The following is a work of fiction, and is not presented as prophetic or revelatory.  In fact, the setting is not necessarily doctrinally accurate.  I have taken a portion of Scripture, and expanded on it fictionally to make a point.  It is my hope and prayer that the point will be obvious.

“And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.”

"He answered, 'Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my father's house, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.'” – Luke 16:26-27

You were my best friend.  We fished together.  We went to games together.  As neighbors, we were always borrowing each other’s tools.  Our children played together.  You helped me fix my car, and I helped you remodel your house.  We fished together.  And then we died together. 

ARTICLE CONTINUES BELOW

While it only happened yesterday, it seems like it’s been ages.  We were coming back from fishing, and I was teasing you for not catching anything.  We were laughing, as we usually did when we were together.  You didn’t see the drunk driver veer into our lane until the last second.  I didn’t see him at all.  Then it was over. 

I can see you now.  You’re in Heaven, seemingly without a care in the world.  I saw the tears of joy streaming down your face as you knelt before Jesus.  I saw Him place His hand on your head, and smile down at you.  I was happy for you…and then I hated you.  Do you know where I am?!  Have you asked yourself that, yet?!!  Well, I’ve called out to you many times, but you can’t hear me any more than you can see me.  I’m in a place called Hades, you selfish jerk!! 

I shouldn’t get angry at you, and I shouldn’t hate you.  But you knew!!  You knew, and you didn’t tell me!  All along, I thought I’d end up where you are.  I went to church quite a bit.  I knew on the surface that you didn’t agree with my church, but we never really discussed it.  I led a decent, moral life.  I believed in our prophets, including the last one you never recognized as a prophet.  I pretty much believed in the Bible, as well as the later scriptures.  Oh, but you didn’t believe in the later scriptures.  I did everything I knew to get to Heaven.  I went through the ceremonies, I led a moral life, I prayed, and I tried to treat everyone the way I would want to be treated.  But it wasn’t enough, was it?  No, I see that now.  I just wish you had told me.

You believed that salvation came only through faith in Jesus Christ.  I knew that because I heard about it, not because you told me.  I believed in Jesus.  I just thought there was more to it all.  It turns out you were right, and I was wrong.  What hurts is that you knew I was wrong all along, but you never said anything to me about it!!  You betrayed me, and you let me come to this God forsaken place!  Some friend you turned out to be.

I see a lot of things clearly now.  I see that Jesus Christ IS the only way to salvation.  I see that He is Lord of all, and all my efforts to earn my salvation were wasted, because I did not rely on Him.  I didn’t accept Him for who He really is.  I also see my fate.  I’ll be stuck forever in torment with the same evil one who deceived me, and who deceived the prophets of my religion.  They’re here too.  I see I’ll never escape this torment, for the rest of eternity. 

Why didn’t you tell me?  Were you afraid I wouldn’t believe you, and you’d be embarrassed?  What kind of friend would let me come to this place rather than risk embarrassment?!  Were you afraid I’d be angry with you?  I might have been, I just don’t know.  I know if I had been angry with you, it wouldn’t have lasted long.  I would have gotten over it.  But you preferred our peaceful coexistence over sharing the truth with me.  Would I have believed you?  I don’t know.  I might not have, but you would have given me something to think about.  Then again, I might have eventually come around.  We won’t know though, will we?  You never gave me that chance.  And for that, my dear old friend, I hate you with a hate I have never known before.  This place brings a certain clarity and sharpness to hate.  I loved you once, but in spite of your good show, you never loved me enough to make sure I went where you are now. 

Our wives were always as close as we were.  I imagine they’re even closer now, as they depend on each other to get through their grief.  Your wife knows the truth.  Mine does not.  I only hope your wife isn’t the coward you were.  I hope she has the guts to confront my wife with the truth.  I hope she’s willing to risk embarrassment, or my wife’s anger.  I hope she loves my wife as much as you claimed to love me.  The chasm between us is fixed.  I hope both our wives end up on that side.  It’s too late for me now.  Thanks for nothing.

Note:  Read Luke 16:19-31 for the story of the rich man and Lazarus.  Then think of those in your life who do not know Christ.  Think about which side of the fixed chasm you want them to spend eternity.  Eventually, the opportunity for second chances will run out.  As a man or woman of faith, do you also have the courage to share that faith?  Sharing the gospel with people you’re close to can be daunting, but it is truly a matter of life or death.