I had been hospitalized for two days when my blood sugar dropped unexpectedly. The doctors said I was to be sent home the next day, but in the night I slipped into a coma. I remember the sensation of sinking, sliding into a pool of quiet darkness. How peaceful it felt. The dissociation from my body brought no fear, only stillness. Suddenly, through a dim distance, I saw a glowing light grow brighter and brighter until the outline of a figure dressed in white emerged.

“Hello. I am the angel Gabriel,” he said. “I am sent to show you the world of the dead. There are nine levels of Hell, and each dispenses retribution. Humanity must beware.”

I stared at him fearfully. “Am I dead? Are you saying that I am going to Hell?”

“No,” he said. He took my hand and led me forward. I followed, unresisting. “I am going to take you through Hell, which is the land of the dead. The living who have passed are in Heaven, but the dead are here. I am here to show you the consequences to sin.”

He steered me through a dark, yawning gateway and down a gray corridor. We emerged into a vast landscape of caverns and tumbled rock. “Beware ignorance,” he said. “It is the glory of God to reveal a matter, and the honor of mankind to seek it out.”

We passed, like disembodied spirits, along the mouths of many caverns. Inside a particularly large cave, I saw the pulsing light of a giant television with people gathered around, eyes glued to the enormous screen.

“The heavens declare the glory of God,” said Gabriel, “but these people never sought it, nor do they seek it now.” They do not ponder the truths of their existence. They remain ignorant of anything deep or eternal. What right do they have to squander the gift of their life on shallow fare?”

I nodded mutely, glancing back at the faces fixated on the television screen in the dim cave. I caught a glimpse of a popular show on Netflix before the angel’s strong grip whisked me on. Gabriel’s stride quickened as we approached another open doorway leading deeper and lower in the darkened realm. We walked down a broad path until we reached another door. Above the entry, large letters spelled out: THE FLESH. I heard groans and sighs as we emerged onto a road stretching out in the distance. I glanced up at Gabriel.

“Yes,” said Gabriel, answering my wordless inquiry. “This level is beneath the previous one. Each level of Hell descends deeper; mankind must avoid or overcome them all.”

Uneasily, I followed him, glancing left and right at the people, who took no notice of us. Each seemed absorbed in the pursuit of something only he or she could see. Some were mumbling to themselves as they searched through rocks and along the side of the road, seeking food.

“I know I had a pizza here somewhere,” I heard one mutter.

Another wept aloud as she moved piles of rocks. “Where is my dinner?”

I saw men and women engaging in sexual acts, only to pull away, saying, “It doesn’t feel like anything. I can’t feel a thing. There is no climax, no conclusion.”

I saw men and women with mirrors applying makeup, only to wipe it off and cry aloud, “It makes me look worse!” Staring into the mirror, they started the same process again and again.

“Man does not live by bread alone,” Gabriel said quietly. “Beauty is not skin deep.”

“Um,” I said hesitantly. “Should I stop dyeing my hair?”

Gabriel looked over at me with the hint of a smile. “By no means. The body is a temple. Decorate it as you will. But never lose sight of eternal values.”

The smile disappeared and his face darkened as we reached the next doorway. “Beware this level,” he said sternly. “This door beckons even to young children. It seems innocent, but it is a trap that can change one’s character completely.”

A set of damp, moss-covered stone stairs led downwards in the gloom. “Be careful. This way is slippery,” he warned. I saw a dark liquid seeping from the walls onto the steps. Gingerly, I followed. The sound of the sighs and groans receded as we descended the steps deeper and deeper.

“It is a long, slippery slope,” said Gabriel. Finally, I saw a wide doorway ahead, and I squeezed my guide’s hand tightly. Agitated voices reached us.

“I was going to do it, but then I didn’t have time,” exclaimed a high, fast voice.

“Buy this car. It is a really good one,” gabbled another.

“Give me your $10,000, and I will double it.”

“I will repay you next month.”

“Give me $200, and you will get $2,000.”

The words spewed from the mouths of the people who never stopped talking. I tried to peer through the jabbering crowd for any sign of the children.

“I don’t see any children,” I said to Gabriel.

“No, you have to reach a certain age before you are held accountable.”

“I thought you said this level beckons to children.”

“Yes,” he said. “On Earth, this slippery slope begins early. To replace the truth with lies is tempting even when humans are very young. If allowed to continue and indulged in through adolescence and adulthood, it changes the character. Instead of being honest and true, one becomes corrupted and false. If the falseness cannot be overcome, one risks permanent destruction.”

He turned and looked me full in the face. “Beware.”

The word seemed to echo through the cavern, and I hung my head guiltily.

“Liars!” he said tersely before pulling me on toward the next gateway.

We entered the door only to fall, tumbling head over heels, spinning and spinning into a vortex of whirling air and thoughts.

Voices echoed in my head, but I could not make out the words. Louder and louder, they thundered in my head as I spun in a downward spiral. I could no longer feel Gabriel’s hand clasped in my own, or his strengthening presence. All I could feel were the sounds beating at me, striving with me, seeking to persuade me. I had been falling for a hundred years. No, a thousand! Time was gone; sanity was no longer an option.

“Yes, that is true,” I said sadly. “You are right. You are always right. Whatever you say, I believe.”

My tenth-grade teacher passed before my eyes. I saw a group of Hollywood actors and actresses whispering together. Then their images spun out of control as the whirling resumed, and they burst apart. My mind fragmented and splintered into slivers.

My hand was wrenched sideways, and I was pulled out of the swirling current.

I looked at Gabriel, surprised. “What happened?” I asked.

“That is the level of Deceit of Others,” he said.

“Those who have lived by deceiving others are now deceived themselves. To deliberately unbalance another person’s life by teaching falsehood is inexcusable. For this sin, there is great and fearful recompense. The next level is similar, but those within it have taken deceit into a realm the living God reserves for himself.”

“It is the level of False Spirituality.”

Gabriel sat down on the floor and gestured beside him.

I sat down and pushed the hair out of my eyes. I felt embarrassed that I had been deceived so quickly.

Gabriel bent forward and pointed down through the floor. I saw that we sat on a large sheet of thick, darkened glass.

As I stared, I began to make out images. I saw people walking, people floating on clouds, people gathered together in groups. I concentrated, and their words became clear.

“Any path is the path to God,” one said. “It doesn’t matter what you do. We are all gods, and at any moment we will raise ourselves out of here. We are good and we create all good.”

“No!” another protested. “We are not good. There is no good; there is no Creator; there is no holiness. There is only us, evolved from specks floating in space. That is our religion, and we are standing by it.”

The declaration made me glance at Gabriel. Tentatively, I said, “I believe in the Creator, but are we connected to stardust? I mean, to the matter of space.”

Gabriel inclined his head. “You are created in perfection. There is continuity between all created matter. But the spiritual being, alive in Heaven and dead here, is different. It is eternal, while space and matter are limited.”

I pondered that briefly, then my thoughts were captured again by the sanctimonious voices rising from below.

“God told me to come tell you that you are his favorites. You are the righteousness of God. You will reign forever with him because you are so wonderful. You are not like those other horrible people in Hell. You are the most special ones of all.”

“You are a liar! Finding God is a lifelong pursuit, and you will never find him. You must float and contemplate and examine your navel while in the highest trance. This will enhance your true, deep spirituality.”

A bark of laughter burst from Gabriel. Smiling, he pulled me to my feet. “Let’s leave them arguing piously,” he said.

We walked over the floor, which I now noticed was emitting enormous heat. Glancing around, I saw a valve resting on a small metal stub. To my amazement, I realized the whole realm below was inside a giant pressure cooker. I wondered how much pressure it would take for their heads to clear enough to absorb the simple truth. I saw a flash of fire under the floor.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Refiner’s fire,” he replied.

As we left, Gabriel spoke fervently: “Fear of God is the beginning of wisdom. In quietness and confidence is our trust. Whatsoever things are lovely and true, think on these things. God rewards those who diligently seek him, who do not turn away from knowing his ways and doing his good will. To those who rebel, lies only disillusionment and piercing sorrow and no end to their churning rebellious thoughts. Trust and obey to be happy and peaceful in our God.”

Suddenly, a neon sign loomed before us. On it were written the words: “REBELLION AND PRIDE.”

We rounded a corner and stepped onto a circular staircase. As we worked our way down the steps, I saw others rising, and we and they continued to climb down and around and up and around and down and around. Finally, I realized that the staircase wove continuously around and around on itself.

“It is a Möbius staircase,” said Gabriel. “There is no beginning or end, but only an endless loop on itself.”

I heard words rise as we continued the dizzying journey, up and down and around: wild images of time, streets, drugs, rooftops, neon, and sorrow.

“Why, it is Howl!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, a howl,” my guide replied.

“No, I mean it is Howl by Ginsberg. It is a poem. My friend read it to me recently. I thought its stream-of-consciousness was very clever.”

“It is a howl of rebellion and misery and loss,” Gabriel said. “There is a way that seems right to a man, but the end thereof is death. Consider him who suffered for your sakes. Be like him in humility and obedience, for he suffered death, even death on a cross, scorning its shame.” He looked at me. “Do you understand?”

“I think you are saying that humility and trust in God are the only way to please God,” I said tentatively.

“God is love, and love always trusts,” he said. “Making themselves wise in their own eyes, they become fools. The Ten Commandments were given through love. Rebellion against parents or righteous authority is not his loving will. Come now. I see these last levels have bewildered and pained you. We must go deeper and see the suffering there.”

“The three lowest levels can only be reached by elevator,” he said. We stepped into a room with buttons on one wall. Gabriel pushed the button marked 7 and turned to me. He stepped closer and placed his large hand over my heart. He looked into my eyes.

“Do you know you are loved?” he asked seriously. “Your Heavenly Father loves you, his Son loves you, the angels love you, and all true believers love you.”

I looked back into his eyes and saw the truth. He was in earnest. I felt conviction flow into my heart through his touch, and I saw that he truly cared, like an older brother who always had my good in mind, who would rejoice with me and mourn with me through whatever happened in my life.

“Yes,” I said, humbled by the revelation. “I am loved.”

“Good,” he said. “This level is hard to witness. The consequences they face are terrible to feel. But know that love is deeper and more enduring than horror.”

The door to the elevator clanged open. Shakily, I followed my guide. We stood at the edge of a vast plain. The air was darkened, like a gloomy day under heavy clouds. I heard cursing and laughter and screaming.

“Gang against gang,” murmured Gabriel beside me.

I looked ahead to see people with knives upraised, stabbing others who fought back. Blood flowed freely, and the figures slipped and slithered in circles as they sought to get the upper hand in the bloody fight. I saw entrails hanging from bodies, limbs hacked off, gutted corpses, and grievously wounded figures straining to kill each other.

Eventually, only three survivors cursed and struggled to inflict the killing blows. With a loud shriek, a demon burst onto the scene and beheaded the final three with vicious strokes of a machete.

I looked with horror at Gabriel. “What happens now?”

“They will reanimate and begin another murderous rampage shortly. Violence begets violence. They are being repaid for their actions.” He directed my gaze toward the left.

I saw huge, muscular, grotesquely formed demons assaulting men who had once assaulted others. The men squirmed and swore and struggled to escape. The demons laughed as they overpowered them, forcing on them the degradation they had once forced on others. Bile rose in my throat, and horror engulfed me. The demons were so distorted and monstrous.

“Who are these men?” I asked, my voice sounding harsh.

“Rapists,” Gabriel replied. “Their evil ways have brought them here.”

Although I was horrified at their punishment, my mind flew to the millions upon millions of women who have been sexually brutalized over Earth’s lifespan. How just is hell, I thought. How violent, how oppressive, how just.

Rape has been used as a weapon in war and by an endless parade of men seeking power and control over women, and sometimes children.

“Let us go on!” I shouted frantically to Gabriel.

Why have my deepest feelings erupted at the sight of rape? I wondered. Hell is misery. What did you expect to see within these chambers?

Gabriel tightened his grip on mine, unfurled his wings, and flew swiftly backward into the open doors of the elevator.

“You are loved,” he said, spreading his wing around my shoulders. I leaned against him in relief, drinking in his loving concern.

“Life is hell,” I said aloud.

“No,” answered Gabriel. “Life is given for joy and love. Life is eternal. Love is real. It is sin that is hell. Walk in the good way.”

“Can’t they ever escape?” I asked, the image of the hideous beasts still burning in my mind.

“They can escape by ceasing to be what they have become. If they change, really change, who they are inside, they will lose their current substance and be able to slip out from under their oppressors and make their way to the Door of Restoration.”

“The Door of Restoration!” I said, amazed. “Restoration from Hell?”

“Yes,” said Gabriel. “I will show you that door, which is an exit from every level in hell. But first, let us observe the fruits of murder.”

He pressed the button numbered 8.

“Number 9 is for mass murderers, and the deepest place is reserved for them. But murder, willful, deliberate murder, is taken very seriously in Heaven. What right does anyone have to take the life of the innocent? It is a debt that can never be repaid. “When you take someone’s life from the Earth, you take that person’s future, hopes, dreams, and good life. And from their descendants as well. People in eternity look back at the Earth and at their families and descendants with pleasure and interest, knowing they will be reunited one day. Who is any mortal to take that away from the innocent?”

The door opened, and my sage guide led me into a cavern as still and foul as a tomb. I saw a catacomb of cells stretching off into the darkness. Gabriel led me quietly past the rows of cells. I could see body parts inside each one.

I slowed my pace to look through the bars of one room. I saw an arm hanging from a bloody hook, another arm on the floor. The legs were stuck upright in the corner in a grotesque imitation of a standing man. The torso lay on the floor, gutted open. The head sat on a table. As I looked, the eyes blinked, then opened to gaze into mine. I saw the mouth move, but no sound came out. I hurried to match my pace with Gabriel’s.

“What is this silence?” I whispered.

“They can’t speak. Their heads have been separated from their voices. They took everything from their victims, and everything has been taken from them.”

Solemnly, we passed the cells and then retraced our steps to the elevator. I shuddered as we descended to the final, deepest level. A foul stench wafted up before our arrival. It smelled like a horrible mixture of feces, decay, and blood.

When the door opened, I stumbled out, clutching at my guide before standing upright. I saw no humans. Demonic faces leered at me from every angle, blood on their lips and teeth sharpened like knives. Never had I imagined such cruel, horrific visages. Their eyes were bloodshot, their fingers were like claws, and horns protruded from their bodies. Each clawed and gored anyone who approached. I saw some monsters lapping at the blood of one whose body they had rent asunder. Foul curses fell on our ears, as noxious as the stench.

“Where are the humans?” I asked.

“These are the humans,” he replied.

Peering closer, I recognized a grotesque, distorted image of Saddam Hussein. As he turned in our direction, claws upraised, another foul beast of like punishment gored him in the back. With a lightning thrust and a twist, the assailant who looked like Joseph Stalin pulled out his entrails and thrust them into his mouth.

I bent forward to vomit into the odorous mixture on the floor, but Gabriel steadied me with his hands and drew me back from the scene. His presence calmed me, and the nausea left.

“Come,” he said serenely, and I followed his quickening steps. Almost in a run, we reached the far end of the enormous, grisly crypt, where I saw a door that stretched up past the ceiling.

“This is the Door of Restoration,” he said.

Swiftly, Gabriel picked me up and somehow flew through, up, and out, until I could look back and see the door in its entirety. There was an opening at each level. The door was shaped like a cross and made of wood, like an old, rugged tree.

“The Door of Restoration?” I repeated.

“Yes. Look closely.”

I looked at the word engraved at each level of the entrance back to hope and life and joy eternal. There was only one word, repeated on each floor: REPENTANCE.

“This door opens directly into Yahweh’s throne room,” said Gabriel, with a deep smile.

I smiled at him, and suddenly I felt our bodies rushing upward. Then I felt myself return to the hospital room.

I opened my eyes, sat up, and said, “God be praised!” 

I heard a faint echo of my words, followed by a quiet, “God is love.”

I looked around the room in amazement. I reached for my pen and paper.