Appendix E
The Short Answers to the Hard Questions
Someone you love may have died. You may not have the energy to read every chapter right now. You may just need a fast, honest answer to the question that keeps circling your mind. This appendix is for you.
If you are a pastor preparing for a hard conversation, you need the short version before you sit down across from a grieving family. This appendix is for you too.
Each section below poses a common objection to the idea that God’s saving offer continues past the moment of death. Each answer is short. It does not try to replace the full treatment. Instead, it gives you the core of the reply in a few paragraphs and then points you to the chapter where the argument is developed at length. Think of this as a map. The territory is in the chapters.
We begin with the two Bible passages you will hear most often.
This is the single verse you will hear more than any other. It deserves a careful answer. And a careful answer actually helps the book’s case.
Look at what the verse says. It names two events: death and judgment. It says judgment comes after death. It does not say judgment comes at the instant of death. Death and judgment are two distinct points, and the intermediate state lies between them. The verse establishes that death is unrepeatable and that judgment is certain. This book agrees with both of those claims. What the verse does not establish is that no grace operates between death and judgment. That idea is read into the text, not drawn out of it.1
The context confirms this. The author of Hebrews is not writing about personal destiny. He is comparing Christ’s once-for-all sacrifice with the repeated sacrifices of the old covenant. Just as human beings die once (not over and over, as reincarnation would have it), so Christ was sacrificed once to take away sin. The parallel is about the once-for-all nature of both death and atonement.2 The verse rules out reincarnation. It does not rule out a postmortem encounter with Christ before the judgment arrives.
The verse does not even specify when the judgment occurs. It does not say the final judgment happens immediately after death. Since most Christians place the final judgment at the end of history, the interval between death and that judgment is exactly where this book locates the continued offer.3
For the full exegesis of this passage, including the Greek structure of hapax (“once”) and the treatment of the additional “deadline” texts, see Chapter 19.
The parable of the rich man and Lazarus is the second-most-cited objection. It deserves respect, but it does not teach what the objection needs.
First, it is a parable. Parables make a central point and should not be pressed for doctrine in every detail. Jesus is telling a story about a rich man who ignored a beggar at his gate. The main point is a warning about hard-hearted wealth and the refusal to listen to Moses and the Prophets.4
Second, the chasm in the story is described by Abraham, not by Christ. The person who holds “the keys of Death and Hades” (Rev 1:18) is not yet present in the story’s world. The parable depicts the pre-Christ arrangement of the dead, the two chambers of Sheol before the descent of Christ changed everything. This book’s claim is about what happened after Christ descended to the dead and led captivity captive (Eph 4:8–10; 1 Pet 3:18–22). The descent transformed Hades from a sealed prison into a place of divine presence.5
Third, even Talbott observes that the story never says the chasm will remain in place forever. It describes the situation at one moment, before the cross and resurrection changed the landscape of death.6
What the parable does establish is something this book fully affirms: the intermediate state is conscious, morally serious, and real. For the full treatment, see Chapter 18. For the two-stage history that explains how the descent changed Hades, see Chapter 14.
No. This book argues about when the offer is made, not about whether everyone accepts it. The central claim is that God’s saving offer opens at the deathbed, continues in the intermediate state, and ends at the final judgment. That is a claim about the span of the offer. It is not a claim about the outcome.
Freedom is real. The offer is maximally persuasive, but it is never coercive. God does everything love and wisdom can do. He presents the gospel to each person in the way most likely to win a free “yes” (this is optimal grace, developed in Chapter 23). But the person can still say no. The demons “believe and shudder” (James 2:19) yet do not repent. Clear knowledge of God does not automatically produce surrender.7
The author holds genuine openness to a conservative, Christ-centered biblical universalism. The hope that God’s purifying love might eventually bring every soul to a free “yes” is a beautiful hope, and the book does not dismiss it. But the book does not require it. The mechanism it argues for is compatible with all three major views of final destiny: eternal conscious torment, conditional immortality, and universal restoration. Readers holding any of these views can accept the book’s central claim about the offer’s span.
For the full treatment of where this book stands on the universalism question, see Chapter 24. For the engagement with universalism itself, see Chapter 28.
This is closely related to the previous question but comes from a different angle. Some readers hear “God offers salvation after death” and immediately think, “Then everyone makes it.”
That does not follow. An offer is not the same as an acceptance. We all know people who have heard the gospel clearly in this life and said no. The capacity to refuse God is not erased by death. It is not even erased by standing in God’s full presence at the final judgment. Freedom remains, and some may freely turn away even then.8
The book is honest about this. The author’s working view is conditional immortality: those who finally and freely refuse Christ, even at the last judgment, are not tormented forever but are destroyed. The author holds this view with sorrow, not satisfaction. He also keeps the universalist hope genuinely open. What he does not do is promise an outcome that only God can decide.
For the full discussion of free refusal in the face of God’s presence, see Chapter 22. For the author’s working view, see Chapter 24.
This is perhaps the most emotionally powerful objection, and it deserves the fullest answer. The short version: postmortem hope does not weaken the call to evangelism. It deepens it.
Start with the simplest point. The Great Commission is a command: “Go into all the world and preach the gospel” (Mark 16:15). It is not a suggestion tied to our estimate of how well it will work. God has the right to give the command, and we have the duty to obey it. Our obedience does not depend on whether God has other plans for the people we do not reach.9
Beyond obedience, the motivation for missions runs far deeper than the fear of hell. It rests on love for Christ, gratitude for what He has done, the joy of partnership with God, and the knowledge that we will stand before Him and give account.10 If our only reason to evangelize is that people will be damned otherwise, our motivation is thinner than Scripture makes it.
There is also a practical reason. The gospel does real good in this life. A person who comes to Christ now experiences forgiveness, peace, community, and transformation today. They are spared suffering that the postmortem path does not spare. The dark passage is real (see Chapter 10). No one should treat the postmortem offer as an easy fallback.
And on the logic of optimal grace, a soul that has been shaped toward Christ during this life is more likely to say yes, not less. Everything we do to plant the seed now makes the soil readier. Evangelism in this life and God’s continued pursuit after death are not in competition. They are two movements of the same love.11
For the full treatment of this objection, including the missiological case, see Chapter 32.
There is a family resemblance, but the differences are real and important.
In traditional Catholic theology, purgatory is for believers who die in a state of grace but still need purification before entering heaven. They are already saved. They do not need to be evangelized. The purpose of purgatory is to finish their sanctification or to pay remaining debts of punishment.12
This book argues something different. The continued offer is not purgation for the already-saved. It is a genuine encounter with Christ for those who have not yet believed. The cleansing that happens is the work of meeting Christ in His unveiled presence, not a penal satisfaction imposed on the justified. And the timeline is different too: the book locates the final encounter at the Great White Throne judgment, not in a temporally extended state of purgation between death and heaven.13
That said, there is genuine kinship worth honoring. Jerry Walls has shown that purgatory at its best expresses a deep Christian conviction. God does not give up on making us holy. The process of transformation may extend beyond the last heartbeat.14 The conviction is shared. The mechanism and the theology differ. This book stands in the evangelical tradition, not the Catholic one, while treating Catholic thought with real respect.
For the full engagement with purgatory, see Chapter 32. For the divine-presence theology that shapes this book’s picture of the lake of fire, see Chapter 26.
This is a question from the opposite direction. Instead of worrying that the offer is too generous, this objection worries that standing before God would overpower the will. If a soul sees God in His full glory, could it really say no? And if it could not, is the “yes” truly free?
The answer turns on a careful distinction. Seeing God at the judgment removes ignorance, not freedom. The soul sees truly but does not yet see fully. The full beatific vision, the face-to-face fellowship that the saints enjoy in glory, belongs to those who say yes and enter that fellowship. At the judgment, the soul is fully informed without yet being in the state that makes refusal impossible.15
Scripture confirms that clear knowledge of God does not guarantee surrender. The demons know exactly who God is. James tells us they “believe and shudder” (James 2:19). They do not repent. Pharaoh saw the plagues and hardened his heart. The religious leaders saw the miracles of Jesus and plotted His death. Knowledge is not the same thing as consent.
The offer at the judgment is the most powerful and persuasive moment in all of history. It removes every excuse and every misunderstanding. But it does not override the will. That is what makes the “yes” genuine, and it is what makes the possible “no” tragic.
For the full argument, see Chapter 22. For the universalist case that no one can finally refuse, and the book’s honest engagement with it, see Chapter 20.
The charge is understandable. The thesis does sound like good news, and good news should always be tested. But the case this book makes is not built on wishful thinking. It is built on a cumulative argument from five converging lines of evidence.
First, the character of God as revealed in Scripture. God desires all to be saved (1 Tim 2:4). He takes no pleasure in the death of the wicked (Ezek 33:11). He leaves the ninety-nine to find the one (Luke 15). That God does not give up at the grave (see Chapter 2).
Second, the biblical texts themselves. The descent passages (1 Pet 3:18–22; 4:6; Eph 4:8–10) show Christ reaching into the realm of the dead. The universal-scope texts proclaim that “every knee shall bow” (Phil 2:9–11). The judgment texts, read carefully, point toward a wider and longer offer than the traditional view allows (see Chapters 15–17).
Third, the historic descent tradition. The church has confessed since the early centuries that Christ “descended to the dead.” The Apostles’ Creed already contains the seed of this hope (see Chapter 16).
Fourth, the near-death-experience evidence. Veridical NDEs provide strong evidence for substance dualism, and the encounter with Christ at the threshold is widely and cross-culturally reported (see Chapters 6 and 12).
Fifth, the best available theology. Optimal grace, middle knowledge, and the divine-presence theology of the lake of fire come together in a framework that is philosophically rigorous and pastorally powerful (see Chapter 23).
Any one of these lines might be questioned. Together they form a case that deserves more than a wave of the hand. And the book is careful not to claim certainty about any particular soul’s outcome. It claims that the offer is wider and longer than many have believed. That is a claim about what God does, not a guarantee about what anyone will choose.
This question lies close to the heart of every parent who has lost a child. The short answer is the answer that matters most: they are safe.
Babies and small children have not yet reached the capacity for moral self-determination. They cannot exercise the kind of conscious faith that adults are called to. Scripture shows God’s tender care for the very young: “Let the little children come to me” (Matt 19:14). David, after the death of his infant son, said, “I shall go to him” (2 Sam 12:23), expressing confidence that the child was with God.16
On the logic of optimal grace, a God who composes the best possible approach for each soul will not fail a child who never had the chance to choose. Whatever the encounter looks like for an infant, it is designed by perfect love and perfect knowledge. The parent at the small grave can trust that God’s love for their child is fiercer and more tender than their own.
For the full treatment, see Chapter 29.
The same principle applies. A person who has never had the cognitive capacity to understand the gospel is not held to a standard they could never meet. They cannot exercise conscious faith or make a moral choice. God knows that.
If the soul survives the body (see Chapter 6), then cognitive impairment is a limitation of the body, not of the soul. When the soul is freed from the body at death, the impairment does not follow it. The encounter with Christ meets the person as they truly are, not as their damaged brain allowed them to appear.17
The phenomenon of terminal lucidity offers striking evidence for this. Some patients with severe dementia or brain damage display sudden, unexplained clarity in the hours or moments before death. If the soul is distinct from the brain, such moments make sense. The brain’s grip loosens, and the person shines through.
For the full treatment, see Chapter 30.
Billions of people have lived and died without ever hearing the name of Jesus. Are they all lost? And if not, what was the point of sending missionaries?
This is the problem that started this whole book (see Chapter 4). The unevangelized are precisely the people the threefold offer is designed to reach.
This book does not adopt inclusivism, the view that the unevangelized can be saved by responding positively to general revelation without knowing Christ. Salvation is through personal faith in Christ. But the book argues that the offer of Christ reaches the unevangelized at the deathbed, in the conscious intermediate state, and at the final judgment. They hear the gospel clearly, for the first time, in the encounter. They are not saved by sincerity or ignorance. They are saved by meeting Jesus.18
This means the unevangelized are not a tragic gap in God’s plan. They are the reason the offer spans more than a single lifetime. A God who genuinely desires all to be saved (1 Tim 2:4) does not let geography or history dictate who gets a chance to respond.
For the full treatment, see Chapter 31. For why this does not undermine missions, see Chapter 32.
The Bible speaks of “eternal fire” (Matt 25:41) and “eternal punishment” (Matt 25:46). These sound final. What does this book do with that language?
The key question is what the word translated “eternal” actually means. The Greek word aiōnios can mean “everlasting.” But it can also mean “of the age” or “pertaining to the age to come.” It carries a quality dimension, not only a duration dimension. Scholars have debated this for centuries, and the book treats the question as genuinely open.19
More to the point, this book offers a picture of what the fire is. Drawing on the Eastern Orthodox tradition and the divine-presence model, the book argues that the lake of fire is not a torture chamber far from God. It is God’s own unveiled presence and love. The same holy fire that is warmth and glory to the willing heart is agony to the unwilling one. Fire purifies. It burns away what is false and corrupt. For those who yield, it leads to salvation. For those who finally refuse, on the conditional-immortality view, it consumes what remains.20
For the full treatment of hell and the lake of fire, see Chapters 25 and 26. For the aiōnios word study, see Chapter 27 and Appendix C.
No. Death is deeply serious, and this book never pretends otherwise.
Death is the threshold. It is the moment when the soul leaves the body and stands, for the first time, in the open presence of God without the buffer of earthly life. For many, that encounter will be shattering. The near-death literature describes dark, terrifying passages as well as radiant ones. The cry from the darkness is real (see Chapter 10).
This book does not say “don’t worry about death.” It says the opposite: death is the beginning of the most serious encounter a soul will ever face. But it also says that encounter is designed by a God who loves the soul. And the door does close. It closes at the end of the final judgment. That is a real deadline, and it gives death its gravity. The book simply argues that the deadline is later than many have been taught.
This misreads the book’s argument. The dead are not saved apart from Jesus. They are saved by Jesus, through Jesus, in a personal encounter with Jesus. No one is saved except through personal faith in Christ (John 14:6). The book does not lower that requirement. It extends the window in which the requirement can be met.21
Christ’s death and resurrection are what make the entire offer possible. Without the cross, there is no gospel to offer at the deathbed, in Hades, or at the judgment. Without the resurrection, the encounter with the living Christ could not happen. The atonement is universal in scope (see Chapter 3). The offer is personal in delivery. And both depend entirely on the fact that Jesus came, died, and rose.
If people get another chance after death, why bother living a holy life now?
Sin matters enormously, and the postmortem offer does not erase that.
The life review, widely reported in near-death accounts, presents every action and its consequences with brutal clarity. People who have had this experience describe it as the most morally searing moment of their lives. They feel not only their own pain but the pain they caused to others. Sin is not swept aside. It is exposed, fully and honestly, in the presence of a holy God.22
The point of the offer is not that sin can be ignored. The point is that sin can be forgiven. And forgiveness is only possible because Christ paid the cost. A person who receives the offer after death does not get a shortcut. They get grace. Grace that cost the Son of God His life on the cross.
Living a holy life now is not a strategy to avoid postmortem inconvenience. It is the response of a heart that has already met Christ. And a soul that has been shaped toward Christ in this life is better positioned to say yes when the final encounter comes. Holiness and hope are allies, not rivals.
For the life review and the encounter’s moral seriousness, see Chapter 13. For the final judgment as the last and most intense appeal, see Chapter 27.
Some readers come from a Reformed tradition that emphasizes God’s sovereign election. They worry that extending the offer past death makes salvation depend on the creature’s will rather than on God’s decree.
This concern deserves a fair hearing. But the book’s framework does not pit God’s sovereignty against human freedom. On the Molinist picture, God uses His middle knowledge to compose the best possible approach for each soul. He does all the saving work. He designs the encounter. He chooses the timing, the sequence, and the form that the appeal takes. This is not a picture of a passive God waiting for the creature to make up its mind. It is a picture of a God who is sovereignly, actively, and relentlessly pursuing every soul.23
Both Calvin and Molina affirm that God does all the saving work. A Reformed reader need not see optimal grace as creature-centered. It is, if anything, more radically God-centered than the view that limits God’s pursuit to one lifetime.24
For the full engagement with Reformed concerns, see Chapter 32. For the Molinist framework, see Chapter 23.
Some readers grant that the Bible does not explicitly forbid a postmortem offer. But they push back: does it ever teach one? This is a fair question, and the answer is yes, in multiple places.
The most direct text is 1 Peter 4:6. Peter writes, “For this is why the gospel was preached even to those who are dead.” The purpose was “that though judged in the flesh the way people are, they might live in the spirit the way God does” (ESV). Peter says the gospel was preached to the dead. The plain meaning is startling. It is also hard to explain away.25
First Peter 3:18–22 adds to the picture. Christ was “put to death in the flesh but made alive in the spirit.” He then went and “proclaimed to the spirits in prison.” Some limit this to a proclamation of triumph, not an offer of grace. But that reading has serious weaknesses. The word kēryssō is used elsewhere in the New Testament for gospel preaching. And Peter follows it in 4:6 with the statement that the gospel was preached to the dead. The two passages interpret each other.
Ephesians 4:8–10 describes Christ descending “into the lower regions, the earth” and leading “a host of captives” when He ascended. The early church read this as a rescue mission. The Apostles’ Creed preserves this reading: “He descended to the dead.” Every time a congregation recites the Creed, it confesses a Christ whose reach extends into the realm of death.
Beyond these texts, the logic of God’s character presses the case further. God desires all to be saved. But billions never had a genuine chance to hear. Either God’s desire fails on a massive scale, or the offer continues past the grave. The Bible does not merely permit this hope. It points toward it.
For the full exegesis of the descent texts, see Chapter 15 and Chapter 16.
Paul writes that “we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil” (2 Cor 5:10, ESV). Does the phrase “done in the body” mean that only earthly decisions count?
Look at what the verse actually says. It teaches that judgment includes what we did during our earthly lives. That is true and important. But it does not say that only earthly factors matter. To read it that way is an argument from silence. The verse tells us what judgment covers. It does not tell us what judgment excludes.26
The context also matters. Most scholars read this passage as addressing the judgment of believers. Paul uses “we,” speaking to the church at Corinth. He is urging them to live faithfully now, not building a theology of who can or cannot be saved after death. The verse has no bearing on the unevangelized or on postmortem opportunity for those who never heard.
For the treatment of this and the other “deadline” texts, see Chapter 19.
There are several reasons this teaching is unfamiliar to many Western Christians.
The Western church, especially since the Reformation, has placed enormous emphasis on the moment of personal conversion during this life. That emphasis is not wrong. It is good and important. But it has led many to assume, without examining the texts closely, that the moment of death is the absolute deadline. The assumption became a tradition, and the tradition became so strong that most people never question it.
In the Eastern Orthodox tradition, by contrast, the continued presence of God with the dead is a living part of theology and worship. The Eastern church prays for the departed. It celebrates Holy Saturday as the day Christ harrowed Hades. The idea that God’s reach extends past death is not new. It is ancient.27
The doctrine of postmortem opportunity also has roots in the broader Christian tradition. Clement of Alexandria, Origen, Gregory of Nyssa, and the whole school of purifying fire taught versions of this hope in the early centuries. The Reformers narrowed the conversation, and subsequent centuries narrowed it further. But the conversation is opening again, among serious evangelical, Catholic, and Orthodox scholars alike.
For the patristic and Orthodox background, see Chapter 16 and Appendix G.
With gentleness and honesty. This is not a fringe issue. It touches the deepest questions of God’s character, the scope of the atonement, and the destiny of the people we love.
If someone challenges you, listen. Ask them which specific concern they have. Point them to the relevant chapter. Offer to read the evidence together. The strongest response to a hard question is not a quick dismissal. It is an honest engagement.
If you are a pastor, know that this book was written to help you. The people in your pews are already asking these questions. The parent who lost a child, the widow whose husband died without faith, the teenager asking whether Grandma is in hell. They are asking because the standard answer does not satisfy, and they deserve a better one.
This book offers that better answer. Not with certainty about any individual’s fate, but with a well-grounded hope rooted in the character of God, the testimony of Scripture, and the best available theology. That hope does not replace the gospel. It proclaims it. The God who gave His Son for the world is the same God who pursues every soul to the very end.
Start with Chapter 1. For the pastoral heart of the doctrine, see Chapter 33.
If you have read this far, you may feel pulled in two directions. Part of you hopes this is true. Part of you is afraid it might not be, or afraid of what it means if it is.
This book was written for that tension. It does not ask you to abandon caution. It asks you to follow the evidence. Listen to the biblical texts with fresh ears. Consider whether the God revealed in Jesus might be more relentless in His love than you have been told. The full case is in the chapters. Start with Chapter 1, or go directly to the chapter that addresses your biggest question. Every link in this appendix takes you to the longer answer.
I wrote this book because I believe the evidence points to a God whose love does not quit at the grave. Not because I want it to be true, but because I believe it is true. And because the people sitting in the front row of that funeral deserve to hear it.
↑ 1. Beilby, Postmortem Opportunity, 108–109. Beilby notes that “there is nothing in the text whatsoever to justify” the Erickson and Nash claims that the verse seals destiny at death. He adds that if the text is an argument against any position, “it is reincarnation, not Postmortem Opportunity.”
↑ 2. Jonathan, Grace beyond the Grave, 89. Jonathan observes that the context is the once-for-all sacrifice of Christ, “not a reference to personal eschatology.”
↑ 3. Walls, Purgatory: The Logic of Total Transformation. Walls notes that the verse “does not specify exactly when after death the judgment occurs, nor whether the judgment is a preliminary one or a final one.” Since the final judgment is at the end of the world, the text is unlikely to teach that the final judgment occurs immediately after death.
↑ 4. See Luke 16:14: the Pharisees “loved money.” The parable sits within a context dominated by the use and abuse of riches (Luke 16:1–13 and 16:19–31). To read the parable as primarily a lesson in eschatology is to import a concern foreign to its context. See Beilby, Postmortem Opportunity, 110–112.
↑ 5. See Chapter 14 for the two-stage history of Hades and Chapter 15 for the descent texts.
↑ 6. Talbott, The Inescapable Love of God, 2nd ed. (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2014). Talbott observes that the parable never says the chasm will remain in place forever. The setting is well before any final judgment, and a Christian interpreter might reasonably see the chasm as pertaining to the intermediate state before the cross and resurrection.
↑ 7. See Chapter 22 for the full treatment of free refusal in God’s presence. The biblical datum of James 2:19 is significant: the demons possess clear knowledge of God’s identity and power, yet that knowledge does not produce repentance.
↑ 8. Beilby, Postmortem Opportunity, 326. Beilby draws the distinction between seeing God “truly, but not fully.” The full beatific vision is reserved for those who enter glory; the judgment provides full information without yet bestowing the beatific state that makes refusal impossible.
↑ 9. Beilby, Postmortem Opportunity, 228. Beilby offers the memorable analogy of a father asking his son to mow the lawn: the son’s confidence that his father will eventually do it himself does not relieve him of the duty to obey.
↑ 10. Jonathan, Grace beyond the Grave. Jonathan identifies five deep motivations for missions: obedience to Christ’s command, profound indebtedness to God, the love of Christ, the joy of the Lord, and the awareness of standing before the Lord to give account.
↑ 11. See Chapter 23 for the optimal-grace framework and how premortem shaping of the soul improves the prospects for a free “yes.”
↑ 12. Walls, Purgatory: The Logic of Total Transformation. Walls summarizes the traditional Catholic account and distinguishes the satisfaction model (paying debts of punishment) from the sanctification model (finishing the process of holiness). The book engages both fairly.
↑ 13. See Chapter 26 for the divine-presence picture of the lake of fire, and Chapter 32 for the Catholic-tradition engagement.
↑ 14. Walls, Purgatory. Le Goff describes purgatory as “a second chance to attain eternal life” and comments that “purgatory is hope.” Walls draws on this insight while modifying the traditional framework significantly.
↑ 15. Beilby, Postmortem Opportunity, 326. The “sees God truly, but not fully” distinction preserves genuine freedom at the judgment.
↑ 16. See Chapter 29 for the full treatment of 2 Samuel 12:23, Matthew 19:14 and related texts.
↑ 17. See Chapter 30 for the argument from substance dualism and terminal lucidity.
↑ 18. Beilby, Postmortem Opportunity. Beilby distinguishes postmortem opportunity from inclusivism: the unevangelized are not saved by general revelation or sincerity alone. They need Christ, and the postmortem offer delivers Christ. See also Chapter 4.
↑ 19. See Chapter 27 for the aiōnios word study and the Appendix C glossary entry for the full range of meaning.
↑ 20. See Chapter 26 for the divine-presence theology of the lake of fire and Appendix G for the Eastern Orthodox tradition.
↑ 21. See Chapter 12 for the Christological center of the encounter. John 14:6 (“no one comes to the Father except through me”) is fully affirmed. The book extends the when, not the who.
↑ 22. See Chapter 13 for the life review as reported in the near-death literature.
↑ 23. See Chapter 23 for the Molinist framework and optimal grace. The term middle knowledge refers to God’s knowledge of what each free creature would freely do in any circumstance. See also Appendix C.
↑ 24. Walls, Purgatory. Walls makes the point that the Molinist framework can operate in a way that is compatible with a monergistic emphasis: God does all the saving work, including the design of the circumstances in which the soul freely responds.
↑ 25. See Chapter 15 for the full exegesis of 1 Peter 3:18–22 and 4:6. The attempts to read “those who are dead” as “those who are now dead but heard the gospel while alive” strain the grammar and the context.
↑ 26. Beilby, Postmortem Opportunity. On 2 Corinthians 5:10, Beilby notes that the verse “implies only that judgment includes premortem factors and to claim that there could be no postmortem factors is an argument from silence.” See also Hronich, Once Loved, Always Loved.
↑ 27. See Appendix G for the Eastern Orthodox tradition. The Eastern church’s prayers for the departed and the harrowing-of-Hades tradition on Holy Saturday reflect a deep conviction that God’s reach extends to the dead.