Monday 31 August 2015
Sunday 30 August 2015
Saturday 29 August 2015
THE INCURABLE CURED
by John MacDuff
When he came down from the mountainside, large crowds followed him. A man with leprosy came and knelt before him and said, "Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean." Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. "I am willing," he said. "Be clean!" Immediately he was cured of his leprosy. (Matthew 8:1-4; Mark 1:40-45; Luke 5:12-15)
I. THE SCENE
Recent and trustworthy travelers have identified a mountain on the west side of the Gennesaret lake, with the "Mount of Beatitudes," from whose two-horned top the Savior delivered His memorable sermon. This mountain is visible from all parts of the lake, its double or "bifurcated cone" mingling in every view of the diversified landscape. A deep ravine, known as "The Valley of Doves"—connects this mountain, with the plain of Gennesaret and the shores of the inland sea. As this retired yet elevated spot was easily accessible, we may imagine the Divine Redeemer often ascending it through the narrow mountain gorge. From the flowers that carpeted the ravine, and the doves that built their nests on the branches overhead, He may have derived the imagery He employs in His sermon; when He speaks of the lilies as clothed, and the fowls of the air as ministered to by an unseen but gracious Provider.
He was in the act of returning in company with the vast multitude back towards Capernaum, when a strange and startling sight disclosed itself. What though flowers were clothing the earth, and birds singing among the branches? What though azure skies over-canopied them, and a lake which was the image of peace was sleeping in quiet loveliness at their feet? One sight and wail of human misery now borne to their ears and confronting their eyes, too sadly reminded them that sin had made this world a world of suffering—full, like the prophet's pronouncement, of "lamentation, and mourning, and woe."
A miserable being, afflicted with the most loathsome and ignominious of diseases, had been brooding in silent thought (possibly for days—possibly for weeks) as to whether he might dare venture to cast himself at the feet of the wondrous Restorer. Vain to this lonely and desolate spirit was all the beauty of that outer nature in the midst of which his existence had been spent. The curse of God was resting upon him. His brother man looked strange and alien upon him. From that ghastly countenance, rich and poor, young and old, fled frightened. What to him were the thickly-studded towns and villages which fringed that scene of busy life—he dared not so much as set foot in one of them; though born a Hebrew of the Hebrews, a child of Abraham; a sad curse severed him from the privileges of the enfranchised nation. What though he saw and heard, spring after spring, at the Passover season, joyful groups with songs on their lips going up to Jerusalem, the city of solemnities; There was no place for him among the multitude that kept holiday. Ceremonially unclean, he was by a terrible edict cut off from the congregation of the Lord. While others took sweet counsel together, and went to the house of God in company, he could only in the bitterest of captivities "weep when he remembered Zion!"
His lonesome home was either some secluded hut amid these Galilee mountains, or if he were permitted to associate with his fellows at all, it was a wretched confederacy with other lepers like himself, who, in their exile communities, only recounted to each other the dismal story of their sufferings, and gazed on faces and frames more ghastly and mutilated than their own.
But what dreams can't Hope indulge in, in life's dreariest exigencies? In such a case as the present, indeed, every vestige of such hope might well seem to have expired; not only was the disease itself inveterate, but this leper's was one of the worst types of it. Luke speaks of him as "full of leprosy." Year after year he may have watched with the horror of despair the slow, silent, insidious progress of the deteriorating disease, like an unseen vulture preying on his flesh—devouring limb by limb, member by member. He had become a loathsome and distorted shadow of what once he was. Life itself was a curse. It would have been to him a blessing to die.
But in that desolate bosom still lay some lingering sparks of hope—the last emotion of the human soul that expires. These were fanned into a faint glow by hearing of the wonders wrought by the Prophet of Galilee. A few weeks before, when the Sabbath's sun had sunk behind the western hills of the Lake; the lame, the sick, the diseased, the dying, had been borne to the Capernaum home of this greater than human Physician. The result was, that that sun rose the next morning on a healed city—disease had fled. Many an aching pillow and anguished heart had been exchanged for songs of deliverance!
Was the suggestion a strange or unnatural one which gathered strength in the bosom of this outcast Leper—"Can't this same Savior heal me? Can I alone not feel His healing touch? Can that omnipotent word not reach this horrible plague—dash the lifelong tear from this eye, and pallor from this cheek—wrench away these torn clothes which (by a severe necessity) I am doomed to wear—open these portals and thresholds I am forbidden to enter—and send me forth a free man, to set my feet within Your gates, O Jerusalem?"
All that he had seen and heard that day may have tended to strengthen his hopes and embolden his resolves. He may have been hovering with eager expectancy outside the crowd on the Mount of Beatitudes—screening himself behind the ledge of a rock or undulation of the hill—the calm silent air wafting to his ear some of the wondrous words of the Preacher! Did he listen to these opening sentences? Did they not appear as if meant for him?
"What!" he would inwardly say—"blessings and benedictions poured on the 'meek,' the 'poor,' the 'persecuted,' the 'despised!' Did not Jesus of Nazareth speak, too, in His closing sentences, as if Omnipotence slumbered in His arm? Why should I set limits to combined power and mercy? I feel assured He is able. Is He willing? I shall try it—I shall test it! Crouching at the feet of this Prophet of Mercy, if I be spurned away, it is only what the past has often taught me to endure. Yes! I, the most wretched of the wretched, will go and claim His pitying love, and throw this suffering body and suffering spirit imploringly at His feet." Thus did a ray of anxious hope dawn on the saddest bosom in all Galilee!
The time has arrived! The tramp of the multitude is heard. They are wending their way down one of the bypaths to the lakeside. In an instant the halting cripple, with head bare and clothes torn, and covering on his lip, bounds from his lurking-place. Shouting the terrible watchword, "Unclean! unclean!" to warn the crowd from his presence, he is prostrate in the dust, his face touching the garment-hem of the One only Being in the wide world from whom he has hope of cure.
It was a wondrous meeting! The two opposites of being—the extremes of humanity—met at that moment in that Gennesaret road. It was a meeting of Mercy with Despair; Omnipotence with Weakness; Sympathy with Suffering; Purity with Pollution; Life with Death! Not more striking was the contrast in nature between the bleak, sterile, torn desert hills on the east of the lake and the fertile garden-slopes on its west, than between that torn and dislocated body and soul—that terrible monument of shattered humanity—and the calm Godlike Being who gazed lovingly down on the wretch who clutched the dust with his deteriorated fingers, uttering the wild lament of hereditary despair—yet mingling this with nobler accents, "Lord, if You will, You can make me clean!"
Moment of thrilling suspense! The multitude and the disciples are panic-struck, and may probably have recoiled from the forbidden contact; they may possibly have urged the intruder to leave. ONE was there who had no such unkind of unmerciful thought. Well did JESUS know all that dreadful history! the touching story of years written in that ashen countenance! He put forth His finger—He touched the body which no unleprous hand had ever before dared to approach! The Omnipotent "I will!" sounded forth, bearing on its wings words of healing. The scales dropped from his face—the flush of health mounted to his cheek—pain fled from his aching limbs. "This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of all his troubles!"
And now we may imagine the multitude, with the restored Leper in their midst, entering the gates of Capernaum, telling to fresh crowds thronging around them of the new sermon and miracle they had just heard and witnessed. The words so full of tenderness and love—of comfort to the lowly and poor and meek; the miracle a display of power unparalleled since the days of Elisha and Naaman. What other evidence was needed that a great Prophet, indeed, had arisen in Israel? It was a twofold marvel even in that old land of miracle and prodigy—"the Lepers are cleansed, the gospel is preached to the poor!"
II. Let us now pass from the Scene, to its GREAT LESSON—the Terribleness of Sin!
We have frequent examples in the Old Testament dispensation, as well as in the course of the Savior's teaching, of outward and visible objects being taken as expositions, or types, of moral and spiritual truths. Of all these emblems, whether in the animate or inanimate world, none was more terribly impressive and significant than the disease of LEPROSY. It is not only that we discern therein some striking resemblances to SIN—the great spiritual malady—and employ the one as illustrative of the other. These resemblances or analogies were no mere accidents.
Leprosy was singled out by God Himself from the vast catalogue of human diseases and sufferings, to keep before the eyes of His people of old a perpetual memorial of the vileness and awfulness of moral evil. The outer body was made by Him a mirror of the far deeper and darker taint in the soul. It was a silent preacher in the midst of the theocratic nation and to the end of time, testifying to the virulence of a more inveterate malady—that "from the sole of the foot even to the head there is no soundness in us, but wounds and bruises and putrefying sores." Although it by no means invariably followed that the lepers of Israel were afflicted with their dire plague in consequence of personal sin, yet we know also this to have been the case in several recorded instances, such as those of Miriam, Gehazi, and Uzziah. At all events the disease was regarded by the Jews as a mark of the Divine displeasure. They spoke of it as "the finger of God." It was considered an outward and visible sign of inward disorganization, guilt, and impurity.
But more than this—it was the sign of "DEATH." The prayer of Aaron, in behalf of Miriam, was, "Let her not be as one 'dead,' of whom the flesh is half consumed." By the express injunctions contained in the Levitical law, the Leper was obligated to attire himself in the garments of death. He had to wear torn clothes, the garb which mourners were in the habit of putting on for the dead. His head was to be bare, his upper lip covered—tokens also of grief for the dead. He was to reckon himself thus a dead man. He wore these funereal trappings, as if bewailing his own dissolution—a walking sepulcher—a living corpse in a world of living men. His befitting exclamation might be, "O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from this body of death?"
A learned writer, who has described this subject in all its aspects, informs us that this idea of leprosy as an emblem of Death, not only lingered in the Middle Ages among the Jews, but was transplanted, during the Crusades, along with the disease itself, into Europe and Christendom, where "it was usual to clothe the leper in a shroud, and to say for him the masses for the dead."
The same parabolic meaning and intention may be still further traced in the rites employed on the occasion of cleansing a leper. These were precisely what were appointed for cleansing one who had been defiled by contact with a dead body—"the hyssop, the cedar-wood, and scarlet," thus not only identifying leprosy with Death, but making restoration from it an image of life from the dead—a visible sign of what is thus translated into gospel language, "He has quickened you who were dead in trespasses and in sins."
And to complete this terrible picture of the figurative and symbolic meaning of leprosy, the Leper was solemnly forbidden to enter the camp or city of God. This living impersonation of vileness and death was not allowed to stand in the temple courts, or mingle in the solemn festivals of Israel—nor was there any exemption; Miriam, the sister of Moses, and Uzziah, with his kingly crown, had both to bow calmly to the stern statute. "God is not the God of the dead, but of the living." He thus solemnly declared, by banning the ceremonially unclean from His holy camp and His holy City, that "evil cannot dwell with Him—that fools cannot stand in His presence"—that He cannot "look upon sin but with abhorrence;" not only that, by exclusion from the earthly Jerusalem courts, He would dimly shadow forth the dreadful truth, that into the courts of the heavenly Jerusalem nothing shall be admitted that "is impure, nor will anyone who does what is shameful or deceitful."
Solemn, indeed, was that journey which the Hebrew of old undertook, when, on the first appearance of the suspicious taint-spot (the possible precursor of a life of misery and shame), he hurried to God's appointed priest to submit to the testing scrutiny! If, after careful examination, the worst fears were realized—how agonizing the moment when, in exchange for his usual clothing, the torn attire of death was fastened upon him, his head shaved, his lip covered, and the mournful lament put into his mouth, with which he was, in all time to come, to warn every human footstep away, "Unclean! unclean!"
Even if there had been the dim possibility of some subsequent cure, the bitterness of that hour would have been mitigated; but, over and above all the other terrible features in the malady, was its inveteratecy. The door of hope (so far as human remedies were concerned) was closed on the hapless victim; he was left to weep tears of disconsolate despair! Unless by some special intervention of Divine power, he was a Leper to the day of his death. The grave alone would close and terminate his sufferings. The disease was incurable—ineradicable!
Have any, who read these pages, the leprosy of unforgiven and uncancelled guilt still cleaving to their souls? Mark this terrible picture of Sin—this Parable of death! You are living a life of death, "dead while you live." Mourners are going about the streets lamenting their dead. "Weep not for them, but weep for yourselves." Let the dead bury their dead! Their funeral hour, the burial rites, are soon over. But if you continue in your present state, what is Life to you, but a long funeral procession? You are bearing within you a dead soul, coffined in a dying body! Your throbbing heart, like a muffled drum, beating "funeral marches to the grave!"
Think of this, you who are content to live on in your natural condition, unwashed, unjustified, unsanctified. LIFE—the only thing worth calling life—the life of God in the soul—extinct! "Sin, when it is finished, brings forth death." Saddest of all, you stand, like the Leper, self-excluded and self-exiled from fellowship with God—an isolated being, excluded from sympathy and association with all that is holy and happy in the universe. It is bad enough when a man is avoided by his fellows—when, like another Cain, a brand is set upon his brow, and he has to flee society, to shrink in cowering shame from its glance. But what is that, compared to the fearful position of being exiled and outcast from God and angels—from heaven and holiness—from peace and love—to be unbefriended by that Great Being, whose smile is happiness, whose glance of unutterable wrath is worse than death!
Oh, when I wish a picture of the terribleness of sin—when I seek in old Palestine—that land of type and parable—for some dreadful symbol or memento of God's abhorrence of guilt—I may see it in the fig-tree on the road to Bethphage, scarred and blighted, with its coiled leaves and blasted stem; I may see it in the terrible desolation reigning on the Dead Sea shores (the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah); I may hear it in the roll of its briny waves, as they fret and murmur on the cheerless beach, telling the endless story of submerged cities and of retributive vengeance. But, more terrible and impressive still, when I stand on one of the byways of Galilee, and listen to a parable spoken by that wretched outcast, with his squalid tatters and uncovered head, shut out from the cheerful light of other homes, doomed to listen to no music but the sad wail of tortured bodies and broken spirits like his own—standing afar off from the camp of God, friends and relatives shrinking back at his approach, the trappings and memorials of death, indicating that the King of Terrors has already set his foot upon him, and claimed him as his prey! Terrible emblem surely, of that chasm of separation which yawns, unbridged, between God and the sinner! Infinite Purity hiding His face from infinite guilt!—disowning the very being He made once after His own image, because he has disowned Him—leaving him to the tyranny of his own sins, consigning him, because he has consigned himself, to the terrors of the first and second death in one!
And add to all, that this sin of yours is incurable by human hand or human skill, as the leprosy of old laughed to scorn the power and skill and art of man. God alone, by a special act of mercy, could arrest the malady! When Naaman came to the king of Israel to demand a cure, the reply of the monarch indicated who alone had power to grant his request, "Am I God, to kill and bring back to life? Why does this fellow send someone to me to be cured of his leprosy?" It is the same with sin—it is incurable by earthly agency. An ocean of tears cannot cleanse it; human virtues and merits and penances cannot eradicate its deep, dark blot. Man or angel, beast of the earth, creeping thing or flying fowl, "the cattle on a thousand hills, and ten thousand rivers of oil"—all would be of no avail to purchase freedom from the polluting taint. No hand but One can be stretched forth to save; no voice but One can bid the terrible scourge away! "Lord, be merciful to me; heal my soul, for I have sinned against You."
Ah, if the leprosy-spot of sin be washed from our souls, the sentence of death recorded within us be obliterated, the new life, the Life of God, begun in our hearts, this shall be our befitting confession—"YOU have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, and my feet from falling. I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living." "The living, even the living, he shall praise YOU, as I do this day!"
Before we leave this memory of Tiberias, let us ponder, for our own spiritual profit and encouragement, two features here specially noticeable in the conduct of the poor outcast who cast himself at his Lord's feet.
I. Mark his PRAYER—"Lord!" Prayer arrests the ear of God. The lispings of this castaway are heard by the Helper of all the helpless. Though wearied and exhausted with uttering a lengthy sermon, and though eager multitudes are thronging around Him, one voice, and that of the most wretched of Galileans, stops the footsteps of Jesus, draws a tear to His eye, and words of mercy from His lips!
Reader, learn the Power of Prayer. Christ's hand is never shortened, His ear is never heavy. He is no longer, indeed, personally near, as He was at Gennesaret; we cannot, as the Leper did, gaze on His countenance and bathe His feet with our tears; but faith can make the Mount of Beatitudes and the mount of Heaven equally near. Science is in these our days completing her vastest prodigy, by bringing the Old and the New World within whispering distance, defying three thousand miles of ocean to arrest the secret in its transit. But mightier far is the agency spoken of here. Prayer, swift as the electric current or volleyed lightning, enters the ear of the God of Sabaoth. The message sent to Heaven is heard while we are yet speaking, and comes back loaded with blessings of peace and love and mercy.
Love prayer—love to frequent the Mount of Beatitudes, the Mount of Blessings. Make the most, too, of the opportunities for prayer while you have the means. If the Leper had allowed Jesus to now pass by, unapproached and unsolicited, he might never again have found Him traveling that way. If the cry of prayer had not now been uttered, he might have been doomed to return to his wretched home, to languish out the dregs of existence in hopeless despair. "Seek the Lord while He may be found, call upon Him while He is near."
The time of Sickness is such a pathway where Jesus may be met; the hour of Bereavement is such a meeting-place with Jesus; the House of prayer is one of the pathways the Savior loves to frequent. Sabbath after Sabbath Jesus comes down from his Mount of Beatitudes, scattering blessings as He passes. Remember each Sabbath may be His last—His concluding journey—the last time you can cast yourself at His feet and implore His mercy. He loved the mount of Prayer Himself. He often wandered up that very ravine, to alone make the "mountain" His oratory. Be it so with you; delight often to follow His steps, ascending the hill of the Lord, saying, "I will get to the mountain of myrrh, and the hill of frankincense!"
II. Mark the Leper's FAITH, "If You will, You can!" He believed (and it is all the sinner needs to feel in casting at his Savior's feet), Jesus' ability to effect Cure—"You Can!" He was convinced that the omnipotent Prophet of Galilee had only to utter the word, and the pangs of a dreary and dismal life would cease forever!
"Human power," he seems to say, "and human skill are of no help to me; I have tried every variety of human cure, I have applied every balsam; I have sought, like Naaman, the waters of Israel, I have plunged again and again in Jordan's healing streams, but all in vain; still 'the whole head is sick, the whole heart is faint.' Jesus of Nazareth! I come to You, believing that Your word is mightier than all the waters of Syria or Israel. There is a Physician before me who is better than the balm of Gilead. Oh, You who can bind up the broken-hearted, and proclaim liberty to the captives, give me 'beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning!' Lord, save me! else I perish!"
It is enough—"Jesus put forth His hand and touched him, saying, I will, be clean, and immediately his leprosy departed from him."
One point remains still to be noticed. Jesus enjoined him to "go immediately and show himself to the priest, offering the gift that Moses commanded." What meant this closing injunction?
We find, on reference to the Jewish law, that after the restored leper had satisfied the priest of an effectual cure having been wrought, this minister of God was appointed to take two birds. The one was to be killed, and its blood poured into an earthen vessel filled with running water; the other, tied with a scarlet thread and bunch of hyssop to a stick of cedar, was to be dipped into the earthen pitcher containing the mingled blood and water. With this the leper was sprinkled seven times, and then the living bird was set free to join its mates—a significant emblem or symbol that the leper was now at liberty to resume that interaction with his fellows, which, on account of his disease, had been long suspended.
Who can fail, in all this, to see a far deeper and more touching significance? That bleeding bird, slain by the officiating priest, was a striking type and emblem of a nobler Sacrifice—blood of a nobler Victim, shed to wash out a moral taint, of which the leprosy (terrible as it was) was but a feeble shadow. Who can fail to have suggested (in the mingled contents of that earthen vessel) the recollection of the spear of old which pierced the side of the Innocent One, and from which flowed out a running stream of "blood and water?"
But what of the other bird, bound with its mysterious hyssop-bunch, and tied with red scarlet thread, and which was immersed in the crimson flood? We cannot mistake it. Here, surely, is the type of the SINNER wearing the bonds and fastenings of the everlasting covenant, plunged in the Fountain of blood—that fountain "opened for sin and for uncleanness." Lo! he is free. That bird of old, fluttering and struggling in terror, flew away from the scene of death! With joyous wing it soared with its fellows up in the blue heavens, or perched with them on its native branches in the nearest thicket!
Beautiful emblem of the Sinner! "The Son has made him free, and he is free indeed." The blood and water have effected "the double cure:" the one justifies, the other sanctifies—the one delivers him from the guilt, the other from the pollution of sin. And now behold that once terrified spirit, with wings soiled and plumage ruffled, soaring upwards and onwards on the pinions of faith, and hope, and gospel freedom, singing up to heaven's gate its untiring song, 'Unto Him who loved me and washed me from my sins in His own blood, to Him be glory and praise forever and ever!"
Yes; "to Him that washed me." There was the special tune in that wondrous type: the bird—the live bird—dipped in the blood of his fellow! It was not a bird dipped in the blood of lamb or goat, but in the blood of one of its own mates—one that had been nurtured, it may be, in the nest, or that had perched and sung with it on the same bough!
Precious truth—Jesus our Fellow-Man! The blood in which our souls are washed is the blood not of incarnate Archangel or incarnate Seraph, but blood that flowed from a human side and human veins—from the Brother and the Friend of the race, the MAN Christ Jesus.
The fellows of the Leper of old, his very friends and acquaintances, fled from him. Not so our Fellow-Man, our Brother on the Throne. He "commended His love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners (lepers) He died for us." Are we ushered into this glorious liberty with which Christ makes His people free? Sprinkled with the twofold emblem of blood and water, are we spreading our wings, the wings of faith and prayer, heavenwards, singing the new song, "We are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow-citizens with the saints and of the household of God?" Beware of defiling yourselves with the leprous taint of Sin. It is contaminating—infectious. Its tendency is to spread; it will eat into the vital principle. If permitted, it will destroy the life of God in the soul.
Keep near the atoning Fountain; be ever traveling to your "Fellow's blood." The scarlet thread, the mark and badge of covenant mercy, has been put upon you; "Stand fast, therefore, in the liberty with which Christ has made you free."
If there be one Reader of these pages who feels that, by reason of sin (it may be some recent plague-spot), he is a spiritual Leper—some deep, dark blot defiling the conscience, the sense of pardon obscured, the Divine face hidden—standing thereby excluded from the camp of God; go immediately to the running stream—the perennial Fountain with its crimson tide—adopt as your own, the prayer of a sin-stricken penitent, who had the leper and his cure in view when he uttered it—"Purge me with hyssop and I shall be clean; yes, wash me, and I shall be whiter than the snow. Make me to hear joy and gladness, that the bones which You have broken may rejoice."
When he came down from the mountainside, large crowds followed him. A man with leprosy came and knelt before him and said, "Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean." Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. "I am willing," he said. "Be clean!" Immediately he was cured of his leprosy. (Matthew 8:1-4; Mark 1:40-45; Luke 5:12-15)
I. THE SCENE
Recent and trustworthy travelers have identified a mountain on the west side of the Gennesaret lake, with the "Mount of Beatitudes," from whose two-horned top the Savior delivered His memorable sermon. This mountain is visible from all parts of the lake, its double or "bifurcated cone" mingling in every view of the diversified landscape. A deep ravine, known as "The Valley of Doves"—connects this mountain, with the plain of Gennesaret and the shores of the inland sea. As this retired yet elevated spot was easily accessible, we may imagine the Divine Redeemer often ascending it through the narrow mountain gorge. From the flowers that carpeted the ravine, and the doves that built their nests on the branches overhead, He may have derived the imagery He employs in His sermon; when He speaks of the lilies as clothed, and the fowls of the air as ministered to by an unseen but gracious Provider.
He was in the act of returning in company with the vast multitude back towards Capernaum, when a strange and startling sight disclosed itself. What though flowers were clothing the earth, and birds singing among the branches? What though azure skies over-canopied them, and a lake which was the image of peace was sleeping in quiet loveliness at their feet? One sight and wail of human misery now borne to their ears and confronting their eyes, too sadly reminded them that sin had made this world a world of suffering—full, like the prophet's pronouncement, of "lamentation, and mourning, and woe."
A miserable being, afflicted with the most loathsome and ignominious of diseases, had been brooding in silent thought (possibly for days—possibly for weeks) as to whether he might dare venture to cast himself at the feet of the wondrous Restorer. Vain to this lonely and desolate spirit was all the beauty of that outer nature in the midst of which his existence had been spent. The curse of God was resting upon him. His brother man looked strange and alien upon him. From that ghastly countenance, rich and poor, young and old, fled frightened. What to him were the thickly-studded towns and villages which fringed that scene of busy life—he dared not so much as set foot in one of them; though born a Hebrew of the Hebrews, a child of Abraham; a sad curse severed him from the privileges of the enfranchised nation. What though he saw and heard, spring after spring, at the Passover season, joyful groups with songs on their lips going up to Jerusalem, the city of solemnities; There was no place for him among the multitude that kept holiday. Ceremonially unclean, he was by a terrible edict cut off from the congregation of the Lord. While others took sweet counsel together, and went to the house of God in company, he could only in the bitterest of captivities "weep when he remembered Zion!"
His lonesome home was either some secluded hut amid these Galilee mountains, or if he were permitted to associate with his fellows at all, it was a wretched confederacy with other lepers like himself, who, in their exile communities, only recounted to each other the dismal story of their sufferings, and gazed on faces and frames more ghastly and mutilated than their own.
But what dreams can't Hope indulge in, in life's dreariest exigencies? In such a case as the present, indeed, every vestige of such hope might well seem to have expired; not only was the disease itself inveterate, but this leper's was one of the worst types of it. Luke speaks of him as "full of leprosy." Year after year he may have watched with the horror of despair the slow, silent, insidious progress of the deteriorating disease, like an unseen vulture preying on his flesh—devouring limb by limb, member by member. He had become a loathsome and distorted shadow of what once he was. Life itself was a curse. It would have been to him a blessing to die.
But in that desolate bosom still lay some lingering sparks of hope—the last emotion of the human soul that expires. These were fanned into a faint glow by hearing of the wonders wrought by the Prophet of Galilee. A few weeks before, when the Sabbath's sun had sunk behind the western hills of the Lake; the lame, the sick, the diseased, the dying, had been borne to the Capernaum home of this greater than human Physician. The result was, that that sun rose the next morning on a healed city—disease had fled. Many an aching pillow and anguished heart had been exchanged for songs of deliverance!
Was the suggestion a strange or unnatural one which gathered strength in the bosom of this outcast Leper—"Can't this same Savior heal me? Can I alone not feel His healing touch? Can that omnipotent word not reach this horrible plague—dash the lifelong tear from this eye, and pallor from this cheek—wrench away these torn clothes which (by a severe necessity) I am doomed to wear—open these portals and thresholds I am forbidden to enter—and send me forth a free man, to set my feet within Your gates, O Jerusalem?"
All that he had seen and heard that day may have tended to strengthen his hopes and embolden his resolves. He may have been hovering with eager expectancy outside the crowd on the Mount of Beatitudes—screening himself behind the ledge of a rock or undulation of the hill—the calm silent air wafting to his ear some of the wondrous words of the Preacher! Did he listen to these opening sentences? Did they not appear as if meant for him?
"What!" he would inwardly say—"blessings and benedictions poured on the 'meek,' the 'poor,' the 'persecuted,' the 'despised!' Did not Jesus of Nazareth speak, too, in His closing sentences, as if Omnipotence slumbered in His arm? Why should I set limits to combined power and mercy? I feel assured He is able. Is He willing? I shall try it—I shall test it! Crouching at the feet of this Prophet of Mercy, if I be spurned away, it is only what the past has often taught me to endure. Yes! I, the most wretched of the wretched, will go and claim His pitying love, and throw this suffering body and suffering spirit imploringly at His feet." Thus did a ray of anxious hope dawn on the saddest bosom in all Galilee!
The time has arrived! The tramp of the multitude is heard. They are wending their way down one of the bypaths to the lakeside. In an instant the halting cripple, with head bare and clothes torn, and covering on his lip, bounds from his lurking-place. Shouting the terrible watchword, "Unclean! unclean!" to warn the crowd from his presence, he is prostrate in the dust, his face touching the garment-hem of the One only Being in the wide world from whom he has hope of cure.
It was a wondrous meeting! The two opposites of being—the extremes of humanity—met at that moment in that Gennesaret road. It was a meeting of Mercy with Despair; Omnipotence with Weakness; Sympathy with Suffering; Purity with Pollution; Life with Death! Not more striking was the contrast in nature between the bleak, sterile, torn desert hills on the east of the lake and the fertile garden-slopes on its west, than between that torn and dislocated body and soul—that terrible monument of shattered humanity—and the calm Godlike Being who gazed lovingly down on the wretch who clutched the dust with his deteriorated fingers, uttering the wild lament of hereditary despair—yet mingling this with nobler accents, "Lord, if You will, You can make me clean!"
Moment of thrilling suspense! The multitude and the disciples are panic-struck, and may probably have recoiled from the forbidden contact; they may possibly have urged the intruder to leave. ONE was there who had no such unkind of unmerciful thought. Well did JESUS know all that dreadful history! the touching story of years written in that ashen countenance! He put forth His finger—He touched the body which no unleprous hand had ever before dared to approach! The Omnipotent "I will!" sounded forth, bearing on its wings words of healing. The scales dropped from his face—the flush of health mounted to his cheek—pain fled from his aching limbs. "This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of all his troubles!"
And now we may imagine the multitude, with the restored Leper in their midst, entering the gates of Capernaum, telling to fresh crowds thronging around them of the new sermon and miracle they had just heard and witnessed. The words so full of tenderness and love—of comfort to the lowly and poor and meek; the miracle a display of power unparalleled since the days of Elisha and Naaman. What other evidence was needed that a great Prophet, indeed, had arisen in Israel? It was a twofold marvel even in that old land of miracle and prodigy—"the Lepers are cleansed, the gospel is preached to the poor!"
II. Let us now pass from the Scene, to its GREAT LESSON—the Terribleness of Sin!
We have frequent examples in the Old Testament dispensation, as well as in the course of the Savior's teaching, of outward and visible objects being taken as expositions, or types, of moral and spiritual truths. Of all these emblems, whether in the animate or inanimate world, none was more terribly impressive and significant than the disease of LEPROSY. It is not only that we discern therein some striking resemblances to SIN—the great spiritual malady—and employ the one as illustrative of the other. These resemblances or analogies were no mere accidents.
Leprosy was singled out by God Himself from the vast catalogue of human diseases and sufferings, to keep before the eyes of His people of old a perpetual memorial of the vileness and awfulness of moral evil. The outer body was made by Him a mirror of the far deeper and darker taint in the soul. It was a silent preacher in the midst of the theocratic nation and to the end of time, testifying to the virulence of a more inveterate malady—that "from the sole of the foot even to the head there is no soundness in us, but wounds and bruises and putrefying sores." Although it by no means invariably followed that the lepers of Israel were afflicted with their dire plague in consequence of personal sin, yet we know also this to have been the case in several recorded instances, such as those of Miriam, Gehazi, and Uzziah. At all events the disease was regarded by the Jews as a mark of the Divine displeasure. They spoke of it as "the finger of God." It was considered an outward and visible sign of inward disorganization, guilt, and impurity.
But more than this—it was the sign of "DEATH." The prayer of Aaron, in behalf of Miriam, was, "Let her not be as one 'dead,' of whom the flesh is half consumed." By the express injunctions contained in the Levitical law, the Leper was obligated to attire himself in the garments of death. He had to wear torn clothes, the garb which mourners were in the habit of putting on for the dead. His head was to be bare, his upper lip covered—tokens also of grief for the dead. He was to reckon himself thus a dead man. He wore these funereal trappings, as if bewailing his own dissolution—a walking sepulcher—a living corpse in a world of living men. His befitting exclamation might be, "O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from this body of death?"
A learned writer, who has described this subject in all its aspects, informs us that this idea of leprosy as an emblem of Death, not only lingered in the Middle Ages among the Jews, but was transplanted, during the Crusades, along with the disease itself, into Europe and Christendom, where "it was usual to clothe the leper in a shroud, and to say for him the masses for the dead."
The same parabolic meaning and intention may be still further traced in the rites employed on the occasion of cleansing a leper. These were precisely what were appointed for cleansing one who had been defiled by contact with a dead body—"the hyssop, the cedar-wood, and scarlet," thus not only identifying leprosy with Death, but making restoration from it an image of life from the dead—a visible sign of what is thus translated into gospel language, "He has quickened you who were dead in trespasses and in sins."
And to complete this terrible picture of the figurative and symbolic meaning of leprosy, the Leper was solemnly forbidden to enter the camp or city of God. This living impersonation of vileness and death was not allowed to stand in the temple courts, or mingle in the solemn festivals of Israel—nor was there any exemption; Miriam, the sister of Moses, and Uzziah, with his kingly crown, had both to bow calmly to the stern statute. "God is not the God of the dead, but of the living." He thus solemnly declared, by banning the ceremonially unclean from His holy camp and His holy City, that "evil cannot dwell with Him—that fools cannot stand in His presence"—that He cannot "look upon sin but with abhorrence;" not only that, by exclusion from the earthly Jerusalem courts, He would dimly shadow forth the dreadful truth, that into the courts of the heavenly Jerusalem nothing shall be admitted that "is impure, nor will anyone who does what is shameful or deceitful."
Solemn, indeed, was that journey which the Hebrew of old undertook, when, on the first appearance of the suspicious taint-spot (the possible precursor of a life of misery and shame), he hurried to God's appointed priest to submit to the testing scrutiny! If, after careful examination, the worst fears were realized—how agonizing the moment when, in exchange for his usual clothing, the torn attire of death was fastened upon him, his head shaved, his lip covered, and the mournful lament put into his mouth, with which he was, in all time to come, to warn every human footstep away, "Unclean! unclean!"
Even if there had been the dim possibility of some subsequent cure, the bitterness of that hour would have been mitigated; but, over and above all the other terrible features in the malady, was its inveteratecy. The door of hope (so far as human remedies were concerned) was closed on the hapless victim; he was left to weep tears of disconsolate despair! Unless by some special intervention of Divine power, he was a Leper to the day of his death. The grave alone would close and terminate his sufferings. The disease was incurable—ineradicable!
Have any, who read these pages, the leprosy of unforgiven and uncancelled guilt still cleaving to their souls? Mark this terrible picture of Sin—this Parable of death! You are living a life of death, "dead while you live." Mourners are going about the streets lamenting their dead. "Weep not for them, but weep for yourselves." Let the dead bury their dead! Their funeral hour, the burial rites, are soon over. But if you continue in your present state, what is Life to you, but a long funeral procession? You are bearing within you a dead soul, coffined in a dying body! Your throbbing heart, like a muffled drum, beating "funeral marches to the grave!"
Think of this, you who are content to live on in your natural condition, unwashed, unjustified, unsanctified. LIFE—the only thing worth calling life—the life of God in the soul—extinct! "Sin, when it is finished, brings forth death." Saddest of all, you stand, like the Leper, self-excluded and self-exiled from fellowship with God—an isolated being, excluded from sympathy and association with all that is holy and happy in the universe. It is bad enough when a man is avoided by his fellows—when, like another Cain, a brand is set upon his brow, and he has to flee society, to shrink in cowering shame from its glance. But what is that, compared to the fearful position of being exiled and outcast from God and angels—from heaven and holiness—from peace and love—to be unbefriended by that Great Being, whose smile is happiness, whose glance of unutterable wrath is worse than death!
Oh, when I wish a picture of the terribleness of sin—when I seek in old Palestine—that land of type and parable—for some dreadful symbol or memento of God's abhorrence of guilt—I may see it in the fig-tree on the road to Bethphage, scarred and blighted, with its coiled leaves and blasted stem; I may see it in the terrible desolation reigning on the Dead Sea shores (the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah); I may hear it in the roll of its briny waves, as they fret and murmur on the cheerless beach, telling the endless story of submerged cities and of retributive vengeance. But, more terrible and impressive still, when I stand on one of the byways of Galilee, and listen to a parable spoken by that wretched outcast, with his squalid tatters and uncovered head, shut out from the cheerful light of other homes, doomed to listen to no music but the sad wail of tortured bodies and broken spirits like his own—standing afar off from the camp of God, friends and relatives shrinking back at his approach, the trappings and memorials of death, indicating that the King of Terrors has already set his foot upon him, and claimed him as his prey! Terrible emblem surely, of that chasm of separation which yawns, unbridged, between God and the sinner! Infinite Purity hiding His face from infinite guilt!—disowning the very being He made once after His own image, because he has disowned Him—leaving him to the tyranny of his own sins, consigning him, because he has consigned himself, to the terrors of the first and second death in one!
And add to all, that this sin of yours is incurable by human hand or human skill, as the leprosy of old laughed to scorn the power and skill and art of man. God alone, by a special act of mercy, could arrest the malady! When Naaman came to the king of Israel to demand a cure, the reply of the monarch indicated who alone had power to grant his request, "Am I God, to kill and bring back to life? Why does this fellow send someone to me to be cured of his leprosy?" It is the same with sin—it is incurable by earthly agency. An ocean of tears cannot cleanse it; human virtues and merits and penances cannot eradicate its deep, dark blot. Man or angel, beast of the earth, creeping thing or flying fowl, "the cattle on a thousand hills, and ten thousand rivers of oil"—all would be of no avail to purchase freedom from the polluting taint. No hand but One can be stretched forth to save; no voice but One can bid the terrible scourge away! "Lord, be merciful to me; heal my soul, for I have sinned against You."
Ah, if the leprosy-spot of sin be washed from our souls, the sentence of death recorded within us be obliterated, the new life, the Life of God, begun in our hearts, this shall be our befitting confession—"YOU have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, and my feet from falling. I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living." "The living, even the living, he shall praise YOU, as I do this day!"
Before we leave this memory of Tiberias, let us ponder, for our own spiritual profit and encouragement, two features here specially noticeable in the conduct of the poor outcast who cast himself at his Lord's feet.
I. Mark his PRAYER—"Lord!" Prayer arrests the ear of God. The lispings of this castaway are heard by the Helper of all the helpless. Though wearied and exhausted with uttering a lengthy sermon, and though eager multitudes are thronging around Him, one voice, and that of the most wretched of Galileans, stops the footsteps of Jesus, draws a tear to His eye, and words of mercy from His lips!
Reader, learn the Power of Prayer. Christ's hand is never shortened, His ear is never heavy. He is no longer, indeed, personally near, as He was at Gennesaret; we cannot, as the Leper did, gaze on His countenance and bathe His feet with our tears; but faith can make the Mount of Beatitudes and the mount of Heaven equally near. Science is in these our days completing her vastest prodigy, by bringing the Old and the New World within whispering distance, defying three thousand miles of ocean to arrest the secret in its transit. But mightier far is the agency spoken of here. Prayer, swift as the electric current or volleyed lightning, enters the ear of the God of Sabaoth. The message sent to Heaven is heard while we are yet speaking, and comes back loaded with blessings of peace and love and mercy.
Love prayer—love to frequent the Mount of Beatitudes, the Mount of Blessings. Make the most, too, of the opportunities for prayer while you have the means. If the Leper had allowed Jesus to now pass by, unapproached and unsolicited, he might never again have found Him traveling that way. If the cry of prayer had not now been uttered, he might have been doomed to return to his wretched home, to languish out the dregs of existence in hopeless despair. "Seek the Lord while He may be found, call upon Him while He is near."
The time of Sickness is such a pathway where Jesus may be met; the hour of Bereavement is such a meeting-place with Jesus; the House of prayer is one of the pathways the Savior loves to frequent. Sabbath after Sabbath Jesus comes down from his Mount of Beatitudes, scattering blessings as He passes. Remember each Sabbath may be His last—His concluding journey—the last time you can cast yourself at His feet and implore His mercy. He loved the mount of Prayer Himself. He often wandered up that very ravine, to alone make the "mountain" His oratory. Be it so with you; delight often to follow His steps, ascending the hill of the Lord, saying, "I will get to the mountain of myrrh, and the hill of frankincense!"
II. Mark the Leper's FAITH, "If You will, You can!" He believed (and it is all the sinner needs to feel in casting at his Savior's feet), Jesus' ability to effect Cure—"You Can!" He was convinced that the omnipotent Prophet of Galilee had only to utter the word, and the pangs of a dreary and dismal life would cease forever!
"Human power," he seems to say, "and human skill are of no help to me; I have tried every variety of human cure, I have applied every balsam; I have sought, like Naaman, the waters of Israel, I have plunged again and again in Jordan's healing streams, but all in vain; still 'the whole head is sick, the whole heart is faint.' Jesus of Nazareth! I come to You, believing that Your word is mightier than all the waters of Syria or Israel. There is a Physician before me who is better than the balm of Gilead. Oh, You who can bind up the broken-hearted, and proclaim liberty to the captives, give me 'beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning!' Lord, save me! else I perish!"
It is enough—"Jesus put forth His hand and touched him, saying, I will, be clean, and immediately his leprosy departed from him."
One point remains still to be noticed. Jesus enjoined him to "go immediately and show himself to the priest, offering the gift that Moses commanded." What meant this closing injunction?
We find, on reference to the Jewish law, that after the restored leper had satisfied the priest of an effectual cure having been wrought, this minister of God was appointed to take two birds. The one was to be killed, and its blood poured into an earthen vessel filled with running water; the other, tied with a scarlet thread and bunch of hyssop to a stick of cedar, was to be dipped into the earthen pitcher containing the mingled blood and water. With this the leper was sprinkled seven times, and then the living bird was set free to join its mates—a significant emblem or symbol that the leper was now at liberty to resume that interaction with his fellows, which, on account of his disease, had been long suspended.
Who can fail, in all this, to see a far deeper and more touching significance? That bleeding bird, slain by the officiating priest, was a striking type and emblem of a nobler Sacrifice—blood of a nobler Victim, shed to wash out a moral taint, of which the leprosy (terrible as it was) was but a feeble shadow. Who can fail to have suggested (in the mingled contents of that earthen vessel) the recollection of the spear of old which pierced the side of the Innocent One, and from which flowed out a running stream of "blood and water?"
But what of the other bird, bound with its mysterious hyssop-bunch, and tied with red scarlet thread, and which was immersed in the crimson flood? We cannot mistake it. Here, surely, is the type of the SINNER wearing the bonds and fastenings of the everlasting covenant, plunged in the Fountain of blood—that fountain "opened for sin and for uncleanness." Lo! he is free. That bird of old, fluttering and struggling in terror, flew away from the scene of death! With joyous wing it soared with its fellows up in the blue heavens, or perched with them on its native branches in the nearest thicket!
Beautiful emblem of the Sinner! "The Son has made him free, and he is free indeed." The blood and water have effected "the double cure:" the one justifies, the other sanctifies—the one delivers him from the guilt, the other from the pollution of sin. And now behold that once terrified spirit, with wings soiled and plumage ruffled, soaring upwards and onwards on the pinions of faith, and hope, and gospel freedom, singing up to heaven's gate its untiring song, 'Unto Him who loved me and washed me from my sins in His own blood, to Him be glory and praise forever and ever!"
Yes; "to Him that washed me." There was the special tune in that wondrous type: the bird—the live bird—dipped in the blood of his fellow! It was not a bird dipped in the blood of lamb or goat, but in the blood of one of its own mates—one that had been nurtured, it may be, in the nest, or that had perched and sung with it on the same bough!
Precious truth—Jesus our Fellow-Man! The blood in which our souls are washed is the blood not of incarnate Archangel or incarnate Seraph, but blood that flowed from a human side and human veins—from the Brother and the Friend of the race, the MAN Christ Jesus.
The fellows of the Leper of old, his very friends and acquaintances, fled from him. Not so our Fellow-Man, our Brother on the Throne. He "commended His love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners (lepers) He died for us." Are we ushered into this glorious liberty with which Christ makes His people free? Sprinkled with the twofold emblem of blood and water, are we spreading our wings, the wings of faith and prayer, heavenwards, singing the new song, "We are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow-citizens with the saints and of the household of God?" Beware of defiling yourselves with the leprous taint of Sin. It is contaminating—infectious. Its tendency is to spread; it will eat into the vital principle. If permitted, it will destroy the life of God in the soul.
Keep near the atoning Fountain; be ever traveling to your "Fellow's blood." The scarlet thread, the mark and badge of covenant mercy, has been put upon you; "Stand fast, therefore, in the liberty with which Christ has made you free."
If there be one Reader of these pages who feels that, by reason of sin (it may be some recent plague-spot), he is a spiritual Leper—some deep, dark blot defiling the conscience, the sense of pardon obscured, the Divine face hidden—standing thereby excluded from the camp of God; go immediately to the running stream—the perennial Fountain with its crimson tide—adopt as your own, the prayer of a sin-stricken penitent, who had the leper and his cure in view when he uttered it—"Purge me with hyssop and I shall be clean; yes, wash me, and I shall be whiter than the snow. Make me to hear joy and gladness, that the bones which You have broken may rejoice."
THE IMPORTANCE OF SALVATION
by Archibald Alexander
In comparison with salvation, all other subjects are trivial. To waste time in the pursuit of wealth, or in the chase of sensual pleasure, while our salvation is not secure, is more than folly—it is madness. What, would you agree to dwell in the dark dungeon of despair forever and ever, for the sake of living a few years upon earth in a sumptuous house? Would you consent to endure the sting of the never-dying worm, and the torment of unquenchable fire, to all eternity, for the sake of gratifying your appetites and senses for a moment? No man would deliberately make such a determination; yet such is the language which many speak by their conduct. The world is pursued daily, at the risk of eternal damnation.
The resolution of attending to the concerns of the soul at a later time, answers no other purpose than to lull the conscience asleep. Where have we known a person, by virtue of these flattering resolutions, change his conduct? The next day is like the one that preceded it. Every succeeding year passes by, like those that went before. No convenient time for repentance and reformation ever comes. Youth soon runs out in the giddy circle of pleasure and amusement. Middle age is completely occupied with cares and business; and old age, if it ever arrives, finds the heart hardened, the habits fixed, and the conscience seared. Death overtakes the unfortunate wretch. He dies as he lived, either goaded by guilt, or benumbed with stupidity. He dies, and sinks to hell, where there are no amusements to entertain, no business to engage, no error to becloud the mind. To fall into the hands of the living God, as an avenging Judge, is dreadful beyond conception! To be eternally miserable, overwhelms the thoughts, and we turn away from it with instinctive horror!
Can you reconcile yourself to such sufferings? Can you dwell with everlasting burnings? Only try the torment of fire for a moment, and you will soon be convinced that the pains of hell are not to be supported with patience; but they are worse. Remorse and despair are worse than Nebuchadnezzar's furnace, heated seven times. No flames are equal to the raging of unrepented sin; no strokes of any enemy like the taunts of infernal spirits. If you had to endure this punishment only for a limited time, the hope of deliverance might help you to bear up under the dreadful weight of sorrow; but although many support themselves by such a hope here on earth, the miserable in hell have no such alleviation. The darkness which surrounds them is thick and horrible. No ray of light ever penetrates it. No gleam of hope ever mitigates the raging anguish of the lost soul.
Consider also, that although your sins may not be openly flagrant, yet, as you have heard the gospel, and enjoyed many calls and warnings, and also many strivings of the Spirit—these will exceedingly aggravate your misery, and make your hell hotter than that of the miserable inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah. The more comfortable you are in your worldly circumstances, the more miserable will your condition be. To be cast out from among affectionate friends, to keep company with monsters of depravity! To be cast out from fine houses, pleasant gardens, fertile farms, and downy beds, to be cast into a lake of fire! To be cast out from well-furnished tables, and generous wines and cordials, to be eternally famished with burning thirst, and no gratification ever obtained—no, not so much as a drop of water to cool the tongue! This is hell indeed!
Suppose you were doomed to suffer the torment which a sinner in hell must eternally endure, for one hour in this world, would not the prospect of this doleful hour mar all your pleasures? In the midst of mirth, would it not make your heart sad; and would it not be ever present in your thoughts? You would be unable to compose yourself to sleep, or to betake yourself to your necessary business. You would consider yourself as an unfortunate wretch, and would perhaps regret that you had ever been born. Your friends would sympathize with you, and all around would look upon you with pity.
But if, from an hour, the term of your punishment should be enlarged to a year, what would you do; how would you feel? Suppose you could endure the pain of a fiery furnace for a year without dying or losing your sensibility, and you knew that this was your certain doom—could you be at ease; could you contain yourself? Would you not disregard all pursuits and enjoyments which the world could propose; and would you not take up a continual lamentation over your unhappy case? Would you not call upon all to pity you, as the most miserable wretch that ever was born? And would you consider the wealth of a prince, the honor of a conqueror, or the pleasure of an epicure, any compensation for such dreadful sufferings? Would you not despise all these things, and say, "The more I enjoy these earthly delights, and the more I forget the misery which is coming upon me, the more intolerable will be my anguish when it arrives?"
Should we be thus affected with an hour's or year's continuation of such sufferings as must be endured in hell, and shall we be indifferent to these same torments when their duration will be WITHOUT END? O God, what kind of infatuated beings are we? Surely man, of all creatures, is the most stupid in those things which relate to his salvation. ETERNAL PUNISHMENT! ETERNAL FIRE! EVERLASTING DESTRUCTION! What awful sounds are these! Who can fully understand their import?
I extend my views forward to the day of judgment; but this great day, instead of bringing these sufferings to an end, is the date of their beginning in all their terror. What shall be endured before, is nothing to what comes after. The fire will then be kindled around both soul and body, which will never cease to burn. The sufferings of the soul in a separate state, will be like the anticipations of a criminal who is conscious of guilt, while confined in a prison before the day of trial. They shall then go away into everlasting punishment. Only put yourself for a moment in the place of one of those who are commanded by the omnipotent Judge to depart, under the vengeance of an everlasting curse. The feeling mind recoils from such suppositions with such repulsive violence, that it is almost impossible to induce men to fix their thoughts steadily on such subjects. But try, for once, the experiment. Overcome your natural reluctance, and imagine yourself to be in the company that will be driven off, by the command of the Judge, from the awful tribunal, into outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. May I venture to suggest a few reflections which would probably arise in your mind in such a situation.
"Well, the scene is ended—I now know, I feel the misery of my situation! Hope, my last comforter, is eternally fled. Despair has full possession; all is lost, eternally lost! All that I now have is a miserable, accursed existence! O that I could sink into nothing, and thus escape the wrath of my avenging enemy! But I wish in vain; exist I must. Hell is my portion! I already feel its overwhelming horrors! I am tortured with agonies, and torn with pangs which no words can describe. All passions assist in increasing my misery. I see others glorious and happy, but the sight greatly enhances my woe. I feel my envy and malice raging against them, and against their God and Savior; but my wrath is impotent; it recoils upon myself, and inflicts new wounds on my tormented soul. Was this the price at which I purchased the world and its pleasures? O wretch and fool that I was! Ah, where can I go? Is there any secure or even obscure retreat for me? No, no! I sink in flames. I go into everlasting misery! I go to be companions of devils! I plunge into the dark abyss, never to rise again! And my body, my old companion in sin, must be also tormented. My body is everlasting—to bear its part in the unquenchable fire!"
But we cannot describe the anguish and despair of a lost sinner. The mere possibility of falling into such a state of indescribable anguish ought to fill us with trembling; and so it would, were not our minds blinded by the god of this world. Now reader, do you feel no concern about your salvation; or have you some method of easing your mind under these thoughts? I beseech you to consider well what the nature of that resource is.
The first thought which occurs, by way of relief to your mind, is, perhaps, that these things cannot be so—that such torments will never be inflicted by a good and merciful God. This ground appears to many very plausible, and they rest upon it with the greater confidence, because it has the appearance of honoring the character of God, at the same time that it promises safety to themselves. But before you lean on this prop, look well, I beseech you, to its foundation. Consider, that before you can derive any rational comfort from this consideration, you must be able to demonstrate that the tremendous denunciations of God's word against sinners are false, or that he will forfeit his veracity, and never execute his own threatenings. Wretched indeed is that subterfuge—the safety of which depends on proving the God of truth a liar! No, sinner, God will not deny himself for the sake of your ease! He will not allow his word to fall to the ground to enable you to realize your vain and impious hopes. "He will by no means clear the guilty. Surely, O God, you will slay the wicked. The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God. Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone; this shall be the portion of their cup!"
If you have imbibed the pernicious heresy of those false teachers who tell you that there is no future punishment for transgressors, even if they should die in the commission of the most atrocious crimes; if you believe these men who dare contradict the plain declarations of God's word, your delusion will afford you only a temporary relief. It will be like shutting your eyes when borne by an irresistible torrent towards a frightful cataract. Your own conscience, if it has not lost all sensibility, will intimate to you, too plainly to be misunderstood, that there is punishment reserved for the wicked in the world to come. Lean not, then, I beseech you, on this broken reed, which will not only fail to support you, but will pierce you to the heart!
But it is more probable that you seek relief from the apprehension of the wrath to come, in a vague hope of the mercy of God, of which so much is said in Scripture. The mercy of God is indeed a sure refuge for sinners, but it is never extended to the impenitent, who refuse to forsake their evil ways. If you will repent and believe the gospel, then will the Lord most graciously and freely forgive all your sins; but if you depend on the mercy of God to save you from hell—without being saved from sin—you trust in that which has no existence. God will not show mercy to obstinate rebels. The whole tenor of his word assures us of the certainty of this truth.
But perhaps you expect and intend to turn from your sinful ways hereafter, and thus bring yourself within the influence of God's pardoning mercy. Well, if you should become a true penitent, and humble believer in Jesus, you will be saved. But before you cry 'peace' to yourself from this expectation, I beg you to consider that your continuance on earth is uncertain. What is your life? It is a vapor. We have visible demonstration that death comes upon many very unexpectedly; and although they had entertained the same hope of future repentance, we have solemn reason to fear that it was never realized. They died as they lived, and went to meet their Judge with the guilt of all their heinous sins upon their heads. And very often men are taken suddenly away, and have not a moment allowed for that last vain hope of the sinner—a death-bed repentance. And in other cases, reason is bewildered, and the feelings are stupefied; so that the person who lived carelessly has no concern about eternal realities. And when it is otherwise, and alarm seizes the guilty person, no help or comfort can be obtained, and he dies in fearful horror and despair.
But if you should live for scores of years, you will never see the day when there will be fewer obstructions to your turning to God as there are now, and fewer inducements to cleave to the present world. Do you see men commonly forsaking the courses to which they have long been habituated? Or do you observe in the ungodly, that inclination to piety becomes greater by increase of years? You may live to be old and gray-headed, and yet remain unconverted, and go down to hell with a double curse on your head! There is no greater nor more dangerous delusion among men, than the procrastination of their conversion! While thousands lose their souls in consequence of it, not one ever puts his resolution into practice, unless some other influence than his own former purposes operates on him.
Reader, awake! Eternity is just before you! Heaven or hell will soon be your everlasting abode! For heaven, you know you are not prepared. If you were admitted to that holy place, the exercises and employments of the inhabitants would be no way in accordance with the state of your heart. You have no love for the service and worship of God here on earth—and death will make no reformation in the sinner's heart. Then you must be excluded from heaven by the necessity of the case, unless you acquire new principles and a new taste. "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." "Without holiness no man shall see the Lord."
What you intend to do, do quickly, for the time is short. While you are halting between two opinions, the door of mercy may be shut forever. Seize the present moment; break off your sins by repentance; renounce all confidence in your own good deeds or righteousness, and trust alone in the atoning sacrifice of Christ! "Whoever believes in him shall not be ashamed." Cry mightily to him for mercy, and for the Holy Spirit to sanctify you and aid you in every duty.
Search the Scriptures daily. Attend on the preaching of the word. Be one among the company who surround the throne of grace in social prayer. Avoid ensnaring company and dissipating amusements. Forsake all known sin, and see that you perform those external duties which have hitherto been neglected. If you have wronged or injured any, make restitution, or make amends, as far as is in your power. Abandon all quarrels and strife with your neighbors, and promote piety and good order in your own house, by reading the Scriptures, and calling upon God.
But never think that external duties, or attendance on means and ordinances, however exact, is an evidence that your soul is saved. Never rest satisfied with your spiritual state, until you have evidence in a heart-felt sense of the burden of your sins, that you have in truth fled for refuge to the hope set before you in the gospel. The Lord Jesus Christ, apprehended and received by faith, is the only safe sanctuary for a soul pursued by the demands of a broken law!
O man, flee to this dear refuge, before the storm, which is black and lowering, overtakes you. "Lay hold on eternal life!" "Now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation." See, the door of reconciliation is open. Jesus invites you to come to him for rest, and promises that he will not cast you out; yes, complains that you will not come unto him, that you may have life. Others are entering in at the strait gate—why do you delay? Instead of losing by coming to Jesus, even in this world, you will gain a hundred-fold. Godliness with contentment is great gain!
In comparison with salvation, all other subjects are trivial. To waste time in the pursuit of wealth, or in the chase of sensual pleasure, while our salvation is not secure, is more than folly—it is madness. What, would you agree to dwell in the dark dungeon of despair forever and ever, for the sake of living a few years upon earth in a sumptuous house? Would you consent to endure the sting of the never-dying worm, and the torment of unquenchable fire, to all eternity, for the sake of gratifying your appetites and senses for a moment? No man would deliberately make such a determination; yet such is the language which many speak by their conduct. The world is pursued daily, at the risk of eternal damnation.
The resolution of attending to the concerns of the soul at a later time, answers no other purpose than to lull the conscience asleep. Where have we known a person, by virtue of these flattering resolutions, change his conduct? The next day is like the one that preceded it. Every succeeding year passes by, like those that went before. No convenient time for repentance and reformation ever comes. Youth soon runs out in the giddy circle of pleasure and amusement. Middle age is completely occupied with cares and business; and old age, if it ever arrives, finds the heart hardened, the habits fixed, and the conscience seared. Death overtakes the unfortunate wretch. He dies as he lived, either goaded by guilt, or benumbed with stupidity. He dies, and sinks to hell, where there are no amusements to entertain, no business to engage, no error to becloud the mind. To fall into the hands of the living God, as an avenging Judge, is dreadful beyond conception! To be eternally miserable, overwhelms the thoughts, and we turn away from it with instinctive horror!
Can you reconcile yourself to such sufferings? Can you dwell with everlasting burnings? Only try the torment of fire for a moment, and you will soon be convinced that the pains of hell are not to be supported with patience; but they are worse. Remorse and despair are worse than Nebuchadnezzar's furnace, heated seven times. No flames are equal to the raging of unrepented sin; no strokes of any enemy like the taunts of infernal spirits. If you had to endure this punishment only for a limited time, the hope of deliverance might help you to bear up under the dreadful weight of sorrow; but although many support themselves by such a hope here on earth, the miserable in hell have no such alleviation. The darkness which surrounds them is thick and horrible. No ray of light ever penetrates it. No gleam of hope ever mitigates the raging anguish of the lost soul.
Consider also, that although your sins may not be openly flagrant, yet, as you have heard the gospel, and enjoyed many calls and warnings, and also many strivings of the Spirit—these will exceedingly aggravate your misery, and make your hell hotter than that of the miserable inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah. The more comfortable you are in your worldly circumstances, the more miserable will your condition be. To be cast out from among affectionate friends, to keep company with monsters of depravity! To be cast out from fine houses, pleasant gardens, fertile farms, and downy beds, to be cast into a lake of fire! To be cast out from well-furnished tables, and generous wines and cordials, to be eternally famished with burning thirst, and no gratification ever obtained—no, not so much as a drop of water to cool the tongue! This is hell indeed!
Suppose you were doomed to suffer the torment which a sinner in hell must eternally endure, for one hour in this world, would not the prospect of this doleful hour mar all your pleasures? In the midst of mirth, would it not make your heart sad; and would it not be ever present in your thoughts? You would be unable to compose yourself to sleep, or to betake yourself to your necessary business. You would consider yourself as an unfortunate wretch, and would perhaps regret that you had ever been born. Your friends would sympathize with you, and all around would look upon you with pity.
But if, from an hour, the term of your punishment should be enlarged to a year, what would you do; how would you feel? Suppose you could endure the pain of a fiery furnace for a year without dying or losing your sensibility, and you knew that this was your certain doom—could you be at ease; could you contain yourself? Would you not disregard all pursuits and enjoyments which the world could propose; and would you not take up a continual lamentation over your unhappy case? Would you not call upon all to pity you, as the most miserable wretch that ever was born? And would you consider the wealth of a prince, the honor of a conqueror, or the pleasure of an epicure, any compensation for such dreadful sufferings? Would you not despise all these things, and say, "The more I enjoy these earthly delights, and the more I forget the misery which is coming upon me, the more intolerable will be my anguish when it arrives?"
Should we be thus affected with an hour's or year's continuation of such sufferings as must be endured in hell, and shall we be indifferent to these same torments when their duration will be WITHOUT END? O God, what kind of infatuated beings are we? Surely man, of all creatures, is the most stupid in those things which relate to his salvation. ETERNAL PUNISHMENT! ETERNAL FIRE! EVERLASTING DESTRUCTION! What awful sounds are these! Who can fully understand their import?
I extend my views forward to the day of judgment; but this great day, instead of bringing these sufferings to an end, is the date of their beginning in all their terror. What shall be endured before, is nothing to what comes after. The fire will then be kindled around both soul and body, which will never cease to burn. The sufferings of the soul in a separate state, will be like the anticipations of a criminal who is conscious of guilt, while confined in a prison before the day of trial. They shall then go away into everlasting punishment. Only put yourself for a moment in the place of one of those who are commanded by the omnipotent Judge to depart, under the vengeance of an everlasting curse. The feeling mind recoils from such suppositions with such repulsive violence, that it is almost impossible to induce men to fix their thoughts steadily on such subjects. But try, for once, the experiment. Overcome your natural reluctance, and imagine yourself to be in the company that will be driven off, by the command of the Judge, from the awful tribunal, into outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. May I venture to suggest a few reflections which would probably arise in your mind in such a situation.
"Well, the scene is ended—I now know, I feel the misery of my situation! Hope, my last comforter, is eternally fled. Despair has full possession; all is lost, eternally lost! All that I now have is a miserable, accursed existence! O that I could sink into nothing, and thus escape the wrath of my avenging enemy! But I wish in vain; exist I must. Hell is my portion! I already feel its overwhelming horrors! I am tortured with agonies, and torn with pangs which no words can describe. All passions assist in increasing my misery. I see others glorious and happy, but the sight greatly enhances my woe. I feel my envy and malice raging against them, and against their God and Savior; but my wrath is impotent; it recoils upon myself, and inflicts new wounds on my tormented soul. Was this the price at which I purchased the world and its pleasures? O wretch and fool that I was! Ah, where can I go? Is there any secure or even obscure retreat for me? No, no! I sink in flames. I go into everlasting misery! I go to be companions of devils! I plunge into the dark abyss, never to rise again! And my body, my old companion in sin, must be also tormented. My body is everlasting—to bear its part in the unquenchable fire!"
But we cannot describe the anguish and despair of a lost sinner. The mere possibility of falling into such a state of indescribable anguish ought to fill us with trembling; and so it would, were not our minds blinded by the god of this world. Now reader, do you feel no concern about your salvation; or have you some method of easing your mind under these thoughts? I beseech you to consider well what the nature of that resource is.
The first thought which occurs, by way of relief to your mind, is, perhaps, that these things cannot be so—that such torments will never be inflicted by a good and merciful God. This ground appears to many very plausible, and they rest upon it with the greater confidence, because it has the appearance of honoring the character of God, at the same time that it promises safety to themselves. But before you lean on this prop, look well, I beseech you, to its foundation. Consider, that before you can derive any rational comfort from this consideration, you must be able to demonstrate that the tremendous denunciations of God's word against sinners are false, or that he will forfeit his veracity, and never execute his own threatenings. Wretched indeed is that subterfuge—the safety of which depends on proving the God of truth a liar! No, sinner, God will not deny himself for the sake of your ease! He will not allow his word to fall to the ground to enable you to realize your vain and impious hopes. "He will by no means clear the guilty. Surely, O God, you will slay the wicked. The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God. Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone; this shall be the portion of their cup!"
If you have imbibed the pernicious heresy of those false teachers who tell you that there is no future punishment for transgressors, even if they should die in the commission of the most atrocious crimes; if you believe these men who dare contradict the plain declarations of God's word, your delusion will afford you only a temporary relief. It will be like shutting your eyes when borne by an irresistible torrent towards a frightful cataract. Your own conscience, if it has not lost all sensibility, will intimate to you, too plainly to be misunderstood, that there is punishment reserved for the wicked in the world to come. Lean not, then, I beseech you, on this broken reed, which will not only fail to support you, but will pierce you to the heart!
But it is more probable that you seek relief from the apprehension of the wrath to come, in a vague hope of the mercy of God, of which so much is said in Scripture. The mercy of God is indeed a sure refuge for sinners, but it is never extended to the impenitent, who refuse to forsake their evil ways. If you will repent and believe the gospel, then will the Lord most graciously and freely forgive all your sins; but if you depend on the mercy of God to save you from hell—without being saved from sin—you trust in that which has no existence. God will not show mercy to obstinate rebels. The whole tenor of his word assures us of the certainty of this truth.
But perhaps you expect and intend to turn from your sinful ways hereafter, and thus bring yourself within the influence of God's pardoning mercy. Well, if you should become a true penitent, and humble believer in Jesus, you will be saved. But before you cry 'peace' to yourself from this expectation, I beg you to consider that your continuance on earth is uncertain. What is your life? It is a vapor. We have visible demonstration that death comes upon many very unexpectedly; and although they had entertained the same hope of future repentance, we have solemn reason to fear that it was never realized. They died as they lived, and went to meet their Judge with the guilt of all their heinous sins upon their heads. And very often men are taken suddenly away, and have not a moment allowed for that last vain hope of the sinner—a death-bed repentance. And in other cases, reason is bewildered, and the feelings are stupefied; so that the person who lived carelessly has no concern about eternal realities. And when it is otherwise, and alarm seizes the guilty person, no help or comfort can be obtained, and he dies in fearful horror and despair.
But if you should live for scores of years, you will never see the day when there will be fewer obstructions to your turning to God as there are now, and fewer inducements to cleave to the present world. Do you see men commonly forsaking the courses to which they have long been habituated? Or do you observe in the ungodly, that inclination to piety becomes greater by increase of years? You may live to be old and gray-headed, and yet remain unconverted, and go down to hell with a double curse on your head! There is no greater nor more dangerous delusion among men, than the procrastination of their conversion! While thousands lose their souls in consequence of it, not one ever puts his resolution into practice, unless some other influence than his own former purposes operates on him.
Reader, awake! Eternity is just before you! Heaven or hell will soon be your everlasting abode! For heaven, you know you are not prepared. If you were admitted to that holy place, the exercises and employments of the inhabitants would be no way in accordance with the state of your heart. You have no love for the service and worship of God here on earth—and death will make no reformation in the sinner's heart. Then you must be excluded from heaven by the necessity of the case, unless you acquire new principles and a new taste. "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." "Without holiness no man shall see the Lord."
What you intend to do, do quickly, for the time is short. While you are halting between two opinions, the door of mercy may be shut forever. Seize the present moment; break off your sins by repentance; renounce all confidence in your own good deeds or righteousness, and trust alone in the atoning sacrifice of Christ! "Whoever believes in him shall not be ashamed." Cry mightily to him for mercy, and for the Holy Spirit to sanctify you and aid you in every duty.
Search the Scriptures daily. Attend on the preaching of the word. Be one among the company who surround the throne of grace in social prayer. Avoid ensnaring company and dissipating amusements. Forsake all known sin, and see that you perform those external duties which have hitherto been neglected. If you have wronged or injured any, make restitution, or make amends, as far as is in your power. Abandon all quarrels and strife with your neighbors, and promote piety and good order in your own house, by reading the Scriptures, and calling upon God.
But never think that external duties, or attendance on means and ordinances, however exact, is an evidence that your soul is saved. Never rest satisfied with your spiritual state, until you have evidence in a heart-felt sense of the burden of your sins, that you have in truth fled for refuge to the hope set before you in the gospel. The Lord Jesus Christ, apprehended and received by faith, is the only safe sanctuary for a soul pursued by the demands of a broken law!
O man, flee to this dear refuge, before the storm, which is black and lowering, overtakes you. "Lay hold on eternal life!" "Now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation." See, the door of reconciliation is open. Jesus invites you to come to him for rest, and promises that he will not cast you out; yes, complains that you will not come unto him, that you may have life. Others are entering in at the strait gate—why do you delay? Instead of losing by coming to Jesus, even in this world, you will gain a hundred-fold. Godliness with contentment is great gain!
THE DAY OF JUDGMENT
by Archibald Alexander
That a just God will render to every man according to his character and works, is a dictate of reason. Conscience also intimates to every man, when he sins, that he deserves to be punished. When we see or hear of great crimes committed by others, such as murders, perjuries, robbery, or treachery—we feel something within us demanding that such should receive deserved punishment. But we see that the wicked are not always punished in this world, according to their evil deeds. It seems reasonable, therefore, to expect that there will be a judgment after death.
We are not left, however, to the mere dictates of reason on this subject. God, in his word, has revealed in the clearest manner that there will be a day of reckoning at the end of the world. This day is appointed, and will certainly come. It is not so certain that we shall ever see the sun rise again, as it is that we shall see the day of judgment. The Lord Jesus Christ is also appointed to act as Judge on that day: "because he has appointed a day, in which he will judge the world in righteousness, by that man whom he has ordained." Acts 17:31. "For we must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ; that everyone may receive the things done in his body, according to that he has done, whether it be good or bad." 2 Cor. 5:10.
When this solemn day will arrive is a profound secret, not revealed to any creature in the universe. But we know that it will come suddenly and unexpectedly on those who shall then be on the earth. As it was in the days of Noah and of Lot, so will it be in the day of judgment. Men will be pursuing their common worldly business and amusements, without apprehension of danger, when the sound of the last trumpet shall be heard—for the trumpet shall sound—and the Son of man shall be seen coming in the clouds of heaven!
The race of man shall not cease from the earth until that day comes. There will then be a generation of living inhabitants, probably very numerous, in the world. These will never die as other men, but they will undergo a change equivalent to death and a resurrection; in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, they shall be changed. But all those who are in their graves shall hear the voice of God, and shall come forth, great and small. No sooner shall the trumpet sound, than the scattered dust of unnumbered millions shall resume its proper place in every man. No matter where it lies, or how widely it may have been scattered, one word of the Almighty God is sufficient to bring it to its place, and animate it with new life. The multitude which will then start up into life cannot be conceived, it will be so great. There will stand Adam and all his posterity; there will stand those who lived before the flood, and those who have lived since; there will be seen the ancient patriarchs, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and the inspired prophets and apostles; there will appear kings, emperors, nobles, and their subjects; the learned philosopher and the ignorant multitude; ministers and their congregations, parents and their children, masters and their servants—all, all coming forward to the grand tribunal! Not one of our whole race will be absent from this great assembly. There, reader, shall you and I stand—trembling or rejoicing!
It is useless to inquire where room can be found for so great a multitude to stand, for this will be a day of miracles. All the wonders ever exhibited before will be nothing to the wonders of that day. Indeed, all that is natural will end on that day, and everything will be miraculous. The sun will no longer rise and set, the moon no longer give her light, and the stars shall no longer appear in the skies. Heaven will appear to have come down to earth, for the King of kings and Lord of heaven will be visible to all, with all his own glory and that of his Father. And all the holy angels will appear in attendance, standing round his throne, ready to execute his orders, whether of justice or of mercy.
When all things are prepared—when the Judge has taken his seat on the tribunal, and all men are brought before him, the judgment will begin; "and the books will be opened." What books these are, except one, which is "the book of life," we are not informed; but we may be sure that one is the book of God's law, and another the record of human actions which is in the "book of" God's "remembrance." It is not necessary to think of more. These contain all that is necessary for conducting the trial of every man. The one contains the law, and the other the testimony. But everything will be conducted with the most perfect justice and equity. Every man will be judged for his own deeds, and according to that knowledge of the law which he had opportunity of acquiring. The omniscience of the Judge will enable him to estimate with perfect exactness all the circumstances of every action; everything which aggravates guilt, and everything which palliates it, will have due consideration. Those who lived under the patriarchal dispensation, will be judged according to the light and advantages then enjoyed. Those who lived under the Mosaic economy, will be judged by the law of Moses. Those who enjoyed the clear light of the gospel, will be dealt with in a manner accordant to their advantages. Those who enjoyed no external revelation, will be judged by that law written on the hearts of all men.
The things which shall be brought under the eye of the Judge, and exhibited to the view of the universe, are, all deeds done in the body—whatever a man has done, whether good or bad. Every secret thing. "For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil." Eccl. 12:14. Every idle word. "I say unto you, that every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment." Matt. 12:36. The thoughts of the heart shall also be made manifest. Every unholy desire; every proud, envious, or malicious thought; every secret purpose of iniquity; every unhallowed temper; every rebellious and discontented and ungrateful feeling towards God and his government—will be brought into judgment.
And the inquiry will extend not only to positive acts of sin; but also to omissions of duty. Great as is the number of the acts of wickedness, the catalogue of omissions will be greater, and not less criminal. The first sin of this sort which will claim the attention of the Judge, will be the omission to entertain and cultivate right sentiments towards God. No more heavy charge will be brought against any individual on that day, than that he neglected to love the Lord his God with all his heart, and soul, and mind, and strength. This is the total violation of the first and greatest command, and the fountain of all other iniquities.
The neglect to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ when he was offered to us a complete Savior in the gospel, will, to the unfruitful hearers of the word, be an accusation of the highest kind. The heinousness and enormity of unbelief which now affects the consciences of men so little, will on that day appear in a glaring light. It will not be strange if it should call forth reproaches upon the unhappy culprit, from devils who never had a Savior provided, and from heathen who never had a Savior offered to them.
In that account which our Lord has given of the process of the judgment, in the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew, the neglect of kindness to the godly, by visiting, comforting, and aiding them, is the only thing mentioned. Whatever else, then, may be noticed, we are sure this will not be forgotten. The whole passage is so solemn and interesting, that it deserves our deepest attention: "When the Son of Man comes in His glory, and all the angels with Him, then He will sit on the throne of His glory. All the nations will be gathered before Him, and He will separate them one from another, just as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on His right, and the goats on the left. Then the King will say to those on His right, 'Come, you who are blessed by My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in; I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you took care of Me; I was in prison and you visited Me.' "Then the righteous will answer Him, 'Lord, when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You something to drink? When did we see You a stranger and take You in, or without clothes and clothe You? When did we see You sick, or in prison, and visit You?' "And the King will answer them, 'I assure you: Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of Mine, you did for Me.' Then He will also say to those on the left, 'Depart from Me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the Devil and his angels! For I was hungry and you gave Me nothing to eat; I was thirsty and you gave Me nothing to drink; I was a stranger and you didn't take Me in; I was naked and you didn't clothe Me, sick and in prison and you didn't take care of Me.' "Then they too will answer, 'Lord, when did we see You hungry, or thirsty, or a stranger, or without clothes, or sick, or in prison, and not help You?' "Then He will answer them, 'I assure you: Whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for Me either.' "And they will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life." (Matthew 25:31-46)
And let it be well considered, that most of the sins which are mentioned in the discourses or Christ as the ground of condemnation, are sins of omission. The slothful servant, who prepares not himself, is the wicked servant, who will be cast into outer darkness. The man who wrapped his talent in a napkin and buried it, is condemned out of his own mouth. For "to him that knows to do good," of any kind, "and does it not—to him it is sin!" James 4:17.
Many who prided themselves in their inoffensive lives and harmless behavior, will find, when the books are opened, a catalogue of omissions which will startle them with horror, and overwhelm them with confusion!
"God does not view things the way men do. People look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." 1 Samuel 16:7
"You are the ones who make yourselves look right in other people's sight, but God knows your hearts. For the things that are considered of great value by people are worth nothing in God's sight." Luke 16:15
"He Himself knew what was in their hearts." John 2:25
"Lord, you know the thoughts of everyone." Acts 1:24
"Almighty Lord, You test people justly; You know what is in their hearts and minds." Jeremiah 20:12
"You alone know the thoughts of the human heart. Deal with each person as he deserves." 1 Kings 8:39
And as externally good actions will then be examined by One who has a full view of the motives from which they proceeded, and the end which the person had in view—is it not certain that many religious actions will then appear to have been mere hypocrisy? that many actions, apparently just and benevolent, were mere efforts of pride and selfishness? and that a life moral and blameless in the eyes of men—was a mere cloak which covered a heart full of unclean lusts? Our most intimate friends here will be astonished when they see our secret iniquities and wicked motives exposed to view. The most detestable crimes will be unveiled in those who passed through life without suspicion! O how many secret murders, perjuries, thefts, blasphemies, and adulteries—will then be brought to light! How much injustice, fraud, cruelty, oppression, pride, malice, revenge will then be unveiled!
The cries of the injured, the widow, and the orphan, always enter into the ears of the Lord, and he now comes to avenge them. Cruel persecutors of God's people, though clothed in purple, and almost adored when living in the world, will now be brought to a severe account. The blood of the martyred saints from beneath the altar has been long crying out, "How long, O Lord, holy and true, do you not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?" Rev. 6:10. And now the day of retribution has arrived!
What will be the length of time occupied with the judgment we know not. It is called a day, but it will differ exceedingly from all other days; and in its duration, probably, as well as in other respects. Our wisdom is to attend to what is revealed, and to repress a vain curiosity in regard to other matters. We may rest assured that the whole process will be wisely conducted, and that complete justice will be done. The Judge of all the earth will do right! He will not condemn the innocent, nor clear the guilty. And his judgment will be most impartial. There will be no respecting of people. The king and the beggar will stand upon equal ground, and will be judged by the same standard. Those who in this world were reviled and slandered, and had no opportunity of clearing up their character, will then be vindicated, and lies and reproaches will have effect no more.
But here a serious difficulty occurs. It may be said, "If the law of God is the rule of judgment, and if all sins are brought into judgment, then certainly every human being must be condemned—'for all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.' According to this view, none can be saved. To remove this difficulty, let it be remembered, that besides the book of the law, there is another book which will be produced there, written from the foundation of the world. This is called THE BOOK OF LIFE. This contains the names—and they shall never be blotted out—of all those who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. These he has undertaken to present to God without spot or wrinkle, or any such thing. They will appear on that day clothed with the righteousness of the Redeemer. The Judge on the throne is their covenanted Surety. He answers to every accusation made against them.
But notwithstanding "there is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus;" notwithstanding none can "lay anything to the charge of God's elect;" yet they also shall be brought into judgment. When all things are prepared, and the whole assembly is collected before the solemn tribunal, a separation will be made of the great congregation into two parts, the righteous, and the wicked. The former will be placed on the right hand of the Judge, and with them he will commence. But no sooner shall their numerous sins be brought to view, than it will be made to appear that they are pardoned through the blood of Christ! When the books are opened, a long account will appear against them; but on the other hand, it will be seen that the whole is freely forgiven through the riches of grace in Christ Jesus!
But a most exact account will be taken of all their good works; and they will be mentioned to their honor, and rewarded as though no imperfection had cleaved to them! The least act of kindness done to any of Christ's followers will be magnified and rewarded as if done to Christ himself. Even the giving a cup of cold water to a disciple, in the name of a disciple, shall not lose its reward. People in the lowest state, servants and slaves, who performed their duty faithfully, shall not be forgotten in that day. "Remember that the Lord will reward each of us, whether slave or free, for the good work we do." Eph. 6:8.
But those who suffered persecution and death for righteousness' sake, will be most highly distinguished, and most signally rewarded. "Blessed are you when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad; for great is your reward in heaven!" Matt. 5:11, 12. They also who have labored much in promoting the Redeemer's kingdom, will receive a reward proportioned to their works of faith and labors of love. But none who have done good shall fail of their reward. Everyone shall receive according to what he has done; and everyone will be satisfied; for the lowest place in glory is a situation too dazzling for our present conceptions, and the whole is a matter of pure grace. These works, considered in themselves, deserve no reward. But it is the will of God that every holy desire, every good word and work, in the members of Christ's body, should receive a mark of his favor—to the honor and glory of him who is their Head, and who died for their salvation.
When the gracious sentence, "Come, you blessed, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world," is pronounced, the righteous shall be caught up to the Lord, and shall be seated by his side, and be united with him in the remaining transactions of that great day; for it is written, "The saints shall judge the world," and, "Know you not that you shall judge angels?"
The case of the righteous being disposed of, then will come the awful transaction of pronouncing sentence on the wicked. They will, indeed, have anticipated the sentence. By this time they will be certain of their doom; but the scene itself will far exceed all apprehensions before entertained. To behold the face of inflexible justice turned towards them—to hear the irreversible sentence of condemnation, and that too from the mouth of the benevolent Son of God—to feel in the inmost soul the justice of the sentence—to be as certain of everlasting damnation as they are of existence—are things concerning which we can speak now, but of which we can form but very feeble conceptions, compared with the dreadful reality. In all his existence there will probably be no moment in which the sinner's anguish will be so poignant as in this, when the Judge shall say, "Depart, you cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels!" Matt. 25:41.
Every word in this tremendous denunciation will pierce through the soul with more insufferable pain than ten thousand daggers. It is reasonable to think that every person against whom it is pronounced, will endure as much misery at that moment as in the nature of things is possible. And if this were all, the prospect would be appalling; but to be doomed to endless misery in fire, with the devil and his angels!—who can bear the thought without horror and dismay? Yet, as sure as God is true, will this sentence be executed on every impenitent sinner. Men may reason and cavil now, but then every mouth shall be stopped. That the cry of despair and horror will be heard through the great multitude, is certain—such a great and bitter cry as was never heard before. But it is all in vain; repentance comes too late. The day of grace is forever past. The gospel dispensation is ended. This is the consummation of all things.
No change in condition can ever be expected. Those who are saved, have their salvation secured by the oath and promise of God; and those who are lost, have their damnation sealed forever and ever by a judicial sentence which can never be revoked. And from this sentence there is no appeal. There is no higher tribunal to which the cause may be transferred. Neither can any resistance be made to the execution of the sentence. Those who are now bold and daring in their blasphemies and rebellion, will then find that they are in the hands of a sin-avenging God. It will belong to the holy angels, who are mighty in power, to execute the sentence of the Judge. "So shall it be," said our blessed Savior, "at the end of the world: the angels shall come forth, and sever the wicked from among the just, and shall cast them into the furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth." Matt. 13:49, 50. And it will be as impossible to escape as to resist. The rocks and mountains will not cover them. They cannot cease to exist. Go where they will, God is there to execute deserved wrath upon them. They will therefore be obliged "to go away into everlasting punishment." Matt. 25:46.
The devil and his angels will also be judged on that day; but of the particular nature of the trial we are not informed. All that we know is, that "the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, he has reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgment of the great day." Jude, ver. 6. They are now miserable, but their cup is not full; therefore they cried out when they saw Jesus, "Have you come to torment us before the time?" Matt. 8:29. At the breaking up of this great assembly, the present system of the world will be destroyed. For "the present heavens and earth are held in store for fire, being kept until the day of judgment and destruction of ungodly men." 2 Pet. 3:7.
Reader, deeply fix in your mind the certainty and importance of the transactions of this last, great day. Meditate upon it as a reality in which you have a momentous interest. Let every other day, as it passes, put you in mind of this in which all others will end. Consider also that it draws near. Every moment bears us on towards the great tribunal. Mockers may say, Where is the promise of his coming? "But the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night; in which the heavens will pass away with a great noise, and the elements will be dissolved with fervent heat, and the earth and the works that are in it will be burned up." 2 Pet. 3:10.
O reader, whoever you are, let me entreat you to inquire without delay, whether you are prepared for the scrutiny and judgment of this coming day. Have you made your peace with God? Have you repented of all your sins? Are you in union with Christ by faith? Have you any clear scriptural evidence that your sins are pardoned? What says conscience to these inquiries? Be assured, if your own heart condemns you, God, who is greater than your heart, and knows all things, will much more condemn you. But your situation is not like that of them whose day of grace is ended. You are yet in the place of reconciliation. You have yet a little time before you—God only knows how much. Now, then, hear the voice of warning! Hear the voice of mercy! Now "strive to enter in at the strait gate." Now forsake your sins, and live! Accept the offered grace—"lay hold on eternal life!"
Let no consideration induce you to delay your conversion. The importance of salvation—the uncertainty of life—the danger of provoking the Holy Spirit to abandon you—the example of thousands who have perished by procrastination—should urge you to lose no time, but to fall in with the gracious invitation of the gospel. But if you will refuse, then prepare to meet an angry God! Harden yourself against the terrors of the Almighty; summon all your fortitude to bear your dreadful doom from the Judge of living and dead. But I refrain—there is no fortitude or patience in hell.
Reader, are you advanced in years? Let your gray hairs and pains and wrinkles admonish you that you are near to judgment; for what if death intervene, yet after death all preparation is impossible. Just as death leaves us—so will judgment find us—and keep us. "In the place where the tree falls, there it shall lie." Eccl. 11:3. Consider also that the number of your sins is in proportion to the number of your days. Long life will prove a dreadful curse to those who die in their sins!
But if you are in youth, or in the vigor of manhood, remember that your life is a vapor; that most men do not live out half their days; and that of those who shall appear before the judgment, comparatively few will have finished their course of threescore years and ten. "Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth." Eccl. 12:1. "Behold, the Judge stands before the door!" James 5:9. Others have been suddenly taken away from your side. They also intended to make preparation hereafter; but while they were pleasing themselves with the prospect of many years, and were saying, "Soul, you have many goods laid up for many years. Take your ease, eat, drink, be merry!" God said, "You fool, this night your soul shall be required of you!" "Be therefore ready also, for at such an hour as you think not, the Son of man comes."
"Behold, the axe is laid at the root of the tree," and now perhaps you are spared, on account of the prayer of some kind intercessor, for one year. This, for anything you know, may be your last year. If so, it behooves you to make good use of your time and privileges. Let the idea of the judgment be ever before your mind. There you must appear—there you must stand and render up your account—there you must be filled with overwhelming shame and terror—there you must hear the awful final sentence, which will fix your doom irreversibly, unless by a speedy repentance, and by faith in Jesus Christ, you flee from the wrath to come!
May God, of his infinite mercy, cause the truths which you have read in this tract to sink deeply into your mind; and by the light of his Holy Spirit lead you to just views of your own condition, and to saving views of the Lord Jesus Christ—the only Redeemer of lost sinners! Amen.
That a just God will render to every man according to his character and works, is a dictate of reason. Conscience also intimates to every man, when he sins, that he deserves to be punished. When we see or hear of great crimes committed by others, such as murders, perjuries, robbery, or treachery—we feel something within us demanding that such should receive deserved punishment. But we see that the wicked are not always punished in this world, according to their evil deeds. It seems reasonable, therefore, to expect that there will be a judgment after death.
We are not left, however, to the mere dictates of reason on this subject. God, in his word, has revealed in the clearest manner that there will be a day of reckoning at the end of the world. This day is appointed, and will certainly come. It is not so certain that we shall ever see the sun rise again, as it is that we shall see the day of judgment. The Lord Jesus Christ is also appointed to act as Judge on that day: "because he has appointed a day, in which he will judge the world in righteousness, by that man whom he has ordained." Acts 17:31. "For we must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ; that everyone may receive the things done in his body, according to that he has done, whether it be good or bad." 2 Cor. 5:10.
When this solemn day will arrive is a profound secret, not revealed to any creature in the universe. But we know that it will come suddenly and unexpectedly on those who shall then be on the earth. As it was in the days of Noah and of Lot, so will it be in the day of judgment. Men will be pursuing their common worldly business and amusements, without apprehension of danger, when the sound of the last trumpet shall be heard—for the trumpet shall sound—and the Son of man shall be seen coming in the clouds of heaven!
The race of man shall not cease from the earth until that day comes. There will then be a generation of living inhabitants, probably very numerous, in the world. These will never die as other men, but they will undergo a change equivalent to death and a resurrection; in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, they shall be changed. But all those who are in their graves shall hear the voice of God, and shall come forth, great and small. No sooner shall the trumpet sound, than the scattered dust of unnumbered millions shall resume its proper place in every man. No matter where it lies, or how widely it may have been scattered, one word of the Almighty God is sufficient to bring it to its place, and animate it with new life. The multitude which will then start up into life cannot be conceived, it will be so great. There will stand Adam and all his posterity; there will stand those who lived before the flood, and those who have lived since; there will be seen the ancient patriarchs, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and the inspired prophets and apostles; there will appear kings, emperors, nobles, and their subjects; the learned philosopher and the ignorant multitude; ministers and their congregations, parents and their children, masters and their servants—all, all coming forward to the grand tribunal! Not one of our whole race will be absent from this great assembly. There, reader, shall you and I stand—trembling or rejoicing!
It is useless to inquire where room can be found for so great a multitude to stand, for this will be a day of miracles. All the wonders ever exhibited before will be nothing to the wonders of that day. Indeed, all that is natural will end on that day, and everything will be miraculous. The sun will no longer rise and set, the moon no longer give her light, and the stars shall no longer appear in the skies. Heaven will appear to have come down to earth, for the King of kings and Lord of heaven will be visible to all, with all his own glory and that of his Father. And all the holy angels will appear in attendance, standing round his throne, ready to execute his orders, whether of justice or of mercy.
When all things are prepared—when the Judge has taken his seat on the tribunal, and all men are brought before him, the judgment will begin; "and the books will be opened." What books these are, except one, which is "the book of life," we are not informed; but we may be sure that one is the book of God's law, and another the record of human actions which is in the "book of" God's "remembrance." It is not necessary to think of more. These contain all that is necessary for conducting the trial of every man. The one contains the law, and the other the testimony. But everything will be conducted with the most perfect justice and equity. Every man will be judged for his own deeds, and according to that knowledge of the law which he had opportunity of acquiring. The omniscience of the Judge will enable him to estimate with perfect exactness all the circumstances of every action; everything which aggravates guilt, and everything which palliates it, will have due consideration. Those who lived under the patriarchal dispensation, will be judged according to the light and advantages then enjoyed. Those who lived under the Mosaic economy, will be judged by the law of Moses. Those who enjoyed the clear light of the gospel, will be dealt with in a manner accordant to their advantages. Those who enjoyed no external revelation, will be judged by that law written on the hearts of all men.
The things which shall be brought under the eye of the Judge, and exhibited to the view of the universe, are, all deeds done in the body—whatever a man has done, whether good or bad. Every secret thing. "For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil." Eccl. 12:14. Every idle word. "I say unto you, that every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment." Matt. 12:36. The thoughts of the heart shall also be made manifest. Every unholy desire; every proud, envious, or malicious thought; every secret purpose of iniquity; every unhallowed temper; every rebellious and discontented and ungrateful feeling towards God and his government—will be brought into judgment.
And the inquiry will extend not only to positive acts of sin; but also to omissions of duty. Great as is the number of the acts of wickedness, the catalogue of omissions will be greater, and not less criminal. The first sin of this sort which will claim the attention of the Judge, will be the omission to entertain and cultivate right sentiments towards God. No more heavy charge will be brought against any individual on that day, than that he neglected to love the Lord his God with all his heart, and soul, and mind, and strength. This is the total violation of the first and greatest command, and the fountain of all other iniquities.
The neglect to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ when he was offered to us a complete Savior in the gospel, will, to the unfruitful hearers of the word, be an accusation of the highest kind. The heinousness and enormity of unbelief which now affects the consciences of men so little, will on that day appear in a glaring light. It will not be strange if it should call forth reproaches upon the unhappy culprit, from devils who never had a Savior provided, and from heathen who never had a Savior offered to them.
In that account which our Lord has given of the process of the judgment, in the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew, the neglect of kindness to the godly, by visiting, comforting, and aiding them, is the only thing mentioned. Whatever else, then, may be noticed, we are sure this will not be forgotten. The whole passage is so solemn and interesting, that it deserves our deepest attention: "When the Son of Man comes in His glory, and all the angels with Him, then He will sit on the throne of His glory. All the nations will be gathered before Him, and He will separate them one from another, just as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on His right, and the goats on the left. Then the King will say to those on His right, 'Come, you who are blessed by My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in; I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you took care of Me; I was in prison and you visited Me.' "Then the righteous will answer Him, 'Lord, when did we see You hungry and feed You, or thirsty and give You something to drink? When did we see You a stranger and take You in, or without clothes and clothe You? When did we see You sick, or in prison, and visit You?' "And the King will answer them, 'I assure you: Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of Mine, you did for Me.' Then He will also say to those on the left, 'Depart from Me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the Devil and his angels! For I was hungry and you gave Me nothing to eat; I was thirsty and you gave Me nothing to drink; I was a stranger and you didn't take Me in; I was naked and you didn't clothe Me, sick and in prison and you didn't take care of Me.' "Then they too will answer, 'Lord, when did we see You hungry, or thirsty, or a stranger, or without clothes, or sick, or in prison, and not help You?' "Then He will answer them, 'I assure you: Whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for Me either.' "And they will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life." (Matthew 25:31-46)
And let it be well considered, that most of the sins which are mentioned in the discourses or Christ as the ground of condemnation, are sins of omission. The slothful servant, who prepares not himself, is the wicked servant, who will be cast into outer darkness. The man who wrapped his talent in a napkin and buried it, is condemned out of his own mouth. For "to him that knows to do good," of any kind, "and does it not—to him it is sin!" James 4:17.
Many who prided themselves in their inoffensive lives and harmless behavior, will find, when the books are opened, a catalogue of omissions which will startle them with horror, and overwhelm them with confusion!
"God does not view things the way men do. People look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." 1 Samuel 16:7
"You are the ones who make yourselves look right in other people's sight, but God knows your hearts. For the things that are considered of great value by people are worth nothing in God's sight." Luke 16:15
"He Himself knew what was in their hearts." John 2:25
"Lord, you know the thoughts of everyone." Acts 1:24
"Almighty Lord, You test people justly; You know what is in their hearts and minds." Jeremiah 20:12
"You alone know the thoughts of the human heart. Deal with each person as he deserves." 1 Kings 8:39
And as externally good actions will then be examined by One who has a full view of the motives from which they proceeded, and the end which the person had in view—is it not certain that many religious actions will then appear to have been mere hypocrisy? that many actions, apparently just and benevolent, were mere efforts of pride and selfishness? and that a life moral and blameless in the eyes of men—was a mere cloak which covered a heart full of unclean lusts? Our most intimate friends here will be astonished when they see our secret iniquities and wicked motives exposed to view. The most detestable crimes will be unveiled in those who passed through life without suspicion! O how many secret murders, perjuries, thefts, blasphemies, and adulteries—will then be brought to light! How much injustice, fraud, cruelty, oppression, pride, malice, revenge will then be unveiled!
The cries of the injured, the widow, and the orphan, always enter into the ears of the Lord, and he now comes to avenge them. Cruel persecutors of God's people, though clothed in purple, and almost adored when living in the world, will now be brought to a severe account. The blood of the martyred saints from beneath the altar has been long crying out, "How long, O Lord, holy and true, do you not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?" Rev. 6:10. And now the day of retribution has arrived!
What will be the length of time occupied with the judgment we know not. It is called a day, but it will differ exceedingly from all other days; and in its duration, probably, as well as in other respects. Our wisdom is to attend to what is revealed, and to repress a vain curiosity in regard to other matters. We may rest assured that the whole process will be wisely conducted, and that complete justice will be done. The Judge of all the earth will do right! He will not condemn the innocent, nor clear the guilty. And his judgment will be most impartial. There will be no respecting of people. The king and the beggar will stand upon equal ground, and will be judged by the same standard. Those who in this world were reviled and slandered, and had no opportunity of clearing up their character, will then be vindicated, and lies and reproaches will have effect no more.
But here a serious difficulty occurs. It may be said, "If the law of God is the rule of judgment, and if all sins are brought into judgment, then certainly every human being must be condemned—'for all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.' According to this view, none can be saved. To remove this difficulty, let it be remembered, that besides the book of the law, there is another book which will be produced there, written from the foundation of the world. This is called THE BOOK OF LIFE. This contains the names—and they shall never be blotted out—of all those who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. These he has undertaken to present to God without spot or wrinkle, or any such thing. They will appear on that day clothed with the righteousness of the Redeemer. The Judge on the throne is their covenanted Surety. He answers to every accusation made against them.
But notwithstanding "there is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus;" notwithstanding none can "lay anything to the charge of God's elect;" yet they also shall be brought into judgment. When all things are prepared, and the whole assembly is collected before the solemn tribunal, a separation will be made of the great congregation into two parts, the righteous, and the wicked. The former will be placed on the right hand of the Judge, and with them he will commence. But no sooner shall their numerous sins be brought to view, than it will be made to appear that they are pardoned through the blood of Christ! When the books are opened, a long account will appear against them; but on the other hand, it will be seen that the whole is freely forgiven through the riches of grace in Christ Jesus!
But a most exact account will be taken of all their good works; and they will be mentioned to their honor, and rewarded as though no imperfection had cleaved to them! The least act of kindness done to any of Christ's followers will be magnified and rewarded as if done to Christ himself. Even the giving a cup of cold water to a disciple, in the name of a disciple, shall not lose its reward. People in the lowest state, servants and slaves, who performed their duty faithfully, shall not be forgotten in that day. "Remember that the Lord will reward each of us, whether slave or free, for the good work we do." Eph. 6:8.
But those who suffered persecution and death for righteousness' sake, will be most highly distinguished, and most signally rewarded. "Blessed are you when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad; for great is your reward in heaven!" Matt. 5:11, 12. They also who have labored much in promoting the Redeemer's kingdom, will receive a reward proportioned to their works of faith and labors of love. But none who have done good shall fail of their reward. Everyone shall receive according to what he has done; and everyone will be satisfied; for the lowest place in glory is a situation too dazzling for our present conceptions, and the whole is a matter of pure grace. These works, considered in themselves, deserve no reward. But it is the will of God that every holy desire, every good word and work, in the members of Christ's body, should receive a mark of his favor—to the honor and glory of him who is their Head, and who died for their salvation.
When the gracious sentence, "Come, you blessed, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world," is pronounced, the righteous shall be caught up to the Lord, and shall be seated by his side, and be united with him in the remaining transactions of that great day; for it is written, "The saints shall judge the world," and, "Know you not that you shall judge angels?"
The case of the righteous being disposed of, then will come the awful transaction of pronouncing sentence on the wicked. They will, indeed, have anticipated the sentence. By this time they will be certain of their doom; but the scene itself will far exceed all apprehensions before entertained. To behold the face of inflexible justice turned towards them—to hear the irreversible sentence of condemnation, and that too from the mouth of the benevolent Son of God—to feel in the inmost soul the justice of the sentence—to be as certain of everlasting damnation as they are of existence—are things concerning which we can speak now, but of which we can form but very feeble conceptions, compared with the dreadful reality. In all his existence there will probably be no moment in which the sinner's anguish will be so poignant as in this, when the Judge shall say, "Depart, you cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels!" Matt. 25:41.
Every word in this tremendous denunciation will pierce through the soul with more insufferable pain than ten thousand daggers. It is reasonable to think that every person against whom it is pronounced, will endure as much misery at that moment as in the nature of things is possible. And if this were all, the prospect would be appalling; but to be doomed to endless misery in fire, with the devil and his angels!—who can bear the thought without horror and dismay? Yet, as sure as God is true, will this sentence be executed on every impenitent sinner. Men may reason and cavil now, but then every mouth shall be stopped. That the cry of despair and horror will be heard through the great multitude, is certain—such a great and bitter cry as was never heard before. But it is all in vain; repentance comes too late. The day of grace is forever past. The gospel dispensation is ended. This is the consummation of all things.
No change in condition can ever be expected. Those who are saved, have their salvation secured by the oath and promise of God; and those who are lost, have their damnation sealed forever and ever by a judicial sentence which can never be revoked. And from this sentence there is no appeal. There is no higher tribunal to which the cause may be transferred. Neither can any resistance be made to the execution of the sentence. Those who are now bold and daring in their blasphemies and rebellion, will then find that they are in the hands of a sin-avenging God. It will belong to the holy angels, who are mighty in power, to execute the sentence of the Judge. "So shall it be," said our blessed Savior, "at the end of the world: the angels shall come forth, and sever the wicked from among the just, and shall cast them into the furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth." Matt. 13:49, 50. And it will be as impossible to escape as to resist. The rocks and mountains will not cover them. They cannot cease to exist. Go where they will, God is there to execute deserved wrath upon them. They will therefore be obliged "to go away into everlasting punishment." Matt. 25:46.
The devil and his angels will also be judged on that day; but of the particular nature of the trial we are not informed. All that we know is, that "the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their own habitation, he has reserved in everlasting chains under darkness unto the judgment of the great day." Jude, ver. 6. They are now miserable, but their cup is not full; therefore they cried out when they saw Jesus, "Have you come to torment us before the time?" Matt. 8:29. At the breaking up of this great assembly, the present system of the world will be destroyed. For "the present heavens and earth are held in store for fire, being kept until the day of judgment and destruction of ungodly men." 2 Pet. 3:7.
Reader, deeply fix in your mind the certainty and importance of the transactions of this last, great day. Meditate upon it as a reality in which you have a momentous interest. Let every other day, as it passes, put you in mind of this in which all others will end. Consider also that it draws near. Every moment bears us on towards the great tribunal. Mockers may say, Where is the promise of his coming? "But the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night; in which the heavens will pass away with a great noise, and the elements will be dissolved with fervent heat, and the earth and the works that are in it will be burned up." 2 Pet. 3:10.
O reader, whoever you are, let me entreat you to inquire without delay, whether you are prepared for the scrutiny and judgment of this coming day. Have you made your peace with God? Have you repented of all your sins? Are you in union with Christ by faith? Have you any clear scriptural evidence that your sins are pardoned? What says conscience to these inquiries? Be assured, if your own heart condemns you, God, who is greater than your heart, and knows all things, will much more condemn you. But your situation is not like that of them whose day of grace is ended. You are yet in the place of reconciliation. You have yet a little time before you—God only knows how much. Now, then, hear the voice of warning! Hear the voice of mercy! Now "strive to enter in at the strait gate." Now forsake your sins, and live! Accept the offered grace—"lay hold on eternal life!"
Let no consideration induce you to delay your conversion. The importance of salvation—the uncertainty of life—the danger of provoking the Holy Spirit to abandon you—the example of thousands who have perished by procrastination—should urge you to lose no time, but to fall in with the gracious invitation of the gospel. But if you will refuse, then prepare to meet an angry God! Harden yourself against the terrors of the Almighty; summon all your fortitude to bear your dreadful doom from the Judge of living and dead. But I refrain—there is no fortitude or patience in hell.
Reader, are you advanced in years? Let your gray hairs and pains and wrinkles admonish you that you are near to judgment; for what if death intervene, yet after death all preparation is impossible. Just as death leaves us—so will judgment find us—and keep us. "In the place where the tree falls, there it shall lie." Eccl. 11:3. Consider also that the number of your sins is in proportion to the number of your days. Long life will prove a dreadful curse to those who die in their sins!
But if you are in youth, or in the vigor of manhood, remember that your life is a vapor; that most men do not live out half their days; and that of those who shall appear before the judgment, comparatively few will have finished their course of threescore years and ten. "Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth." Eccl. 12:1. "Behold, the Judge stands before the door!" James 5:9. Others have been suddenly taken away from your side. They also intended to make preparation hereafter; but while they were pleasing themselves with the prospect of many years, and were saying, "Soul, you have many goods laid up for many years. Take your ease, eat, drink, be merry!" God said, "You fool, this night your soul shall be required of you!" "Be therefore ready also, for at such an hour as you think not, the Son of man comes."
"Behold, the axe is laid at the root of the tree," and now perhaps you are spared, on account of the prayer of some kind intercessor, for one year. This, for anything you know, may be your last year. If so, it behooves you to make good use of your time and privileges. Let the idea of the judgment be ever before your mind. There you must appear—there you must stand and render up your account—there you must be filled with overwhelming shame and terror—there you must hear the awful final sentence, which will fix your doom irreversibly, unless by a speedy repentance, and by faith in Jesus Christ, you flee from the wrath to come!
May God, of his infinite mercy, cause the truths which you have read in this tract to sink deeply into your mind; and by the light of his Holy Spirit lead you to just views of your own condition, and to saving views of the Lord Jesus Christ—the only Redeemer of lost sinners! Amen.
YOU FOOL!
by Archibald Alexander
"You fool, this night your soul shall be required of you!" What harsh language, some will be ready to say. But it is true; and the occasion requires all earnestness. If you see your neighbor's house on fire, while he is sound asleep in his bed, you do not hesitate to alarm him with the most penetrating cry that you can utter. The reason in both cases is of the same nature, but much stronger in the latter, because the loss of the soul is infinitely greater than that of the body; the fires of hell are much more to be dreaded than any material fire, which can only destroy property, or at most, shorten life.
But why is this man called a fool? Surely he was not such in the world's estimation. He evidently possessed the wisdom of this world. He knew how to manage his farm successfully. If there was any defect in this respect, it was in not building his barns large enough at first. Often enterprising, industrious men run far before their own anticipations. Wealth flows in upon them, so that they have more than heart could wish. This man, no doubt, had labored hard, but now thinks of taking his rest, and entering on the enjoyment of his rich possessions. He said to his soul, "Take it easy, eat, drink, and enjoy yourself!" No cloud appeared in all his horizon to darken his prospects. His expectation was, not only rest from labor, and ease from trouble; but actual enjoyment in feasting, and unceasing mirth.
The course of this farmer and his success are the very objects at which thousands are constantly aiming. They look no higher; they ask no more than he possessed. How then was he a fool? Will not the epithet apply as truly to most of the people in the world? If this present world were our only state of existence, it would be hard to prove the folly of such a course and such sentiments. Then men might with some show of reason say, "Let us eat and drink--for tomorrow we die." If this were all of man, and death the end of existence, the scene will so soon be over, and all joys and sorrows so soon buried in eternal oblivion. If there were no hereafter, of what account would it now be, whether the thousands of millions who have inhabited this globe were sad or merry while they lived?
The utter folly of this worldling, and of thousands like him, consisted in this--that being the creature of a supreme Being, he neglected to serve him, and took no pains to secure his favor, or to arrest his wrath. The folly of this he must have felt when God spoke to him and said, "This night your soul shall be required of you!" Oh, what a sudden interruption to his plans of future pleasure. What! Must he give up all his possessions—his fields loaded with ripe harvests, the fruit of his anxious toil? In a moment his fond dream of feasting and mirth is terminated. God, his Maker, calls for him, and none can resist his command. "And who knows the power of his anger?" His soul is required. His account, whether prepared or unprepared, must be rendered. "Give an account of your stewardship." Show in what manner you have improved the talents committed to you. What good use have you made of the riches conferred on you?
Poor, wretched man; what can he say for himself? What justification can he offer for a life of disobedience and forgetfulness of God? Where now can he turn? Where can he flee for refuge from his angry Judge? Alas, there is no escape! His riches cannot profit him now. The whole world could not redeem his soul from destruction; and while his heirs are striving about his great wealth, his soul is writhing in unending anguish! Careless reader, take heed lest this be your case! You are in the same condemnation!
"You fool, this night your soul shall be required of you!" What harsh language, some will be ready to say. But it is true; and the occasion requires all earnestness. If you see your neighbor's house on fire, while he is sound asleep in his bed, you do not hesitate to alarm him with the most penetrating cry that you can utter. The reason in both cases is of the same nature, but much stronger in the latter, because the loss of the soul is infinitely greater than that of the body; the fires of hell are much more to be dreaded than any material fire, which can only destroy property, or at most, shorten life.
But why is this man called a fool? Surely he was not such in the world's estimation. He evidently possessed the wisdom of this world. He knew how to manage his farm successfully. If there was any defect in this respect, it was in not building his barns large enough at first. Often enterprising, industrious men run far before their own anticipations. Wealth flows in upon them, so that they have more than heart could wish. This man, no doubt, had labored hard, but now thinks of taking his rest, and entering on the enjoyment of his rich possessions. He said to his soul, "Take it easy, eat, drink, and enjoy yourself!" No cloud appeared in all his horizon to darken his prospects. His expectation was, not only rest from labor, and ease from trouble; but actual enjoyment in feasting, and unceasing mirth.
The course of this farmer and his success are the very objects at which thousands are constantly aiming. They look no higher; they ask no more than he possessed. How then was he a fool? Will not the epithet apply as truly to most of the people in the world? If this present world were our only state of existence, it would be hard to prove the folly of such a course and such sentiments. Then men might with some show of reason say, "Let us eat and drink--for tomorrow we die." If this were all of man, and death the end of existence, the scene will so soon be over, and all joys and sorrows so soon buried in eternal oblivion. If there were no hereafter, of what account would it now be, whether the thousands of millions who have inhabited this globe were sad or merry while they lived?
The utter folly of this worldling, and of thousands like him, consisted in this--that being the creature of a supreme Being, he neglected to serve him, and took no pains to secure his favor, or to arrest his wrath. The folly of this he must have felt when God spoke to him and said, "This night your soul shall be required of you!" Oh, what a sudden interruption to his plans of future pleasure. What! Must he give up all his possessions—his fields loaded with ripe harvests, the fruit of his anxious toil? In a moment his fond dream of feasting and mirth is terminated. God, his Maker, calls for him, and none can resist his command. "And who knows the power of his anger?" His soul is required. His account, whether prepared or unprepared, must be rendered. "Give an account of your stewardship." Show in what manner you have improved the talents committed to you. What good use have you made of the riches conferred on you?
Poor, wretched man; what can he say for himself? What justification can he offer for a life of disobedience and forgetfulness of God? Where now can he turn? Where can he flee for refuge from his angry Judge? Alas, there is no escape! His riches cannot profit him now. The whole world could not redeem his soul from destruction; and while his heirs are striving about his great wealth, his soul is writhing in unending anguish! Careless reader, take heed lest this be your case! You are in the same condemnation!
THE MISERY OF THE LOST
by Archibald Alexander
The soul of man is susceptible of an intense degree of unhappiness. Even in this world much misery is endured; but in the world to come, hope is a stranger, and there are no alleviating circumstances.
The misery of the damned has by theologians been divided into that of loss and that of sense—the one produced by the loss of good possessed or once attainable, the other arising from the positive infliction of punishment. But though this distinction has a foundation as it relates to the cause of the sinner's misery, yet, as it regards the feeling itself, there is no reason for making any distinction. All misery is felt according to its nature and intensity, and therefore is pain of sense, or sensible pain, whatever may be its cause. So the question whether the fire of hell is a material fire, is of no importance; for if I feel a pang of misery at any moment, it matters nothing whether it is produced by a material or immaterial, by a privative or positive cause.
Under the general name of misery, many species of suffering are included; all, however, agreeing in this, that the sensation is painful. The feeling of fear is a very painful emotion, but in its nature very different from remorse. Excessive pain, in our present state, may be experienced through the nerves of sensation; but even here these sufferings differ, not only in degree, but in kind. The headache, toothache, and rheumatism, are all, severe pains, but they are not the same; and these bodily pains differ exceedingly from the feelings of remorse, or despair.
Our capacity of pain seems to bear an exact proportion to our susceptibility of pleasure. Indeed, the same faculties and affections which are the sources of our happiness when the objects suited to them are possessed, become the causes of our misery when deprived of those objects. By the same faculty we perceive the beauties and the deformities of objects; the same moral sense is the instrument of the most exalted and soul-satisfying pleasure, and of the most intolerable anguish of which the soul is capable. Every affection and appetite affords pleasure when duly exercised on its proper object; but deprived of this, becomes a source of intense pain.
Though the nature of future misery to all lost souls is the same, yet the degree may differ to an extent which no man can estimate. Some divines have maintained that the future happiness of the righteous will be equal, as eternal life is the free gift of God; but none, I believe, have ever held that the punishment of the lost will be equal. The Scriptures abundantly teach that every man will be judged according to the deeds done in the body; and as the sins of different individuals are immensely different in guilt, justice demands that their punishment should be proportioned to the demerit of the sinner. Our Savior most explicitly teaches this doctrine when he says, "That servant who knew his master's will, and prepared not himself, shall be beaten with many stripes; but he who knew not his master's will, and yet committed things worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with few stripes."
The guilt of sin is not measured merely or principally by the external act, but by the light and advantages enjoyed by some above others. The difference between sins against light and sins of ignorance, is a matter concerning which common-sense gives a judgment consonant with the rule laid down by our Lord. It does not appear that the cities of Galilee, where Christ spent most of his time, and where he wrought most of his beneficent miracles, were remarkable for external acts of immorality; and yet their sins were greater than those of cities proverbial for their wickedness, and consequently their punishment would be greater. His words should never be forgotten: Then He proceeded to denounce the towns where most of His miracles were done, because they did not repent: "Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the miracles that were done in you had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented in sackcloth and ashes long ago! But I tell you, it will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon on the day of judgment than for you. And you, Capernaum, will you be exalted to heaven? You will go down to Hell. For if the miracles that were done in you had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until today. But I tell you, it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom on the day of judgment than for you." (Matthew 11:20-24)
These are words of dreadful import, and are as applicable to neglectors of the gospel and impenitent sinners now, as to those devoted cities. Many, because their external conduct is decent and moral, persuade themselves that their punishment will be light; but in view of the words cited above, it will be far more tolerable for the vilest of the heathen than for them, if they continue in their impenitence and neglect of the great salvation. Certainly gospel-neglectors, however decent in their external behavior, will sink very deep into the abyss of misery. Among these, however, there will be a great difference. Some, alas, who sinned malignantly against light, will sink to the lowest gulf in hell.
To describe the extreme misery of lost souls is painful, both to the writer and the reader. If we would give way to our sympathies and compassionate feelings, we would not only exclude this awful subject from our discourses, but from our creed. Indeed, it must be acknowledged that it occasions a conflict to reconcile our reason to the reality of such intense and interminable sufferings as are described in the word of God; and plausible arguments, derived from the goodness of God, might be constructed against the doctrine of so great future misery. But all such arguments would operate equally against the existence of sin and misery in this world, which, alas, are known too well to be facts which none can deny, and of which every individual is a witness.
When God speaks, human reason and sentimental feelings should be silent. He knows what justice demands, and what can be done consistently with his attributes; but man is of yesterday, and knows nothing. Suppose a child five or six years old should undertake to sit in judgment on the acts of government, and to decide whether its penal laws were just or unjust, and whether capital punishments ought to be inflicted on murderers, or whether a war was just and necessary; who would expect a correct judgment from an infant? But such a child is better qualified to decide on the most complicated schemes of human policy, than man to judge of the propriety of the divine administration.
Impenitent men are apt to harden themselves against the awful denunciations of divine wrath contained in the Bible, and to cherish unkind feelings towards the ministers who bring out plainly and authoritatively the doctrine of the New Testament on this subject. And it cannot be denied, that some preachers denounce the terrors of the law against transgressors in a style and manner adapted rather to irritate than to convince. They speak almost as if they took pleasure in these awful threatenings, and as if they had nothing to fear for themselves. No doubt many a zealous preacher has passed sentence on himself, and has actually suffered those torments which he denounced against others!
I am therefore disposed to present this subject in a light which cannot give offence. Instead of representing the danger to which others are exposed, I will make the case my own. It behooves me to "tremble at the word of the Lord," as much as others; and as I am a sinner, and therefore naturally subject to the penalty of the law, and liable to be misled by the deceitfulness of my heart to cherish false hopes, I will endeavor to realize to myself the feelings which I shall experience, if it should be my unhappy lot to die out of the favor of God.
It would seem that THE FIRST MOMENT AFTER DEATH must be one of unparalleled misery. My first reflection would be,
"I am lost forever—all hope of happiness or relief is gone from my miserable soul! The blackness of darkness is round about me! No ray of light dawns on my wretched soul! Despair, terrible despair has now seized upon me, and must blacken every prospect to all eternity! While in the world, I could contrive to turn away my thoughts from the disagreeable subject; but now, my misery, like a heavy burden, presses on me, and is ever present—go where I will, do what I will.
"While in the body, and engaged in secular pursuits, I entertained a secret hope that there might be some mistake respecting the extreme misery of the damned, or that there might possibly be some way of escape not revealed; but now all these idle notions have fled like a dream when one awakes. I find hell to be no fable, but a dreadful reality. I find that the preachers, so far from exaggerating the misery of the lost, had no adequate conception of the wretchedness of a soul cast off from God forever, and doomed to dwell in everlasting burnings! Oh horrible! Horrible! I am then undone—forever undone! In all former distresses I could cry for mercy; but now I have passed beyond the reach of mercy!
"For the sake of momentary enjoyments, and worthless riches and honors, I have bartered away my soul. Accursed folly! What benefit can I now derive from those earthly pleasures and possessions? They only serve as fuel to the flames which consume me. O for one drop of water to cool my tongue! But for this I beg in vain. The time for prayer and for mercy has gone by, and my soul is lost, lost, lost! And through eternity I must expect no deliverance, no relief, nor even the slightest mitigation of my misery! Woe, woe, woe is me! It had been infinitely better for me never to have been born!
"If I had not enjoyed the offers of the gospel, if pardon and reconciliation had not been within my reach, and often urged upon me, my anguish would not be so excruciating. But this it is which wrings my heart with unspeakable anguish—that I might have escaped all this misery! Had it not been for my own sin and folly, I might before now have been in heaven. Others who heard the same sermons, and belonged to the same family, are now in eternal glory—while I am tormented in this flame! Oh that I could cease to be; but to fly from existence is impossible.
"Here I am surrounded by wretches as miserable as myself, but their company rather aggravates than mitigates my soul's anguish. I am reproached and cursed by all who were ever led by my counsel or example into the ways of iniquity. They dreadfully scowl upon me.
"And the fiends of the pit, who were my seducers, now combine to taunt me with my folly. They never had the offers of mercy. The merits of a dying Savior were never offered to them. They seem to entertain a malignant pleasure—if pleasure it can be called—in witnessing my extreme misery. O wretched man, where can I flee? Is there no possible escape from this prison of despair? Can no one ever pass the gulf which separates this dismal abode from the regions of the blessed? None! None!
"Oh, if there could be a suicide of the soul, how happy would I be to escape from existence, and to plunge into the gulf of 'annihilation', which once seemed horrible to my apprehension, but now desirable. This would be an oblivion of all my misery. But in vain do I seek to die. Death flies from me. And here I see those deluded souls who, by doing violence to their own lives, vainly dreamed that they were escaping from misery; but alas, from a burden which with faith and patience might have been borne—they have leaped into a fiery furnace! They are now convinced of the dreadful sin and folly of suicide, but they cannot repeat the act here!
"May I hope that time will lessen the horrors and anguish of my wretched soul? Will my heart, so susceptible of the emotions of bitter anguish, by degrees become less sensible to these piercing pains, and be more able to bear up under this overwhelming weight of misery? This question can only be solved by experience: let me ask someone who has been suffering for thousands of years.
"Here comes Cain the first murderer, who is known still by having upon him the stain of a brother's blood. Suppose I speak to him—'Tell me, fellow-prisoner, who have long endured the pains of this infernal prison, whether by long continuance these miseries become more tolerable?' But why do I ask? the wretched fratricide is evidently writhing in keenest anguish. He is too miserable to speak, and too full of malignity to gratify anyone. His guilty stain—the blood-spot—has not been burnt out by the fiercest fires of hell. No! see, he defies the Almighty. He blasphemes the God of heaven. He asks for no mitigation of his punishment now. His malignant, fiery spirit feeds on despair, and challenges his Avenger to do his worst.
"Oh, then, I see there is a progression in wickedness even in hell. This is the most appalling prospect of all—an endless progression in sin, and consequently an increase, instead of a diminution of misery, through the endless ages of eternity!"
Another dreadful point in the existence of the damned, will be THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. Great as is the misery of a lost soul when separated from the body, this is probably small when compared with the exceeding weight of misery which shall overtake it at the day of judgment. I must then endeavor to imagine what will be my feelings if I should be found on the left hand on that dreadful day.
As here in this present world, a large portion of our pleasures and pains are experienced through the body, I know no reason why it should not be so in the future world. Certainly the disembodied spirit is capable of none of these pains or pleasures. It seems reasonable to conclude, therefore, that the bodies of the damned will be so constructed as to be inlets to excruciating pains; just as the bodies of the saints will be instruments of refined, celestial pleasures. The whole person is not complete without the body, and therefore the final sentence of condemnation will not be denounced until the body—the same body—is raised from the dead, and reunited to the soul; that having been partners in wickedness, they may be associated in enduring the deserved punishment of the deeds done in the body!
The state of the lost soul before the judgment, may be compared to that of a criminal confined in prison waiting for his trial. Let me then imagine myself to have died unreconciled and impenitent. At an unexpected time the sound of the last trumpet will be heard; and as it is the last trumpet, so it will be the loudest. The departed spirits confined in prison shall hear it, and their bodies, long crumbled to dust, shall hear it; and I shall certainly hear that awful, deeply penetrating sound, and I shall come forth—coerced by an irresistible power! I shall again be clothed with a body; but O, what sort of a body!
Among millions of millions I am forced to appear. O what solemn majesty in the Judge, now coming with all his holy angels—now seated on his great white throne. Solemn moment! The books are opened. There all my crimes of thought, word, and deed, are recorded—sins of omission as well as commission. O for a hiding-place under the rocks or caves! But no! I must appear—I must hear my sentence of condemnation and banishment. The misery of an age seems condensed into this moment. The tremendous sentence comes forth, "Depart, you cursed one, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." Imagination fails—I can write no more! Experience must teach the rest.
The misery of those who are eternally lost, cannot be adequately conceived, much less expressed. It cannot be exaggerated by any description; and this will be manifest if we consider WHAT THEY KNOW THEY HAVE LOST.
All the good things which they enjoyed in this life they must leave behind. All their riches, honors, and sensual pleasures are left at death; and for these there will be no substitute in eternity. The wicked cravings of the immortal soul will continue, but there will be no longer any objects to gratify them; for lack of which, like some venomous creatures when wounded, they will turn and prey upon themselves.
A soul with its active powers and passions, must be miserable if deprived of all objects suited to its gratification. We know scarcely any misery on earth more intolerable than a human being perishing for lack of bread or water. Hunger and thirst, if not seasonably gratified, are the sources of most excruciating pain. And the soul can never lose its desire of happiness. How miserable, then, must it be when this insatiable desire meets with nothing to gratify it. It is strongly represented by our Savior in the case of the rich man in hell, who cried for one drop of water, and said, "I am tormented in this flame." The soul of the sinner will be its own chief tormentor. It is possible that all the torment experienced in hell, will be the natural consequence of sin.
Evil passions are in their very nature attended with misery; for as benevolent affections are pleasant—so malevolent feelings are accompanied with misery. Here in this present world, these evil passions are held under restraint; and while we are in the body, there are instinctive natural affections which counteract the wicked feelings which exist in the depraved heart; but in eternity all restraint will be removed, and the native wickedness of the heart will act itself out: there are no natural affections there—all will be unmixed malice, envy, and wickedness. Let any person who is totally depraved be abandoned to himself—and he must be miserable! His own passions will become his everlasting tormentors. He will carry a hell in his own bosom!
But of all feelings of misery, none is so intolerable as REMORSE. The conscience, or moral faculty, as it is the principal source of the most pure and sublime enjoyment to the righteous; so it is, to the lost, the scorpion which will forever sting the soul with inexpressible anguish! The consciousness of having done wrong, of having sinned against God, and of being the cause of our own destruction—is a kind of hell as dreadful as any of which we can conceive. The lost soul will forever have the conviction clearly impressed—that it is its own destroyer—and that heaven with all its joys has been lost by its own sinful folly and neglect!
And the bitterest ingredient of all in the cup of misery is despair—black endless despair! Oh, if there was the most distant hope of release at some future period, it would mitigate the anguish of the suffering sinner. But hellish despair admits of no alleviation.
Men may here 'dream' of a deliverance from hell after a long time of suffering, but the delusion will vanish as soon as they enter eternity. They will then find that the word of God, which denounced eternal destruction on impenitent sinners, was not a vain threat; that God will not spare the guilty, but will punish them with everlasting destruction—just as He said He would.
O my soul, consider now how you will be able to endure such misery as must be experienced by all the lost, but especially by those who enjoyed the light of the gospel. Can you fortify yourself against all this misery? Will you be able to endure it with patience? Only imagine your condition millions of ages hence. Still writhing in anguish—still belching out horrid blasphemies—still covered with the blackness of darkness—still without a ray of hope! Not a moment's ease during this long period. O my soul, will you not make one vigorous effort to escape so great misery? Will you not strive to flee from the wrath to come? Life, eternal life, is still within your reach! Lay hold on the prize! Press on to the kingdom. Take refuge in the cross, and you will be safe!
"Since, therefore, we have now been justified by His blood, much more shall we be saved by Him from the wrath of God!" (Romans 5:9)
"For God did not appoint us to wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ!" (1 Thessalonians 5:9)
The soul of man is susceptible of an intense degree of unhappiness. Even in this world much misery is endured; but in the world to come, hope is a stranger, and there are no alleviating circumstances.
The misery of the damned has by theologians been divided into that of loss and that of sense—the one produced by the loss of good possessed or once attainable, the other arising from the positive infliction of punishment. But though this distinction has a foundation as it relates to the cause of the sinner's misery, yet, as it regards the feeling itself, there is no reason for making any distinction. All misery is felt according to its nature and intensity, and therefore is pain of sense, or sensible pain, whatever may be its cause. So the question whether the fire of hell is a material fire, is of no importance; for if I feel a pang of misery at any moment, it matters nothing whether it is produced by a material or immaterial, by a privative or positive cause.
Under the general name of misery, many species of suffering are included; all, however, agreeing in this, that the sensation is painful. The feeling of fear is a very painful emotion, but in its nature very different from remorse. Excessive pain, in our present state, may be experienced through the nerves of sensation; but even here these sufferings differ, not only in degree, but in kind. The headache, toothache, and rheumatism, are all, severe pains, but they are not the same; and these bodily pains differ exceedingly from the feelings of remorse, or despair.
Our capacity of pain seems to bear an exact proportion to our susceptibility of pleasure. Indeed, the same faculties and affections which are the sources of our happiness when the objects suited to them are possessed, become the causes of our misery when deprived of those objects. By the same faculty we perceive the beauties and the deformities of objects; the same moral sense is the instrument of the most exalted and soul-satisfying pleasure, and of the most intolerable anguish of which the soul is capable. Every affection and appetite affords pleasure when duly exercised on its proper object; but deprived of this, becomes a source of intense pain.
Though the nature of future misery to all lost souls is the same, yet the degree may differ to an extent which no man can estimate. Some divines have maintained that the future happiness of the righteous will be equal, as eternal life is the free gift of God; but none, I believe, have ever held that the punishment of the lost will be equal. The Scriptures abundantly teach that every man will be judged according to the deeds done in the body; and as the sins of different individuals are immensely different in guilt, justice demands that their punishment should be proportioned to the demerit of the sinner. Our Savior most explicitly teaches this doctrine when he says, "That servant who knew his master's will, and prepared not himself, shall be beaten with many stripes; but he who knew not his master's will, and yet committed things worthy of stripes, shall be beaten with few stripes."
The guilt of sin is not measured merely or principally by the external act, but by the light and advantages enjoyed by some above others. The difference between sins against light and sins of ignorance, is a matter concerning which common-sense gives a judgment consonant with the rule laid down by our Lord. It does not appear that the cities of Galilee, where Christ spent most of his time, and where he wrought most of his beneficent miracles, were remarkable for external acts of immorality; and yet their sins were greater than those of cities proverbial for their wickedness, and consequently their punishment would be greater. His words should never be forgotten: Then He proceeded to denounce the towns where most of His miracles were done, because they did not repent: "Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the miracles that were done in you had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented in sackcloth and ashes long ago! But I tell you, it will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon on the day of judgment than for you. And you, Capernaum, will you be exalted to heaven? You will go down to Hell. For if the miracles that were done in you had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until today. But I tell you, it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom on the day of judgment than for you." (Matthew 11:20-24)
These are words of dreadful import, and are as applicable to neglectors of the gospel and impenitent sinners now, as to those devoted cities. Many, because their external conduct is decent and moral, persuade themselves that their punishment will be light; but in view of the words cited above, it will be far more tolerable for the vilest of the heathen than for them, if they continue in their impenitence and neglect of the great salvation. Certainly gospel-neglectors, however decent in their external behavior, will sink very deep into the abyss of misery. Among these, however, there will be a great difference. Some, alas, who sinned malignantly against light, will sink to the lowest gulf in hell.
To describe the extreme misery of lost souls is painful, both to the writer and the reader. If we would give way to our sympathies and compassionate feelings, we would not only exclude this awful subject from our discourses, but from our creed. Indeed, it must be acknowledged that it occasions a conflict to reconcile our reason to the reality of such intense and interminable sufferings as are described in the word of God; and plausible arguments, derived from the goodness of God, might be constructed against the doctrine of so great future misery. But all such arguments would operate equally against the existence of sin and misery in this world, which, alas, are known too well to be facts which none can deny, and of which every individual is a witness.
When God speaks, human reason and sentimental feelings should be silent. He knows what justice demands, and what can be done consistently with his attributes; but man is of yesterday, and knows nothing. Suppose a child five or six years old should undertake to sit in judgment on the acts of government, and to decide whether its penal laws were just or unjust, and whether capital punishments ought to be inflicted on murderers, or whether a war was just and necessary; who would expect a correct judgment from an infant? But such a child is better qualified to decide on the most complicated schemes of human policy, than man to judge of the propriety of the divine administration.
Impenitent men are apt to harden themselves against the awful denunciations of divine wrath contained in the Bible, and to cherish unkind feelings towards the ministers who bring out plainly and authoritatively the doctrine of the New Testament on this subject. And it cannot be denied, that some preachers denounce the terrors of the law against transgressors in a style and manner adapted rather to irritate than to convince. They speak almost as if they took pleasure in these awful threatenings, and as if they had nothing to fear for themselves. No doubt many a zealous preacher has passed sentence on himself, and has actually suffered those torments which he denounced against others!
I am therefore disposed to present this subject in a light which cannot give offence. Instead of representing the danger to which others are exposed, I will make the case my own. It behooves me to "tremble at the word of the Lord," as much as others; and as I am a sinner, and therefore naturally subject to the penalty of the law, and liable to be misled by the deceitfulness of my heart to cherish false hopes, I will endeavor to realize to myself the feelings which I shall experience, if it should be my unhappy lot to die out of the favor of God.
It would seem that THE FIRST MOMENT AFTER DEATH must be one of unparalleled misery. My first reflection would be,
"I am lost forever—all hope of happiness or relief is gone from my miserable soul! The blackness of darkness is round about me! No ray of light dawns on my wretched soul! Despair, terrible despair has now seized upon me, and must blacken every prospect to all eternity! While in the world, I could contrive to turn away my thoughts from the disagreeable subject; but now, my misery, like a heavy burden, presses on me, and is ever present—go where I will, do what I will.
"While in the body, and engaged in secular pursuits, I entertained a secret hope that there might be some mistake respecting the extreme misery of the damned, or that there might possibly be some way of escape not revealed; but now all these idle notions have fled like a dream when one awakes. I find hell to be no fable, but a dreadful reality. I find that the preachers, so far from exaggerating the misery of the lost, had no adequate conception of the wretchedness of a soul cast off from God forever, and doomed to dwell in everlasting burnings! Oh horrible! Horrible! I am then undone—forever undone! In all former distresses I could cry for mercy; but now I have passed beyond the reach of mercy!
"For the sake of momentary enjoyments, and worthless riches and honors, I have bartered away my soul. Accursed folly! What benefit can I now derive from those earthly pleasures and possessions? They only serve as fuel to the flames which consume me. O for one drop of water to cool my tongue! But for this I beg in vain. The time for prayer and for mercy has gone by, and my soul is lost, lost, lost! And through eternity I must expect no deliverance, no relief, nor even the slightest mitigation of my misery! Woe, woe, woe is me! It had been infinitely better for me never to have been born!
"If I had not enjoyed the offers of the gospel, if pardon and reconciliation had not been within my reach, and often urged upon me, my anguish would not be so excruciating. But this it is which wrings my heart with unspeakable anguish—that I might have escaped all this misery! Had it not been for my own sin and folly, I might before now have been in heaven. Others who heard the same sermons, and belonged to the same family, are now in eternal glory—while I am tormented in this flame! Oh that I could cease to be; but to fly from existence is impossible.
"Here I am surrounded by wretches as miserable as myself, but their company rather aggravates than mitigates my soul's anguish. I am reproached and cursed by all who were ever led by my counsel or example into the ways of iniquity. They dreadfully scowl upon me.
"And the fiends of the pit, who were my seducers, now combine to taunt me with my folly. They never had the offers of mercy. The merits of a dying Savior were never offered to them. They seem to entertain a malignant pleasure—if pleasure it can be called—in witnessing my extreme misery. O wretched man, where can I flee? Is there no possible escape from this prison of despair? Can no one ever pass the gulf which separates this dismal abode from the regions of the blessed? None! None!
"Oh, if there could be a suicide of the soul, how happy would I be to escape from existence, and to plunge into the gulf of 'annihilation', which once seemed horrible to my apprehension, but now desirable. This would be an oblivion of all my misery. But in vain do I seek to die. Death flies from me. And here I see those deluded souls who, by doing violence to their own lives, vainly dreamed that they were escaping from misery; but alas, from a burden which with faith and patience might have been borne—they have leaped into a fiery furnace! They are now convinced of the dreadful sin and folly of suicide, but they cannot repeat the act here!
"May I hope that time will lessen the horrors and anguish of my wretched soul? Will my heart, so susceptible of the emotions of bitter anguish, by degrees become less sensible to these piercing pains, and be more able to bear up under this overwhelming weight of misery? This question can only be solved by experience: let me ask someone who has been suffering for thousands of years.
"Here comes Cain the first murderer, who is known still by having upon him the stain of a brother's blood. Suppose I speak to him—'Tell me, fellow-prisoner, who have long endured the pains of this infernal prison, whether by long continuance these miseries become more tolerable?' But why do I ask? the wretched fratricide is evidently writhing in keenest anguish. He is too miserable to speak, and too full of malignity to gratify anyone. His guilty stain—the blood-spot—has not been burnt out by the fiercest fires of hell. No! see, he defies the Almighty. He blasphemes the God of heaven. He asks for no mitigation of his punishment now. His malignant, fiery spirit feeds on despair, and challenges his Avenger to do his worst.
"Oh, then, I see there is a progression in wickedness even in hell. This is the most appalling prospect of all—an endless progression in sin, and consequently an increase, instead of a diminution of misery, through the endless ages of eternity!"
Another dreadful point in the existence of the damned, will be THE DAY OF JUDGMENT. Great as is the misery of a lost soul when separated from the body, this is probably small when compared with the exceeding weight of misery which shall overtake it at the day of judgment. I must then endeavor to imagine what will be my feelings if I should be found on the left hand on that dreadful day.
As here in this present world, a large portion of our pleasures and pains are experienced through the body, I know no reason why it should not be so in the future world. Certainly the disembodied spirit is capable of none of these pains or pleasures. It seems reasonable to conclude, therefore, that the bodies of the damned will be so constructed as to be inlets to excruciating pains; just as the bodies of the saints will be instruments of refined, celestial pleasures. The whole person is not complete without the body, and therefore the final sentence of condemnation will not be denounced until the body—the same body—is raised from the dead, and reunited to the soul; that having been partners in wickedness, they may be associated in enduring the deserved punishment of the deeds done in the body!
The state of the lost soul before the judgment, may be compared to that of a criminal confined in prison waiting for his trial. Let me then imagine myself to have died unreconciled and impenitent. At an unexpected time the sound of the last trumpet will be heard; and as it is the last trumpet, so it will be the loudest. The departed spirits confined in prison shall hear it, and their bodies, long crumbled to dust, shall hear it; and I shall certainly hear that awful, deeply penetrating sound, and I shall come forth—coerced by an irresistible power! I shall again be clothed with a body; but O, what sort of a body!
Among millions of millions I am forced to appear. O what solemn majesty in the Judge, now coming with all his holy angels—now seated on his great white throne. Solemn moment! The books are opened. There all my crimes of thought, word, and deed, are recorded—sins of omission as well as commission. O for a hiding-place under the rocks or caves! But no! I must appear—I must hear my sentence of condemnation and banishment. The misery of an age seems condensed into this moment. The tremendous sentence comes forth, "Depart, you cursed one, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." Imagination fails—I can write no more! Experience must teach the rest.
The misery of those who are eternally lost, cannot be adequately conceived, much less expressed. It cannot be exaggerated by any description; and this will be manifest if we consider WHAT THEY KNOW THEY HAVE LOST.
All the good things which they enjoyed in this life they must leave behind. All their riches, honors, and sensual pleasures are left at death; and for these there will be no substitute in eternity. The wicked cravings of the immortal soul will continue, but there will be no longer any objects to gratify them; for lack of which, like some venomous creatures when wounded, they will turn and prey upon themselves.
A soul with its active powers and passions, must be miserable if deprived of all objects suited to its gratification. We know scarcely any misery on earth more intolerable than a human being perishing for lack of bread or water. Hunger and thirst, if not seasonably gratified, are the sources of most excruciating pain. And the soul can never lose its desire of happiness. How miserable, then, must it be when this insatiable desire meets with nothing to gratify it. It is strongly represented by our Savior in the case of the rich man in hell, who cried for one drop of water, and said, "I am tormented in this flame." The soul of the sinner will be its own chief tormentor. It is possible that all the torment experienced in hell, will be the natural consequence of sin.
Evil passions are in their very nature attended with misery; for as benevolent affections are pleasant—so malevolent feelings are accompanied with misery. Here in this present world, these evil passions are held under restraint; and while we are in the body, there are instinctive natural affections which counteract the wicked feelings which exist in the depraved heart; but in eternity all restraint will be removed, and the native wickedness of the heart will act itself out: there are no natural affections there—all will be unmixed malice, envy, and wickedness. Let any person who is totally depraved be abandoned to himself—and he must be miserable! His own passions will become his everlasting tormentors. He will carry a hell in his own bosom!
But of all feelings of misery, none is so intolerable as REMORSE. The conscience, or moral faculty, as it is the principal source of the most pure and sublime enjoyment to the righteous; so it is, to the lost, the scorpion which will forever sting the soul with inexpressible anguish! The consciousness of having done wrong, of having sinned against God, and of being the cause of our own destruction—is a kind of hell as dreadful as any of which we can conceive. The lost soul will forever have the conviction clearly impressed—that it is its own destroyer—and that heaven with all its joys has been lost by its own sinful folly and neglect!
And the bitterest ingredient of all in the cup of misery is despair—black endless despair! Oh, if there was the most distant hope of release at some future period, it would mitigate the anguish of the suffering sinner. But hellish despair admits of no alleviation.
Men may here 'dream' of a deliverance from hell after a long time of suffering, but the delusion will vanish as soon as they enter eternity. They will then find that the word of God, which denounced eternal destruction on impenitent sinners, was not a vain threat; that God will not spare the guilty, but will punish them with everlasting destruction—just as He said He would.
O my soul, consider now how you will be able to endure such misery as must be experienced by all the lost, but especially by those who enjoyed the light of the gospel. Can you fortify yourself against all this misery? Will you be able to endure it with patience? Only imagine your condition millions of ages hence. Still writhing in anguish—still belching out horrid blasphemies—still covered with the blackness of darkness—still without a ray of hope! Not a moment's ease during this long period. O my soul, will you not make one vigorous effort to escape so great misery? Will you not strive to flee from the wrath to come? Life, eternal life, is still within your reach! Lay hold on the prize! Press on to the kingdom. Take refuge in the cross, and you will be safe!
"Since, therefore, we have now been justified by His blood, much more shall we be saved by Him from the wrath of God!" (Romans 5:9)
"For God did not appoint us to wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ!" (1 Thessalonians 5:9)
Grace Preparing for Glory
by Arthur Pink, 1936
"For the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men. Teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world; looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ." Titus 2:11-13
The opening "For" looks back to verse 10. In the immediate context the Apostle had exhorted servants to walk amiably and faithfully, so that they "adorned the doctrine of God our Savior in all things." It is deeply important that we should be sound in doctrine, for error acts upon the soul the same as poison does upon the body. Yes, it is very necessary that we be sound in the Faith, for it is dishonoring to God and injurious to ourselves to believe the Devil's lies, for that is what false doctrine is. Then let us not despise doctrinal preaching, for "All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine" (2 Tim. 3:16).
But there is something else which is equally important as being sound in doctrine, namely, that we adorn it by our conduct. The sounder I am in doctrine, the more loudly I advertise my orthodox views, the more do I bring that doctrine into reproach—if my life is worldly, and my walk carnal. How earnestly we need to pray for Divine enablement that we may "adorn the doctrine in all things." We need the doctrine of Scripture written upon our hearts, molding our character, regulating our ways, influencing our conduct. We "adorn" the doctrine when we "walk in newness of life," when we live each hour as those who must appear before the final judgment. And we are to "adorn the doctrine in all things"—in every sphere we occupy, every relation we sustain, every circle which God's providence brings us into.
The Apostle now enforces what he said in Titus 2:10 by reminding us that "the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men." This is in blessed contrast from the Law, which brings nothing but "condemnation." But the grace of God brings salvation, and that in a twofold way—by what Christ has done for His people, and by what He works in them. "He shall save His people from their sins" (Matt. 1:21)—save from the guilt and penalty of sin, and from the love or power of sin. This grace of God "has appeared"—it has broken forth like the light of the morning after a dark night. It has "appeared" both objectively and subjectively—in the Gospel and in our hearts, "when it pleased God . . . . to reveal His Son in me" (Gal. 1:15, 16); "God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, has shined in our hearts" (2 Cor. 4:6).
The grace of God—His loving-kindness, His goodwill, His free favor—hath appeared "to all men." That expression is used in Scripture in two different senses—sometimes it means all without exception, as in "all have sinned and come short of the glory of God." In other passages it signifies all without distinction, as it does here—to the bondsmen, as well as the free; to the servant as the master, to the Gentiles as well as to the Jews; to all kinds and conditions of men. But how may I know that the grace of God which brings salvation has appeared to me? A vitally important question is that, one which none who really values the eternal interest of his or her soul, will treat lightly or take for granted. There are many who profess to be "saved" but they give no evidence of it in their lives. Now here is the inspired answer.
"Teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts." Divine grace teaches its favored recipients subjectively as well as objectively, effectually as well as theoretically.
Grace in the heart prevents us from abusing grace in the head—it delivers us from making grace the lackey of sin. Where the grace of God brings salvation to the soul, it works effectually. And what is it that grace teaches? Practical holiness. Grace does not eradicate ungodliness and worldly lusts—but it causes us to deny them. And what but "Divine grace" can? Philosophy cannot, nor ethics, nor any form of human education or culture.
But grace does, by the impulsive power of gratitude, by love's desire to please the Savior, by instilling a determination to "walk worthy of the vocation wherewith we are called" (Eph. 4:1).
Alas, many who are glad to hear of the grace which brings salvation, become restless when the preacher presses the truth that God's grace teaches us to DENY. That is a very unpalatable word in this age of self-pleasing and self-indulgence; but turn to Matthew 16:24, "Then said Jesus unto His disciples, If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me." And again, "Whoever does not bear his cross, and come after Me, cannot be My disciple" (Luke 14:27)—that is the unceasing demand of Christ, and nothing but Divine grace working within—can enable any one to meet it.
Grace teaches NEGATIVELY—it teaches us to renounce evil. Dagon must first be cast down—before the Ark of God can be set up. The leaven must be excluded from our houses—before the Lamb can be fed upon. The old man has to be put off—if the new man is to be put on. Grace teaches a Christian to mortify his members which are upon the earth, "to deny ungodliness and worldly lusts." Grace teaches the believer to resist these evils—by preventing the flesh from ruling over him, and that, by refusing to allow sin to dominate his heart.
"Ungodliness" is failing to give God His due place in our hearts and lives. It is disregarding His precepts and commands. It is having preference for the creature, loving pleasure more than holiness; being unconcerned whether my conduct pleases or displeases the Lord. There are many forms of "ungodliness" besides that of open infidelity and the grosser crimes of wickedness.
We are guilty of "ungodliness" when we are prayerless. We are guilty of "ungodliness" when we look to and lean upon the creature; or when we fail to see God's hand in providence—ascribing our blessings to "luck" or "chance." We are guilty of "ungodliness" when we grumble at the weather.
"And worldly lusts"—these are those affections and appetites which dominate and regulate the man of the world. It is the heart craving worldly objects, pleasures, honors, riches. It is an undue absorption with those things which serve only a temporary purpose and use. "Worldly lusts" cause the things of Heaven to be crowded out by the interests and concerns of earth. This may be done by things which are quite lawful in themselves—but through an immoderate use they gain possession of the heart. "Worldly lusts" are "the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life" (1 John 2:16).
Now Divine grace is teaching the Christian to "deny ungodliness and worldly lusts." It does this by putting upon him "the fear of the Lord," so that he departs from evil. It does this by occupying the heart with a superior Object—when Christ was revealed to the heart of the Samaritan woman—she "left her waterpot" (John 4:28). It does this by supplying powerful motives and incentives to personal holiness. It does this by the indwelling Spirit resisting the flesh (Gal. 5:17). It does this by causing us to subordinate the interests of the body unto the higher interests of the soul.
Grace teaches POSITIVELY. It is not sufficient that we "deny ungodliness and worldly lusts," we must also "live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world."
"Soberly" comes first because we cannot live righteously or godly without it—he who takes to himself more than is due or fit, will not give men or God their portion. Unfortunately the word "sober" is now generally restricted to the opposite of inebriation—but the Christian is to be sober in all things. Sobriety is the moderation of our affections in the pursuit and use of earthly things. We are to be temperate in eating, sleeping, recreation, dress.
We need to be sober-minded, and not extremists. Only Divine grace can effectually teach sobriety, and if I am growing in grace, then I am becoming more sober. Grace does not remove natural inclinations and affections—but it governs them—it bridles their excess.
The first thing, then, that grace teaches us positively is self-control. "He who is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he who rules his spirit than he who takes a city" (Proverbs 16:32).
"Righteously." This concerns our dealings with our fellow men. It is giving to each his due, dealing honorably with all; injuring none, seeking the good of all. To live "righteously" is doing unto others—as we would have them do unto us; it is being truthful, courteous, considerate, kind, helpful. "Do good unto all men, especially unto those who are of the household of faith" (Gal. 6:10), must be our constant aim. This is the second half of the Law's requirement, that we should "love our neighbor as ourselves." Only Divine grace can effectually "teach" us this. Nothing but Divine grace, can counteract our innate selfishness.
"Godly." This is the attitude of our hearts towards God, ever seeking His glory. Godliness is made up of three ingredients, or more accurately, it issues from three springs—faith, fear, love.
Only by faith can we really apprehend God, "Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God" (Heb. 3:12).
Forty years ago we often heard the expression, so and so is "a God-fearing man"—the fact we rarely hear this now is a bad sign. Now there are two kinds of fear—a servile fear and a filial fear—a dread of God and an awe of God. The first kind was seen in Adam when he was afraid of the Lord and hid himself. The second kind was exemplified by Joseph when tempted by the wife of Potipher—reverential fear restrained him. Only Divine grace can "teach" us this.
While love constrains unto obedience, "If you love Me, keep My commandments" (John 14:15). It is only love's obedience which is acceptable unto God—the heart melted by His goodness, now desiring to please Him.
"Looking for that blessed Hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ." Now this must not be divorced from its context, for there we are shown the necessary pre-requisite, Grace preparing for Glory.
The passage as a whole is made up of three parts—
Now our "Hope" is something more than a future event concerning the details of which there may be room for considerable difference of opinion. Our Hope is something more than the next item on God's prophetic program. It is something more than a place in which we are going to spend eternity. The Christian's hope is a PERSON. Have you noticed how prominently and emphatically that fact is presented in the Scriptures? "I will come again, and receive you unto myself" (John 14:3); "This same Jesus, who is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner" (Acts 1:11); "We look for the Savior" (Phil. 3:20); "The coming of the Lord draws near" (James 5:8)—not the great Tribulation draws near, not the Millennium draws near, nor even the Rapture draws near—but the coming of the Lord. It is with His own blessed Person—that our poor hearts need to be occupied.
Here is a poor wife whose husband has been away for many months in distant lands, whose duty required him to go there. News arrives that he is coming back home—the devoted wife is filled with joy at the prospect of the return of her husband. Is she puzzling her brains as to what will be his program of action after he arrives? No, the all-absorbing thing for her is himself—her beloved is soon to appear before her.
Now do not misunderstand me—I am not saying that the plan of prophecy holds little of interest, or that it matters nothing to us—what course Christ will follow; but that which I am seeking to emphasize is that the primary and grand point of the whole subject—is having our prepared hearts fixed upon Christ Himself. God would have us occupied not so much with prophetic details, as with the blessed Person of His dear Son.
That "blessed Hope," then, which the Christian is "looking for" is not an event—but a Person—Christ Himself. "And this is His name whereby He shall be called, the Lord Our Righteousness" (Jer. 23:6). "For He is our peace" (Eph. 2:14)—the Lord is our peace. "When Christ, who is our life, shall appear" (Col. 3:4)—the Lord is our life. "By the commandment of God our Savior, and Lord Jesus Christ, who is our hope" (1 Tim. 1:1)—the Lord is our hope.
To me "that blessed Hope" is summed up in three things:
First, that Christ is coming to receive me unto Himself.
Second, that Christ will then make me like Himself—for nothing less than that will satisfy Him or the renewed heart.
Third, that Christ is going to have me forever with Himself—an eternity of bliss spent in His own immediate presence. Then will be answered His prayer "Father, I will that they also, whom You have given Me, be with Me where I am; that they may behold My glory" (John 17:24).
Now "looking for that blessed Hope," for Christ Himself, is an attitude of heart.
The Christian "looks" with the eyes of faith, and faith always rests alone upon God and His Word. Faith is not influenced by sensational items from the newspapers about the latest doings of Hitler and Mussolini, etc. Scripture says, "The coming of the Lord draws near" (James 5:8), and faith believes it.
The Christian "looks" with the eyes of hope, joyously anticipating perfect fellowship with its Beloved.
The Christian "looks" with the eyes of love, for nothing but His personal presence can satisfy him.
It is an attitude of anticipation—Christ has given His sure promise that He is coming—but the exact time is withheld—that we may be in constant readiness.
It is an attitude of expectation, for we do not "look for" something we know will never happen. It is an attitude of supplication, the heart's response "Even so, come, Lord Jesus."
A final word upon Christ's title here, "The glorious appearing of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ," or as it is more correctly rendered, "And appearing of the glory, the great God and Savior, of our Lord Jesus Christ." Three things are suggested to us by Christ's being here called "the great God."
First, it points a contrast from His first advent, when He appeared in humiliation and lowliness as the "Servant."
Second, it shows us He is called "God" not by way of courtesy—but by right of His Divine nature.
Third, it evidences the fact that the Savior is in no way inferior to the Father—but His co-equal, "the great God."
"For the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men. Teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world; looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ." Titus 2:11-13
The opening "For" looks back to verse 10. In the immediate context the Apostle had exhorted servants to walk amiably and faithfully, so that they "adorned the doctrine of God our Savior in all things." It is deeply important that we should be sound in doctrine, for error acts upon the soul the same as poison does upon the body. Yes, it is very necessary that we be sound in the Faith, for it is dishonoring to God and injurious to ourselves to believe the Devil's lies, for that is what false doctrine is. Then let us not despise doctrinal preaching, for "All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine" (2 Tim. 3:16).
But there is something else which is equally important as being sound in doctrine, namely, that we adorn it by our conduct. The sounder I am in doctrine, the more loudly I advertise my orthodox views, the more do I bring that doctrine into reproach—if my life is worldly, and my walk carnal. How earnestly we need to pray for Divine enablement that we may "adorn the doctrine in all things." We need the doctrine of Scripture written upon our hearts, molding our character, regulating our ways, influencing our conduct. We "adorn" the doctrine when we "walk in newness of life," when we live each hour as those who must appear before the final judgment. And we are to "adorn the doctrine in all things"—in every sphere we occupy, every relation we sustain, every circle which God's providence brings us into.
The Apostle now enforces what he said in Titus 2:10 by reminding us that "the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men." This is in blessed contrast from the Law, which brings nothing but "condemnation." But the grace of God brings salvation, and that in a twofold way—by what Christ has done for His people, and by what He works in them. "He shall save His people from their sins" (Matt. 1:21)—save from the guilt and penalty of sin, and from the love or power of sin. This grace of God "has appeared"—it has broken forth like the light of the morning after a dark night. It has "appeared" both objectively and subjectively—in the Gospel and in our hearts, "when it pleased God . . . . to reveal His Son in me" (Gal. 1:15, 16); "God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, has shined in our hearts" (2 Cor. 4:6).
The grace of God—His loving-kindness, His goodwill, His free favor—hath appeared "to all men." That expression is used in Scripture in two different senses—sometimes it means all without exception, as in "all have sinned and come short of the glory of God." In other passages it signifies all without distinction, as it does here—to the bondsmen, as well as the free; to the servant as the master, to the Gentiles as well as to the Jews; to all kinds and conditions of men. But how may I know that the grace of God which brings salvation has appeared to me? A vitally important question is that, one which none who really values the eternal interest of his or her soul, will treat lightly or take for granted. There are many who profess to be "saved" but they give no evidence of it in their lives. Now here is the inspired answer.
"Teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts." Divine grace teaches its favored recipients subjectively as well as objectively, effectually as well as theoretically.
Grace in the heart prevents us from abusing grace in the head—it delivers us from making grace the lackey of sin. Where the grace of God brings salvation to the soul, it works effectually. And what is it that grace teaches? Practical holiness. Grace does not eradicate ungodliness and worldly lusts—but it causes us to deny them. And what but "Divine grace" can? Philosophy cannot, nor ethics, nor any form of human education or culture.
But grace does, by the impulsive power of gratitude, by love's desire to please the Savior, by instilling a determination to "walk worthy of the vocation wherewith we are called" (Eph. 4:1).
Alas, many who are glad to hear of the grace which brings salvation, become restless when the preacher presses the truth that God's grace teaches us to DENY. That is a very unpalatable word in this age of self-pleasing and self-indulgence; but turn to Matthew 16:24, "Then said Jesus unto His disciples, If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow Me." And again, "Whoever does not bear his cross, and come after Me, cannot be My disciple" (Luke 14:27)—that is the unceasing demand of Christ, and nothing but Divine grace working within—can enable any one to meet it.
Grace teaches NEGATIVELY—it teaches us to renounce evil. Dagon must first be cast down—before the Ark of God can be set up. The leaven must be excluded from our houses—before the Lamb can be fed upon. The old man has to be put off—if the new man is to be put on. Grace teaches a Christian to mortify his members which are upon the earth, "to deny ungodliness and worldly lusts." Grace teaches the believer to resist these evils—by preventing the flesh from ruling over him, and that, by refusing to allow sin to dominate his heart.
"Ungodliness" is failing to give God His due place in our hearts and lives. It is disregarding His precepts and commands. It is having preference for the creature, loving pleasure more than holiness; being unconcerned whether my conduct pleases or displeases the Lord. There are many forms of "ungodliness" besides that of open infidelity and the grosser crimes of wickedness.
We are guilty of "ungodliness" when we are prayerless. We are guilty of "ungodliness" when we look to and lean upon the creature; or when we fail to see God's hand in providence—ascribing our blessings to "luck" or "chance." We are guilty of "ungodliness" when we grumble at the weather.
"And worldly lusts"—these are those affections and appetites which dominate and regulate the man of the world. It is the heart craving worldly objects, pleasures, honors, riches. It is an undue absorption with those things which serve only a temporary purpose and use. "Worldly lusts" cause the things of Heaven to be crowded out by the interests and concerns of earth. This may be done by things which are quite lawful in themselves—but through an immoderate use they gain possession of the heart. "Worldly lusts" are "the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life" (1 John 2:16).
Now Divine grace is teaching the Christian to "deny ungodliness and worldly lusts." It does this by putting upon him "the fear of the Lord," so that he departs from evil. It does this by occupying the heart with a superior Object—when Christ was revealed to the heart of the Samaritan woman—she "left her waterpot" (John 4:28). It does this by supplying powerful motives and incentives to personal holiness. It does this by the indwelling Spirit resisting the flesh (Gal. 5:17). It does this by causing us to subordinate the interests of the body unto the higher interests of the soul.
Grace teaches POSITIVELY. It is not sufficient that we "deny ungodliness and worldly lusts," we must also "live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world."
"Soberly" comes first because we cannot live righteously or godly without it—he who takes to himself more than is due or fit, will not give men or God their portion. Unfortunately the word "sober" is now generally restricted to the opposite of inebriation—but the Christian is to be sober in all things. Sobriety is the moderation of our affections in the pursuit and use of earthly things. We are to be temperate in eating, sleeping, recreation, dress.
We need to be sober-minded, and not extremists. Only Divine grace can effectually teach sobriety, and if I am growing in grace, then I am becoming more sober. Grace does not remove natural inclinations and affections—but it governs them—it bridles their excess.
The first thing, then, that grace teaches us positively is self-control. "He who is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he who rules his spirit than he who takes a city" (Proverbs 16:32).
"Righteously." This concerns our dealings with our fellow men. It is giving to each his due, dealing honorably with all; injuring none, seeking the good of all. To live "righteously" is doing unto others—as we would have them do unto us; it is being truthful, courteous, considerate, kind, helpful. "Do good unto all men, especially unto those who are of the household of faith" (Gal. 6:10), must be our constant aim. This is the second half of the Law's requirement, that we should "love our neighbor as ourselves." Only Divine grace can effectually "teach" us this. Nothing but Divine grace, can counteract our innate selfishness.
"Godly." This is the attitude of our hearts towards God, ever seeking His glory. Godliness is made up of three ingredients, or more accurately, it issues from three springs—faith, fear, love.
Only by faith can we really apprehend God, "Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God" (Heb. 3:12).
Forty years ago we often heard the expression, so and so is "a God-fearing man"—the fact we rarely hear this now is a bad sign. Now there are two kinds of fear—a servile fear and a filial fear—a dread of God and an awe of God. The first kind was seen in Adam when he was afraid of the Lord and hid himself. The second kind was exemplified by Joseph when tempted by the wife of Potipher—reverential fear restrained him. Only Divine grace can "teach" us this.
While love constrains unto obedience, "If you love Me, keep My commandments" (John 14:15). It is only love's obedience which is acceptable unto God—the heart melted by His goodness, now desiring to please Him.
"Looking for that blessed Hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ." Now this must not be divorced from its context, for there we are shown the necessary pre-requisite, Grace preparing for Glory.
The passage as a whole is made up of three parts—
- in the past, the grace of God brought salvation to the believer;
- in the present, Divine grace is teaching him, both negatively and positively, how to live acceptably unto God;
- in the future, the work of Divine grace will be perfected in the believer, at the return of Christ.
Now our "Hope" is something more than a future event concerning the details of which there may be room for considerable difference of opinion. Our Hope is something more than the next item on God's prophetic program. It is something more than a place in which we are going to spend eternity. The Christian's hope is a PERSON. Have you noticed how prominently and emphatically that fact is presented in the Scriptures? "I will come again, and receive you unto myself" (John 14:3); "This same Jesus, who is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner" (Acts 1:11); "We look for the Savior" (Phil. 3:20); "The coming of the Lord draws near" (James 5:8)—not the great Tribulation draws near, not the Millennium draws near, nor even the Rapture draws near—but the coming of the Lord. It is with His own blessed Person—that our poor hearts need to be occupied.
Here is a poor wife whose husband has been away for many months in distant lands, whose duty required him to go there. News arrives that he is coming back home—the devoted wife is filled with joy at the prospect of the return of her husband. Is she puzzling her brains as to what will be his program of action after he arrives? No, the all-absorbing thing for her is himself—her beloved is soon to appear before her.
Now do not misunderstand me—I am not saying that the plan of prophecy holds little of interest, or that it matters nothing to us—what course Christ will follow; but that which I am seeking to emphasize is that the primary and grand point of the whole subject—is having our prepared hearts fixed upon Christ Himself. God would have us occupied not so much with prophetic details, as with the blessed Person of His dear Son.
That "blessed Hope," then, which the Christian is "looking for" is not an event—but a Person—Christ Himself. "And this is His name whereby He shall be called, the Lord Our Righteousness" (Jer. 23:6). "For He is our peace" (Eph. 2:14)—the Lord is our peace. "When Christ, who is our life, shall appear" (Col. 3:4)—the Lord is our life. "By the commandment of God our Savior, and Lord Jesus Christ, who is our hope" (1 Tim. 1:1)—the Lord is our hope.
To me "that blessed Hope" is summed up in three things:
First, that Christ is coming to receive me unto Himself.
Second, that Christ will then make me like Himself—for nothing less than that will satisfy Him or the renewed heart.
Third, that Christ is going to have me forever with Himself—an eternity of bliss spent in His own immediate presence. Then will be answered His prayer "Father, I will that they also, whom You have given Me, be with Me where I am; that they may behold My glory" (John 17:24).
Now "looking for that blessed Hope," for Christ Himself, is an attitude of heart.
The Christian "looks" with the eyes of faith, and faith always rests alone upon God and His Word. Faith is not influenced by sensational items from the newspapers about the latest doings of Hitler and Mussolini, etc. Scripture says, "The coming of the Lord draws near" (James 5:8), and faith believes it.
The Christian "looks" with the eyes of hope, joyously anticipating perfect fellowship with its Beloved.
The Christian "looks" with the eyes of love, for nothing but His personal presence can satisfy him.
It is an attitude of anticipation—Christ has given His sure promise that He is coming—but the exact time is withheld—that we may be in constant readiness.
It is an attitude of expectation, for we do not "look for" something we know will never happen. It is an attitude of supplication, the heart's response "Even so, come, Lord Jesus."
A final word upon Christ's title here, "The glorious appearing of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ," or as it is more correctly rendered, "And appearing of the glory, the great God and Savior, of our Lord Jesus Christ." Three things are suggested to us by Christ's being here called "the great God."
First, it points a contrast from His first advent, when He appeared in humiliation and lowliness as the "Servant."
Second, it shows us He is called "God" not by way of courtesy—but by right of His Divine nature.
Third, it evidences the fact that the Savior is in no way inferior to the Father—but His co-equal, "the great God."
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