A: So what exactly are our logical options?
B: We both agree to the possibility of suffering after death. So either (a) No self suffers forever or (b) some selves suffer forever or (c) the pain or destruction annihilates the self. I’ll call (a) universalism and (b) infernalism and (c) annihilationism.
A: And you’re an infernalist?
B: Right, primarily because of Christ’s words in the synoptic Gospels.
A: So we’re talking about the Gehenna references, the narrow gate metaphor, the “Sin against the Holy Spirit” that specifies some will not be forgiven in the world to come, the other parables of exclusion.
B: Yes. I don’t see any way around Christ’s repeated clarity about two very different ultimate states. While I’ll admit that the αἰώνιον κόλασιν of Matthew 25: 46 is not necessarily “eternal punishment”, still, Christ’s exclusion metaphors are unavoidable.
A: But why would they prove infernalism rather than annihilationism? Isn’t the literal reading of some of those passages destruction?
And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell. (Mt. 10: 28)
Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it (Mt. 7:13)
[Lay up] a treasure in heaven that will never fail, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. (Lk 12:33)
See it? Taken literally they all would be annihilationist.
B: Look, I have independent reasons for not being annihilationist. Honestly, for me the only live options are universalism or infernalism, and those passages don’t suggest universalism.
A: Why can’t universalism allow for a destruction of the self?
B: Whatever metaphorical sense there is to destruction, it can’t describe the life of the saved.
A: Not unless the salvation of some would constitute a destruction of their very self.
B: But what would that mean?
A: One sense of self – perhaps even one of the first ones – is the narrative continuity of ones life. Why can’t we construct a narrative so antithetical to salvation that to save us would require complete rupture of this narrative continuity? In fact, isn’t salvation always destruction in this sense? I know that, as I grow in the Christian life, that what I know now would have made no sense to me before I was saved, and my life before I was saved makes less and less sense to me than it did at the time.