R.C. Sproul

He's sitting there thinking, what happens if I kill myself?

He wants to know whether it is better to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or by opposing them to die.

I don't stop being when I die.

He doesn't know what's on the other side.

He's thinking that if he kills himself, it will be the end of Hamlet.

It will be the end of his existence.

But he's not sure.

He says, to sleep, to die, to sleep, huh?

To sleep, perchance to dream.

Ah, there's the rub.

For when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, you know, we don't know what's there.

He said, it makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of.

Thus,

conscience does make cowards of us all.

Hamlet said, I don't know what's over there, and I have a guilty conscience, and if I don't stop being, I may be in serious trouble.

I know this.

But 60 years ago, as recently as 60 years ago, in fact, as recently as 56 years ago, nobody in the world cared about R.C.

Sproul, at least not this R.C.

Sproul.

I cared about my grandfather, whose name was R.C.