It wasn't until I had an ex-wife that I understood the temptation of believing in the Last Judgment. The attraction of the doctrine was in the possibility that someway somehow she would have to own up to all of her self-serving evasions, deceptions of herself and of others, and acknowledge against all of her upbringing and deepest character traits that her best intentions brought grief, pain, and despair to me. Even if I couldn't pin her down and force her to gaze at her unacknowledged self-loathing, her Jesus would -- she was brought up Polish Catholic. The doctrine promised the comfort of imagining her luxuriating in the foulness of her good intentions.
The seduction failed. Or rather perhaps I wasn't Christian enough to live in fear of just such an absolute examination of me, not that I'm narcissistic enough to believe that I am without fault. The desire for revenge seemed at once both not Christian enough, and too Christian.