the unredeemed with eternal hopelessness.⁶⁹ But the divine presence model offers a different vision: no one is ever beyond God's grace. The fire of God's presence, even in the Lake of Fire, is an expression of God's relentless love and desire for reconciliation.

Baker turns to Isaiah 30:18 to make this point: “The LORD longs to be gracious to you, and therefore He waits on high to have compassion on you. For the LORD is a God of justice; how blessed are all those who long for Him” (NASB). In the original Hebrew, Baker notes, this verse paints a vivid picture of God sitting on high, longing with unquenchable thirst, consumed by His desire to shower His people with grace. And this longing is connected, paradoxically, to justice—not justice in the retributive sense that Western theology has usually assumed, but justice as the active expression of God's saving love.⁷⁰

Baker also argues that her view justifies God in a way that the traditional view cannot. A view of hell that conquers evil with love, that wins the battle with sin by winning over the heart of the sinner, resolves the problem of evil and suffering in the face of a loving and all-powerful God. No one suffers in eternal flames. No one spends eternity in hell. Instead, they stand in the fiery presence of God and find themselves forgiven, tested, purified, reconciled, restored, and transformed by divine power and love.⁷¹

I should note that I do not follow Baker this far. As I have argued throughout this book, I believe it is genuinely possible that some will resist God's love to the end and be annihilated. Baker's optimism about the outcome is not quite the same as mine. But her vision of God's intention—a God who never stops pursuing, never stops offering, never gives up on those He loves—is one I share wholeheartedly. The divine presence model, whether it leads to universalism or to conditional immortality, begins with the same foundational conviction: God is love, and His love never fails, even in the fire of judgment.

Conclusion

In this chapter, we have built a comprehensive biblical theology of fire and engaged extensively with Sharon Baker's development of the divine presence model in Razing Hell. Let me summarize the key findings.

First, fire in the Bible is not primarily about destruction. It is primarily about God. Fire is the medium of theophany—God appearing as fire in the bush, the pillar, the mountain, the throne. Fire is the declaration of God's nature—“our God is a consuming fire.” Fire is the expression of God's purifying activity—the refiner's fire, the smelting of dross, the testing of faith. And fire is the instrument of God's judgment, but judgment that comes from God's presence, not from some distant place of exile.

Second, Baker's central argument—that fire comes from God, surrounds God, and is God—is strongly supported by the biblical evidence. When you combine this with the observation that judgment occurs “in the presence of the Lamb” (Rev. 14:10) and that the fire of judgment comes “from God out of heaven” (Rev. 20:9), the case for the Lake of Fire as God's purifying presence becomes genuinely compelling.

Third, Baker's Otto narrative illustrates what this model looks like in concrete, pastoral terms. The worst sinner imaginable encounters not hatred but devastating love. The fire purifies. Repentance becomes possible—even at the final judgment. This is a postmortem opportunity.

Fourth, the theion (brimstone/sulfur) evidence, while not conclusive, is consistent with and supportive of the divine presence model. The ancient associations of sulfur with purification and divine worship reinforce the reading of the Lake of Fire as a place of divine purification rather than mere retribution.

Fifth, Baker's hybrid model—which allows for both purification and annihilation—can be sharpened by the formulation I have offered. Annihilation is the natural consequence of having nothing left after God's purifying fire removes all evil from a person who has freely constituted themselves entirely by their rejection of God. This integrates conditional immortality and postmortem opportunity into a single framework.

Sixth, Manis's critique of Baker's precision is valid and helpful, but it identifies an ambiguity that can be resolved rather than a fatal flaw. Baker's model, refined with greater philosophical precision, remains a powerful and biblically grounded account of the Lake of Fire.

In the next chapter (Chapter 23C), we will turn to the Eastern Orthodox patristic tradition and explore how the Greek-speaking Church Fathers—especially Isaac of Nineveh, Alexandre Kalomiros, and others—developed this very same understanding of hell as the experience of God's unchanging love by those who have rejected it. The biblical theology of fire that we have established here will find deep confirmation in the theology of the ancient church.

For now, I want to leave you with an image. Picture yourself standing before God. His presence is fire. His love is fire. His holiness is fire. There is nowhere to hide. The fire sees everything, exposes everything, touches everything. And the question is simply this: what will the fire find when it reaches you? If it finds faith, love, and repentance, the fire will feel like coming home. If it finds nothing but rebellion and hatred of God, the fire will be unbearable. But the fire itself is the same. It is God. It is love. And it is offered to every person who has ever lived, all the way to the last possible moment, with a longing so fierce that it burns like fire.