WITHOUT MEASURE

WITHOUT MEASURE

[INTRO]

They said stop being morbid.

But Scripture said wake up.

They said talk about something lighter.

But hell opened its mouth without measure.

So what are we doing?

[VERSE]

Nobody talks about the room no one wants to enter, the city beneath the laughter, the silence under the feed, the population no algorithm reports, the broad road with ordinary shoes on it, school shoes, work shoes, wedding shoes, trainers, slippers, hospital socks, polished shoes for promotion, black shoes for funerals, people not living horror stories, just ordinary lives with ordinary lies, eating, scrolling, working, laughing, planning, ageing, ignoring the gate because entertainment taught the soul to look away,

and if you say hell out loud they call you morbid, as if death is rude because the lighting is bad, as if judgement is theatrical because the cinema is louder, as if warning a sleeping house about fire is negativity, as if the loving thing is to let everyone watch shows, chase wages, retire tired, forget God, bury parents, upload memories, smile at adverts and pretend the grave is only a private inconvenience,

but Isaiah saw the mouth enlarged, Sheol with appetite, pomp going down, multitudes going down, revelry going down, and Proverbs said death and destruction are never full while human eyes are never satisfied, so maybe the appetite outside us and the appetite inside us rhyme, maybe the endless scroll and the endless grave are preaching the same sermon in different languages,

we work for entertainment, entertain ourselves so we can bear the work, work again to fund the screen, screen again to numb the ache, tell ourselves the weekend is coming, the holiday is coming, the pension is coming, the golden years are coming, then watch the old sit by windows with time running past like traffic, skin folding, bones protesting, memory flickering, names dissolving, television glowing at noon like a small mechanical sun,

I have seen elderly wards where the world moves on without asking permission, poor souls parked at the edge of speed, once young, once desired, once laughing, once dancing, once angry, once proud, once planning, now swallowing tablets while the corridor smells of bleach and yesterday, and that is not “old people,” that is us with the costume removed, humanity on the time ship longer, death ship longer, showing the truth youth filters keep cropping out,

but we hide them and worship youth, then hand the youth to influencers who sell brain rot with ring lights, sell identity for clicks, sell lust as confidence, sell rage as activism, sell vanity as healing, sell distraction as culture, sell lies as content, and everybody says let them enjoy themselves, but enjoy themselves into what, into whose arms, into whose judgement, into which eternity,

the terrifying thing is not that hell is full of movie villains, the terrifying thing is that hell is full of people who looked normal, ordinary sinners who did not think sin was drastic, respectable rebels, clever rebels, tired rebels, religious rebels, entertained rebels, private rebels, decent neighbours without the blood of Christ, souls who did not feel doomed because the lights were on and dinner was warm,

that is why the Cross is so violent, because the problem was not small, the Son of God did not take flesh, sweat blood, carry wood, receive nails, bear wrath, enter death and rise bodily because humans needed mild inspiration, something drastic had happened, sin had opened the wound, death had entered history, hell was real, judgement was coming, and only the Lamb could take away the sin of the world,

so where does entertainment fit when eternity is burning at the edge of every breath, when music was made to rise like incense, when mouths were made to praise, when rhythm was meant to carry truth, when beauty was supposed to point beyond itself, when every gift should return glory to God, but we turned songs into anaesthetic and screens into sleep medication for souls on the broad road,

I am not saying never laugh, never rest, never sing, never watch, never enjoy the strange little mercies of being alive, I am saying do not let amusement become a blindfold, do not let pleasure become Pharaoh, do not let the feed become a lullaby over the mouth of hell, do not let ordinary life become an ordinary lie, do not call the warning morbid when Christ called it mercy,

because Jesus spoke more seriously than the culture allows, narrow gate, broad road, outer darkness, weeping, judgement, rich man in torment begging for a drop of water, not because He hated people, but because He loved souls enough to tear the curtain off death while there was still time to repent,

and if testimonies say the next world felt more real than earth, let Scripture judge the claim, but the instinct is not strange, because this life is vapour, grass, mist, morning breath on glass, and the unseen is not less real because screens cannot film it, the judgement seat is not cancelled because influencers never mention it, the lake of fire is not myth because comedy specials avoid it,

so wake up before retirement becomes a window, before the body becomes a room you cannot leave, before the memories turn into weather, before the feed has eaten your mornings, before the coffin makes theology urgent, before hell receives another person who was too entertained to tremble,

Christ is not offering theatre, He is offering rescue, not a slogan, not a brand, not a mood, but blood, burial, bodily resurrection, repentance, forgiveness, new birth, the narrow way, the Book of Life, the Shepherd calling sheep away from the cliff, the Son who entered death so sinners could pass from death to life,

hell has opened its mouth without measure, but mercy has opened arms on a Cross, destruction is never satisfied, but Christ cried it is finished, the broad road is crowded, but the narrow gate still stands, and while the world says relax, consume, retire, disappear, Jesus says come to Me, believe, repent, live, because entertainment cannot save you, youth cannot keep you, work cannot justify you, old age cannot hide you, and only the risen Christ can shut the mouth of death.