God and the Old Cherokee

Me: Imagine, if you will, a Cherokee lives sixty years and dies in the year A.D. 1000. He closes his eyes in death and opens them before the God of the universe. Would the conversation go something like this?

Cherokee: Am I dead?

God: Yes.

Cherokee: Wow! This is not what I expected.

God: I'm sure.

Cherokee: So, who are you?

God: I am the Creator of all that exists.

Cherokee: Okay. So, what's next?

God: Well, I don't have any good new
s for you?

Cherokee: What do you mean?

God: You are going to Hell.

Cherokee: "Hell"? Is that bad?

God: Yes, it is a terrible place of darkness and torment.

Cherokee: Really? Why am I going there?

God: Because you did not accept my Son as your Savior.

Cherokee: "Son"? You have a son?

God: Of course! He was born from a virgin in Bethlehem in Judea. Just like the prophets foretold.

Cherokee: Wait! "Bethlehem"? Is that a town or something? And what's this about a "virgin"? "Prophets"? Who are these guys and what did they say?

God: The prophets had many things to say about the coming of my Son on earth. Later, the Apostles wrote Gospels about His miracles and ministry.

Cherokee: Hold on just a moment, now! You've totally lost me here. I've always believed there were things higher than me. My father and his father taught me about the spirits of the trees and the animals, but I've never heard any of this "Gospels" stuff before! No one ever said anything about any of that. Is that something I can tell from the trees, the stars or the moon?

God: Certainly not. Though the heavens declare my Glory and the firmament shows my handiwork, I Commissioned my people to spread the Gospel to all the world.

Cherokee: Yeah, I always did like the trees, the animals and the stars, but you're saying they aren't really gods or spirits?

God: Well, as is obvious now, all those things, all the gods and spirits your elders told you of were false. I am the one true, living God.

Cherokee: Oh, sure, I see that now, but why again am I going to this place called "Hell"? Isn't there somewhere else? Maybe somewhere better?

God: Yes, there is Heaven, but Heaven is only for those who gave their hearts and souls to me and trusted in My Son, Jesus.

Cherokee: Now, that's all well and good, but was His name written somewhere? I mean, not that I can read, but, like I said, I gazed at the stars many, many nights and have seen more moonrises and sunrises than I can remember, but I've never heard the name "Jesus" before. I know, you said I couldn't see His name in the trees or sky, but maybe you could've sent someone to tell me about Him? Did you?

God: Yes, I sent many missionaries, far and wide. Even into Europe and Africa.

Cherokee: "Europe" and where? I've never heard of those places either. How about over here? Did anyone come over here?

God: No, no one has actually carried the Gospel to your people yet, but in another five hundred years...

Cherokee: "Five hundred years"? I'll have been in this "Hell" a long time by then.

God: Yes, I suppose so.

Cherokee: So, let me get this straight: I'm going to a place of agony, to suffer and be punished, I guess, for never accepting a truth that I've never heard, about someone I've never heard of and none of my kinsmen will even hear about for centuries, because no one has warned me of this coming wrath.

God: That about sums it up.

Cherokee: Really? So, I'm condemned for neither accepting or rejecting your Son though I've never even been given the opportunity to do either? Is that right? Is that fair? Is that justice?

Me: Is it?