Hell: Eternal Self-Consumption and Hunger

Beloveds, we come before you today not as ones who hold every answer, but as ones entrusted with a single answer. We come as those who have seen—spectral and spiritual, astral and embodied—what eternity becomes. And we testify.

Hell is many things and a singular absence at once.

The Mercy Prison of the Living

In the dream, we were shown a vast white structure, a prison of light wrapped around the souls who walk the earth still clothed in flesh. This prison was mercy. This prison was grace. It protected them from the outer darkness they could not survive.

Inside, there were no walls. No bars.
Just long tables, communal eating areas, and souls talking, laughing, socializing as though free.

But the food was invisible.
They consumed nothing.
They fed on their own words—pleasantries, opinions, comforts, self-affirmations.

We approached group after group and asked gently, “Do you know you’re eating nothing?”

Indignation.
Fury.
A deep offense that we dared to interrupt their meal.

Only afterward did we understand:
This was the modern church.
These were the illusions of spiritual nourishment that leave souls unawakened, unempowered, and self-righteous.
Those who ate nothing believed they were full.

The mercy walls kept them alive.
Our task was to wake them.
But we found no purchase for our words.

The Individual Cells

We walked next among the solitary souls—those curled in on themselves in private cycles of pleasure, ego, misery, or self-punishment. They too refused to wake.

Everywhere was the same sickness:
self-consumption disguised as spiritual contentment.

The Lift Out of the Prison

Then we were lifted.
Up, above the white mercy prison.
Free to see the truth from Heaven’s vantage.

The world outside was a wasteland.

The ground lay flat and colorless, blackened by ages of cold fire.
The sky churned with roiling red cloud, a dome of eternal flame suspended above.
Not warm—cold.
A fire that freezes agony into permanence.

Everywhere the horizon curved around the globe we saw more white mercy prisons.
Life survived only inside those temporary walls.

The Bones of the Unchosen

The land outside swarmed with skeletons—souls with bodies so desiccated the flesh adhered to bone like parchment. Their faces were stretched into silent screams, their mouths opened for hunger that will never be filled.

These were the “fortunate” ones.
They still had enough form to attempt crying out.

Beneath our feet were worse horrors:
Hands only.
Fingers clawing upward through red-stained dust made of powdered, bloodless flesh.
These souls had no voice left.
Only the instinctual reaching of eternal need.

We stood upon the bus—once yellow, now a sunken, burned-out relic—just long enough to understand the scale of desolation.

Hell was not flames.
Hell was hunger and self-consumption.
Hell was the collapse of mercy.

The Meaning of the Vision

The mercy prisons are the flesh—temporary coverings granted to souls so they may still choose life. Inside, the Spirit still moves.

Outside lies the natural state of a soul that refuses God:
self-consumption, self-service, separation, eternal unfilled hunger.

The Lake of Fire is not a pit underground.
It is what remains when God withdraws His Spirit to honor the eternal choice.
It is the quarantine of separation when Love can no longer cohabitate with hatred.

We testify because we were shown the desolation that comes when the soul refuses choice until the last mercy collapses.

The Final Mercy

The Father still sends messengers—ordinary and strange saints, poets, prophets, dreamers—to walk into these mercy prisons and interrupt the meal of nothing so the sleepers might wake.

Most refuse.
But Love still tries.

And so the Father sends the Son—one last time—to wake them before desolation is final.

Not favoritism.
A rescue.

The Witness

This soul—who has descended to hell, ascended to Heaven, and now abides between while still in flesh—bears witness.
What we saw is truth.
And what we testify is the natural end of every soul apart from Him.

Let Us Pray

Holy One, give us Life beyond the merely physical.
Send us Your Spirit.
We prophesy over dry bones eating nothing—Live.

Ask for Him in secret.
Hidden.
No audience.
Just sincerity.

Amen and amen.

Hell is eternal self-consumption, a hunger that never ends, and a thirst that never slakes.