The guide told us that inside the casket was a young man-17 years old, a high school senior-who had died in a car crash the night before. Our guide, a reedy-voiced woman with a flashlight and glow-in-the-dark sneakers, led us into a room done up like a funeral parlor-a casket on a bier, a spray of potent-smelling flowers. Inside the Judgement House, the story began with death. But by the time I left the Judgement House, I was a true, born-again zealot. To me, God was like Santa Claus-a benevolent bearded man who monitored whether I cleaned my room and made good grades. Whatever ideas I had about religion came from pop culture-Whoopi Goldberg teaching choir in nun's robes, those angels who loved baseball in "Angels in the Outfield." I believed in God, but in a general sort of way. But my parents weren't religious, and I wasn't raised in the church. I grew up in a small, predominantly evangelical community in Alabama. Yet what comes after death is far worse-unless the character chooses to accept Jesus. They die by cancer, carbon monoxide poisoning, and house fires. They die during kidnappings gone wrong, natural disasters, and home invasions. Characters die in car crashes, drug overdoses, mass shootings, and bombings. Death, in a Judgement House, is never a quiet or peaceful thing. Shortly thereafter, they die and face judgment. A character faces a crisis in their lives and receives the chance to accept Jesus as their Lord and savior. Today, there are at least 25 different trademarked Judgement House scripts, but they're all basically the same. Think "Sleep No More" meets Dante's "Inferno," as interpreted by Franklin Graham. Judgement House is an immersive church play about death, judgment and the afterlife. Instead, I arrived at an overcrowded megachurch parking lot. I pictured a gothic house on a hilltop lit by bolts of lightning, scored with spooky organ music. I had no idea what it was, but I liked how ominous it sounded. This was in 1998-the year "Titanic" won 11 Oscars and the year I spent six months trying (and failing) to hit the high note in "My Heart Will Go On." For Halloween, I was invited to go to Judgement House. When I was 11 years old, I discovered that hell was a real place and that I was going there.
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