Why hell is (probably) empty: an optimistic faith in God

In my daily work, everything revolves around system design. When we build software, we look at the ‘user journey’. What is the user’s goal? And more importantly: is the system designed so that the user actually achieves that goal?

Imagine I launch a platform where I know beforehand that 95% of users will fail, drop out frustrated, or be permanently blocked due to one wrong click. You would – rightly – call me an incompetent architect. A good system is designed for success, not for failure.

Yet, that is precisely the image that many people, and unfortunately also many Christian denominations, have painted for centuries of God and the afterlife. The traditional image is binary: a narrow, exclusive heaven for the ‘lucky few’ who have checked exactly the right theological boxes, and eternal damnation for the rest.

For me as a father, as an entrepreneur and as a believer, that feels wrong. How can a God, whom we call ‘Father’ and who is almighty, design a plan with such a catastrophic failure rate?

The answer I have found in my faith in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is as simple as it is revolutionary: the system is not built to keep us out. It is built to bring us home.

The Father who waits, not the Judge who seeks

The core of my conviction as a Latter-day Saint is that our relationship with God is literally a parent-child relationship. This is not a metaphor. We believe that we are all spirit children of heavenly parents.

Think for a moment about what parenthood means. If my children leave the house, do I hope they stumble? Do I look for reasons to lock the door if they make a mistake? Of course not. My deepest wish is that they grow, learn, become happy, and that the relationship with them is maintained.

Why would we expect a perfect God to have less patience and love than we, imperfect fathers?

In our theology, God's purpose is not to select and separate, but, as we read in our scriptures: ‘to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man’. His ‘work’ is our success. He doesn't stand at the finish line with a stopwatch and a red card; He is the coach who runs alongside us.

No exclusion, but unlimited opportunities

This brings me to the role of Jesus Christ. In many religious conversations, it sometimes feels as if religion is a mechanism of exclusion: “You don’t belong because you don’t do X or believe Y.”

However, I see the gospel of Christ as a story of radical inclusion. Christ's Atonement is not limited coverage for a select group of policyholders. It is an infinite power intended to  everyone reach.

The unique aspect of our doctrine is that we believe these opportunities do not stop at death. For someone who thinks logically, the idea that your eternal destiny depends on the accidental geographical location or time in which you were born is unjust. Someone born in Asia in the 12th century never heard of Jesus. Or a child who dies shortly after birth without being baptized? Is he condemned?

With us, the answer is a resounding: no. Death is not a deadline. It is rather a relocation. We believe that the learning process, growth, and the opportunity to embrace the gospel continue in the spirit world. This means that billions of people who never got the chance here will still get it on the other side. No one is written off due to a lack of information or opportunity.

A spectrum of glory

And even for those who ultimately make different choices, God is more merciful than we often think. Joseph Smith, the founder of our church, had a vision that completely broke open the classic heaven-hell model. He saw no binary outcome, but ‘many mansions’.

We believe in ‘degrees of glory’. The sun, the moon, and the stars are used as metaphors for the different levels of glory that people will inherit. The fascinating thing about this is that even the lowest degree of glory – for people who consciously did not follow God – is still a place that surpasses our wildest dreams and where you would rather be than here on earth.

Such is the depth of God's grace: even for those who 'fail' by the highest standards, He provides a place of rest and peace, not eternal torment. 'Hell' (in the sense of a place from which you never escape and suffer infinitely) is virtually empty in our theology, reserved for the few who actively combat the truth with full knowledge.

What this means to me

This theology of optimism changes everything.

• It takes away the fear. I don't have to be afraid of a God who waits for me to stumble.
• It makes me kinder to others. Everyone is on their own developmental timeline, and that timeline doesn't stop at the grave.
• It motivates. Life is not a fearful test, but an adventurous learning school to become – step by step – more like our Father.

For everyone who is searching, who has turned their back on religion because of its harshness or exclusivity: I invite you to consider this vision. It is a faith in which the Door is always open, and in which the Father wants nothing more than for all His children, no matter how long the journey takes, to eventually come home.