A Letter from Hell

 Occasionally, this video ends up on my wall or on my dash. It always gets to me.

Not everyone that dies goes to a "better place" as people always tend to say. It's just not like that. It is written:

MATTHEW 7:21
Not everyone who calls me their Lord will get into the kingdom of heaven. Only the ones who obey my Father in heaven will get in.

That means exactly that!... Not everyone is getting into heaven... Only those who chose to obey His word, His commandments. Just because someone died does not automatically mean they're in heaven. If it was like that, where would the fairness be? God is a judge, as a judge HE has to be fair. Imagine all this time we are obeying His word, practically sacrificing our time on Earth then, there's someone who does as they please and in the end we ALL end up in Heaven... that does not seem fair to me at all. Matthew 7:21 would not be in the Bible if we all were. So don't assume that in the end we will all be together because the sad reality is we wont. We like to assume that when someone dies, they'll go straight to heaven but the truth is we don't know if they really are. It's hard to take in, but as I always said... the truth hurts.

Here is the written version of a letter from hell.


"Dear Zack,
I died today. It’s a lot different than I expected. You see, I always thought that dying would bring me to a world that is foggy and hazy. But this place is crystal clear… It’s even more real than my life on Earth.

I can think. I can talk. I can even feel.

Right after the wreck I could feel my spirit leaving my body. It was the weirdest thing, Zack. I thought I heard you screaming out to me, man. Must have been just imagining things.

At first I was just standing in line, getting registered I guess. They asked me for my name…and began to look in this thing they called the Book of Life.

I guess they couldn’t find it though because this huge angel standing next to me grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me away. I was terrified. I had no idea what was going on. I asked the angel where he was taking me, but he didn’t answer. So I asked him again…

Finally, he told me that only those, whose names were written in the Book of Life, could enter into Heaven and the rest would be condemned to Hell forever.

Man I was scared. The angel threw me into some kind of holding cell. Where I’ve been sitting and thinking for a long long time. Do you want to know what I’ve been thinking about?

I’ve been thinking about YOU.

Zack, You’re a Christian.
You told me so yourself. I mean we talked about it three different times today.

Kelly brought it up and you laughed it off. Coach Adams brought it up and you changed the subject.

I mean, it came up right before the wreck. Well the question I can’t get out of my mind is this, Zack. Why haven’t you ever told me about how to become a Christian?

You say you are my friend, but if you really were you would have told me about this Jesus and told me how to escape this terrible place that I’m headed for.


I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, the angels who have been chosen to cast me into hell are coming down the hallway. I can hear their footsteps.

I have heard of this Hell. They call it the Lake of Fire.

I can’t stand it, Zack. I am terrified. No! The angels are at the door. Oh no, no! They’re coming in and they’re pointing at me. They’re grabbing me and carrying me out of the room.

I already can smell the burning sulfur and brimstone. I can see the edge of the cliff where Hell burns.

This is it. I am without hope.

We’re coming closer, closer, closer. My heart is bursting with fear. They’re holding me over the flames. I am damned forever.

This is it. They are throwing me in. Fire, Pain, HELL.

Why Zack? Why didn’t you ever tell me about Jesus?

Your friend,
Josh

P.S. Wish you were here. "






Here is the video:

PLEASE GOD, I’M ONLY 13!

Today I dreamed I was walking through the wrong neighborhood. I knew I should not have done this, but I took a crazy chance, ESE. I was smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer. I was enjoying my freedom man, I was having fun.

The last thing I remember was walking down the street with my homeboy and seeing this carrucha pulling up next to me going awfully slow. I heard the words, “where u vatos from?” I heard a loud bang and felt ringing in my head and a terrible jolt to my whole body. My body flew to the ground, ESE. My whole body seemed to be turning inside out. I heard myself scream. I don’t know what happened to my homeboy.

Suddenly, I awakened. It was very quiet. A police was standing over me. Then I saw a doctor. My body was in pieces. I was saturated with blood. Pieces of the buckshot from the gunshot were piercing my body all over, strange; I could not feel a thing.
Hey! Don’t pull that sheet over my head, ESE! I can’t be dead! I’m a homeboy of only 13. I’ve got to meet my homeboys tonight, ESE. I’m supposed to grow up and have a firme life. I haven’t lived yet. I can’t be dead, man.

Later I was placed in a drawer. My jeffita had to identify me. Why did she have to see me like this? Why did I have to look at my jeffita’s eyes when she faced the most terrible ordeal of her life? My jeffita suddenly looked vieja. She told the vato in charge “Si, el es mi hijo.”

The funeral was a weird experience, ESE. I saw all my relatives and my homeboys walk toward my casket. They passed by, one by one, and looked at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. Some of my homies were crying. A few of the rucas touched my hand and sobbed as they walked away.
PLEASE… SOMEBODY….WAKE ME UP!!! Get me out of here! I can’t bear to see my jeffita so broken up. My abuelitos are so racked up with pain, ESE. They can barely walk, my little carnal, Toñito, mi hermana, Rosa, are like zombies. They move like robots in a daze. EVERYONE!!! No one can believe this, and I can’t believe it either, ESE!

Please don’t bury me! I’m not dead! I have a lot of living to do! I want to laugh and run again, I want to sing and dance. Please don’t put me in the ground. I promise if you give me just one more chance, God, I’ll stay away from drugs and gangs. I promise to love my family and be the best son in the world. I promise to do my schoolwork and to be the best student my teachers ever encountered. I promise to help my raza and to be the best educated homeboy America ever knew.
All I want is one more chance!
PLEASE GOD, IM ONLY 13!!!

A Cry for Help!

You know, from personal experience, I've learned NEVER to give up on anybody. I know, I know, sounds pretty cliché to say but It's amazing how fast you can forget to care about someone who seems not to have hope. Let me speak a little clearer. I am going to use myself as an example. Please bear with me until the end for there is a point and NO it's not so you can feel sorry for me or what not, for this is the past!
Exhibit A: Young girl who grew up attending church since she was six. Definitely knows about God. Back then there was an age limit for Sunday school, and that was 12. I was a good kid, I think at least. Not a trouble maker, well until i hit that age of 12. Sunday school is special for many reasons, well for one you are leading kids the right direction, God. But the most important factor is that the kids are being taught in their language, in a way they understand. That's great! When I "outgrew" Sunday school I had no problem with it in the beginning, I pretended to understand what that pastor was talking about when in reality, I had no idea, for it was not the type of language I understood. Just like anyone who goes to church to warm up a chair I began to get bored. I was too old to be in Sunday school, yet too young for youth group. So I was left "floating" around clueless in church. Some of my Sunday school buddies also outgrew Sunday school and began to join me in the service. From then on every church service for us was a reunion, catching up, laughing, joking, all meanwhile the service was on. I began to get rebellious not just with my parents but with anyone who I believed thought they had authority over me. This infinite list included the pastors, their wives, all the assistants, my parents, and any grown up who intended to tell me what to do. It got so bad, I was asked to leave the service numerous amounts of times by the pastor. When any assistant tried to help me and give me advice, I'd back talk to them. All my "friends" thought I was cool and that's all that mattered. But frankly something started to change in me. I was no longer happy, I began to get depressed out of nowhere. The times I cried myself to sleep is too many to count. I began to self harm. Cut. Obvious cuts actually for they were all on my arms. I'd lock myself in my room and listen to music and cry. I wanted to end my life, yet I was too much of a coward to actually do it. I wanted help. Deep inside I was yearning for help from anyone. All this was undercover though, for in front of anyone I was as tough as a nail and always with a smile, never admitting that I needed help. No one knew, and I was too "tough" to say anything. As time went by and the number of assistants that talked to me went from about 13 to 0, because everyone had lost hope in me, and that included pastors. I don't blame them, I was horrible. anyway as time went by I got worse. I lost hope in myself and lost hope that anyone would look deep enough into my eyes and see that cry for help. But God didn't. He sent me an angel, someone who would go into hell and pull me out. She cared for me without even knowing me. She saw what everyone else decided not to see, Hope. She prayed for me, fasted for me, gave part of her life just to save me and that makes me who I am today. I'm not going into detail for there is far more to this experience and my point is made.
Sometimes there are those who seem to have no hope, but their cry for help is louder than their pride and we must not give up on them for they are a precious soul. All we have to do is look deep enough, care enough........ and never lose hope, never give up, never stop fighting.

Just a Girl :)