Did Christ really descend into hell?

Ever wonder what it means to confess in the Apostle’s Creed “he descended into hell”? This is how Reformed churches understand it, something worth meditating on as we approach Good Friday:

“Why is it added: ‘He descended into hell?’ That in my greatest temptations I may be assured that Christ my Lord, by His inexpressible anguish, pains, and terrors, which He suffered in His soul on the cross and before, has redeemed me from the anguish and torment of hell” (Heidelberg Catechism, Q&A 44).

If you would like to learn more about this line of the Apostle’s Creed and why we should continue to confess it based on God’s Word, and for our comfort, here are two great resources by Rev. Daniel Hyde.

1. A FREE article: “In Defense of the Descendit: A Confessional Response to Contemporary Critics of Christ’s Descent Into Hell”

2. An inexpensive book that is an expansion of the article with a PRACTICAL SECTION at the end: In Defense of the Descent: A Response to Contemporary Critics (ONLY $7.50!)

A Hymn for Good Friday

My Song is Love Unknown

My song is love unknown,
My Savior’s love to me;
Love to the loveless shown,
That they might lovely be.
O who am I, that for my sake
My Lord should take, frail flesh and die?

He came from His blest throne
Salvation to bestow;
But men made strange, and none
The longed for Christ would know:
But O! my Friend, my Friend indeed,
Who at my need His life did spend.

Sometimes they strew His way,
And His sweet praises sing;
Resounding all the day
Hosannas to their King:
Then “Crucify!” is all their breath,
And for His death they thirst and cry.

Why, what hath my Lord done?
What makes this rage and spite?
He made the lame to run,
He gave the blind their sight,
Sweet injuries! Yet they at these
Themselves displease, and ’gainst Him rise.

They rise and needs will have
My dear Lord made away;
A murderer they saved,
The Prince of life they slay,
Yet cheerful He to suffering goes,
That He His foes from thence might free.

In life, no house, no home
My Lord on earth might have;
In death no friendly tomb
But what a stranger gave.
What may I say? Heav’n was His home;
But mine the tomb wherein He lay.

Here might I stay and sing,
No story so divine;
Never was love, dear King!
Never was grief like Thine.
This is my Friend, in Whose sweet praise
I all my days could gladly spend.