You hear people make the remark that they are in “hell” here on earth. The living style and their living circumstances make them believe that they are in the only hell that there is. If these people believe in Jesus Christ as their personal Savior then they are in the only hell they will ever see. If these people don’t believe as Jesus Christ as their personal Savior then they will see the real hell. The real hell is a place that was made for the fallen Angles. It even has a special level for those who don’t believe in Hell.

Just like any other paper, book, or anything that you read, a few people will agree with this and others will become angry with it. First this article is about Hell a place that many will tell you doesn’t exist. The second thing you will leave with is that there is babies in hell and their roll in punishment for their killing. I believe a baby is a live person when the egg and the sperm become one. Many will argue that it is the women’s right and no one else should have anything to say about it. Many women regret it after they have an abortion.

I have just finished “MY VISIT TO HELL, by Paul Phigpen and I have read several other books on people who have had “out of the body experience” several going to heaven and several going to hell with a mission to return and let us know what each one is like. They describe hell in much the same way except for “My Visit to hell” has a place for babies that the others don’t talk about.

What if you; those who don’t believe in hell, and those who believe there is no punishment for killing a baby, born or unborn, are all wrong. One that there is a hell and that Paul Thigpen description is correct. Just not wanting to believe is the only contradiction we have in stating he is wrong.  

The book “My Visit to Hell” is started off with the location being in Atlanta, Ga in a poor neighbor that was at one time a faculty district. The author had been to the library late at night and was walking home when he became lost. He was a cassation in a mostly Africa American district where tempers were high because the night before several white kids had set a Africa American man on fire after soaking him in gasoline.

The arthor in his book starts off by stating he was walking along and was approached by three Africa American teens whose eyes were glazed over like they were high on crack cocaine. The three Africa American kids stopped a few feet from him and stated “It’s your turn now cracker”. At which time the author turned and started running with the three teens after him. As he ran through the old factory buildings he came to a set of steps that ran down into a dark hole that he thought he might be able to hide in. As he entered into the dark hole the steps, being old and termites eaten, gave away with him and as he fell he cried out “God help me” From the time he cried “God help me” and until the place where we begin talking about the children you will have to read the book to find out what happen. I will tell you that he had a guild to escort him through the levels of hell because he had cried out for help when he fell.

By- passing much of the story until the author and his guide approached an area he described as a red glow on the horizon, like the sunrise mirrored on a lake shining of the water except there was not sunrise or lake. There were no campfires but a rosy light bathed everything nearby with a faint luster from the flames. Around the lake it looked like palms trees judging by the silhouettes of their branches and fields of flowers, wild and sweet. Around all of this were walls of ragged cliffs, rising starkly upward.

Before coming close enough to see what was making the colors he could hear the “crystal laughter of children, a multitude of children, their voices a sparkling waterfall of innocence” {1} as he approached closer he could make out the lines of their tiny figures, he figured none of them over five when they died. There were no adults anywhere to be seen. There was no children arguing and without wrangling, many couldn’t speak at all. They were all crawling, waddling, running or carrying others. His guide informed him that this was the “Lake of the Innocents” where the children had died before they were old enough to have sins of their own.

Upon coming close to the “lake, the deeper the color turned, until it became blood red. The surface was covered with large bubbles, and the water rippled with a regular rhythm, the gentle, double pulse of a heartbeat.”  { 2 } When he reached the edge he saw what the bubbles held, Babies, Millions of unborn and new born babies, could be seen on the horizon, perfectly formed and still, the babies floated,  wave after gentle wave of countless little bodies. 

The guide told him that the babies wouldn’t be there very long, a messenger she explained would come and called the children and then took them away. She had been told that the “one who walked the earth” had said once:     “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them; She didn’t know who he was but she believed even hell had been forced to obey him.

As they started to leave he took a last look across the lake and he noticed something strange. All the babies were sucking their thumb of one hand with the other hand stretched out, with a single finger pointing downward toward the bottom of the lake. He asked the guide if she knew why they were like that and, she reply “you will see soon enough”.

From here they went through a door and down steps almost straight down. After climbing down for some time they arrived at another area and the guide explained that they had arrived at the bottom of the Lake of the Innocents.

The guide explained that the children were unaware of what they were doing; it was just the innocent ones reaching out the last time to the parent that had rejected them. Then they are taken by the messenger. 

Believe this or don’t believe this, believe the bible or don’t believe in the bible is all up to you.
For your souls sake I hope you find Jesus as your Savior before it’s too late.

{1} MY VISIT TO HELL by Paul Thigpen
{2} MY VISIT TO HELL by Paul Thigpen.

Richard L. Brown