A perspective on God and Goodness
A philosophical essay on heaven and hell as states of conscience
Their rims were tall and awesome, and the rims of all four were full of eyes all around.
(Ezekiel 1:18)
Maybe the fallen angel is not pure evil, but the part of God that refused to align with what “good” was defined to be.
Not rebellion in the dramatic sense, but doubt. A question. A thought that did not fit into perfection.
If God is absolute, then nothing ambiguous can remain within Him. Absolute goodness cannot tolerate contradiction. And so, being almighty, God tore that part from Himself. Not out of weakness, but contrary out of mightiness and self control, out of necessity. Purity was preserved through separation.
Scripture tells us that no one can see God and live. This is often read as a moral warning, but perhaps it is something more literal than that. Perhaps no human can endure pure goodness without being overwhelmed by it. Not because goodness is cruel, but because it is infinite, unfiltered, unbearable to what is finite and contaminated.
Imperfection cannot stand in the face of overwhelming perfection.
The Bible itself seems to understand this logic. Again and again, it favors removal over integration. If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off. If your eye causes you to sin, tear it out. Not as a command to mutilate the body, but as a metaphor for inner division. Not flesh, but impulses. Not eyes, but ways of seeing. Not hands, but ways of acting, everything that drives you into sin. Not heal it. Not negotiate with it. Remove it. Amputate it. Separate the part that is toxic. Save the whole by sacrificing the part.
If humans are instructed to do this to remain righteous, it is not unreasonable to imagine that God did something similar first.
The Old Testament reflects a world where good and evil still coexist within the same order. Law is harsh. Justice is violent. “Eye for an eye” governs survival. God appears as warrior, judge, divider. Force is still necessary because contradiction has not yet been fully expelled, and Heaven is still impure.
When Moses returns with the law, he finds the people worshipping another god. There is no mercy. God orders death. This is not an exception, it is the rule. Early goodness does not tolerate deviation. It protects itself through violence because it is still conflicted. Purity is not yet possible, only control.
Then, according to later tradition, comes the battle in heaven. A separation. What cannot align is cast out. Angels fall. Heaven is purified. Whether we understand heaven as a place or as God’s own order, or even God Himself, the meaning is the same: contradiction is no longer contained and tolerated. It is removed.
Only after this does Jesus appear.
And Jesus does not come as a warrior. He does not bring new laws of retaliation. He teaches the opposite:
Do not fight back. Turn the other cheek. Forgive endlessly. Love your enemies.
This shift is too radical to be ignored.
Perhaps Jesus’ teachings are not instructions for a world still at war, but the ethics of a world where the war has already ended. Where evil has been exiled. Where there is nothing left to fight, only something left to forgive.
In this light, non-violence is not naive. It is post-conflict. Forgiveness is not weakness. It is what remains when purity no longer needs defending.
If God is now pure purity, without doubt, without contradiction, then Jesus’ message makes sense. There is no longer a need for force. Only mercy. Only restraint. Only love that absorbs violence instead of returning it.
This also reframes evil itself. Evil is not an equal opposite to good. It is what good could not keep within itself. Not rebellion, but remainder. Not a rival kingdom, but that small thought of revenge, that doubt, or darkness.
Hell, then, is not opposition, is a place for everything perfection could not contain.
And humans, caught between these realities, inherit the split. We carry good and evil not as moral failure, but as design. We are torn because something before us was torn first.
Perhaps this is why we are both drawn to goodness and the same time being good is seen as weakness Why purity inspires awe and fear at the same time. Why Scripture warns that no one can see God and live. It’s not as threat, it’s just the truth.
Pure goodness is not gentle. It is overwhelming.
If heaven and hell are not places but states, then they do not wait for us after death, they are already here. Not as geography, but as consciousness.
Heaven would not be a reward, but a condition: a state of conscience in which nothing is divided against itself. A mind at peace because nothing within it is at war.
Hell, then, would not be punishment, but dissonance. A state where contradiction remains unresolved. Where impulses pull in opposite directions. Where separation is internal rather than cosmic. Not fire and torment, but endless friction of the mind.
This fits disturbingly well with the earlier logic. If God removed from Himself what could not align with absolute goodness, then hell is not rebellion against God, but distance from coherence. Not exile from a place, but exile from harmony.
A.O. Homorodean
These were the living creatures I had seen under the God of Israel by the Kebar River, and I knew that they were cherubim.
Ezekiel 10:20