Part 17

A SHAFT OF RIDICULE.

That seems to be the grand solution of what has always seemed a barbarous proceeding. The want of such a solution has furnished Ingersoll and men like him with many a shaft of ridicule at the so-called merciful God of the Old Testament. This larger view shows Him to be all He claims; that His mercy is not confined to this short span of time; that it is from everlasting to everlasting.

One great advantage in believing in Restoration is, that any good influence effected on any person will have its legitimate effect in the next life. I need to explain. There are many persons who are not believers who yet rise to a high plane of character. But no matter how high they may rise, if they are not Christians the old theory would consign them to everlasting torment. No doubt, degrees of suffering are recognized, varying with the goodness or badness of the sinner. Still, if a person is not a Christian when he dies, the idea is that he must go to eternal torment, be his moral character what it may. Thus, any good influence that may be exerted upon him here is largely or entirely lost. Even the incentive to do him good in a great degree is neutralized. An inevitable, though it may be an unconscious, arrest, is thus put upon every good impulse to benefit men except they are true Christians.

But consider how different is the incentive on the Restoration theory. In that case, you can have the certainty that any good accomplished in this life will have its due effect in the next. A man may not be a Christian, but he may have risen to such a high character in this life that he will not have to pass through very severe pains and penalties in the next. There is, therefore, every incentive to do the most and the best we can for all men, be their character what it may, and whether they are Christians or not. We may be sure that any good effect attained will not be lost.

Is not this a strong plea for good works? And is it not a strong argument that Restoration is true? Is it to be supposed that the divine government is based on any possibility of good efforts being abortive? Surely, in God's perfect government of the world it is so arranged that every good influence will have its due effect. To my mind, this consideration makes strongly for the truth of the theory of Restoration.

It may possibly be charged on me that all through this discussion I have ignored divine justice. I would say that nothing could be farther from my intention. To be sure, I have tried to magnify divine love. "God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son" for the world. There we see a depth of love that will never be fathomed. But then, He gave His Son. There was infinite justice, too. "He spared not His own Son." "It pleased the Lord to bruise Him." O, mystery of mysteries! The union of infinite love with infinite justice! I believe that will be the marvel of eternity. Let that stand, whatever I may seem to say to the contrary. In dealing with problems that are so high, and yet so deep, it would not be surprising if there are some apparent contradictions. Our limited range of thought, and our poor vehicle of speech, make seeming contradiction almost inevitable. But there will be harmony by and by.

I would say here that in what is advanced there are some repetitions. But often these are in new connections, and are therefore in order. Besides, I have not been careful to avoid repetition; for I have in view many readers to whom such topics as are treated here are comparatively new, and by all such, repetition is needed.

The foregoing are some, but only some, of the arguments that occur to me in support of the theory of Restoration. It may be that in some cases I may be considered too dogmatic on a theme which is involved in much obscurity. But apart from the manner, judge of the matter. Is it not reasonable? And is not the very conception of it like the rising of a new sun in a new world?

I have claimed that such views are reasonable. They may appear strange--even impious--at the first glance; but the longer the mind dwells upon them the more reasonable they will appear.

The old view is not reasonable; and that is one of its most damaging features. For all true religion is reasonable. In fact, religion is one of the most reasonable things in the world. It is so in God's mind, who sees all parts of it in all their relations. But our view for the present is limited. We see only a part of the divine scheme. But it is a great consolation that "what we know not now we shall know hereafter."

Let us always remember that our highest thoughts of God's wisdom and love are as nothing to the reality. In this regard I believe the future has revelations that will surprise us. Oh, yes; the words will come true by and by, in a larger sense than our poor faith can anticipate: "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."

XVI.

THE CASE OF SAUL.

Divine Methods of Reclaiming Men--"The Chief of Sinners"--Changed in a Moment--No Violence Done to His Freedom--Yet Sovereign Power--The Mystery of Grace--View of McCosh--Supremacy of Conscience--Sir Isaac Newton's Alertness of Mind--Reason and Intuition--Capturing the Most Incorrigible--Evil Environment--Suffering a Necessary Factor--Agony of Remorse.

We must remember that God has ways and means of reclaiming men that we do not see ordinarily put forth in this life. But we do see singular exhibitions of grace and power sometimes. I have referred to the case of Saul. Witness his conversion. He was a blaspheming, malignant persecutor. He says he was "exceedingly mad" against God's saint. It is said that he "breathed out threatening and slaughter." He said that he was the "chief of sinners." Possibly that was no mere rhetoric. He may actually have been the worst of mankind.

But in a moment he was changed. He was utterly transformed. His blasphemy was turned to prayer. From that day forward he would do anything, or go anywhere, or suffer the utmost persecution, if only he might serve Him whom he had before persecuted and blasphemed. And what was it that effected such a marvellous change? The Lord manifested Himself to him, and spoke to him; that was all. How we adore the grace and power that can work such marvels!

And in the life to come who can say but such marvels will be used, and with similar effect? We simply do not know, but we can see that such means can be used, and we can imagine that they will be, especially in the case of those who had no chance before. In such a case, the period of suffering may not need to be greatly prolonged. In other cases we can imagine that the suffering may be long continued before the sinner repents.

And it is wonderful how, in the case of Saul, no violence was done to the freedom of his will. He was no mere machine. He was simply taken captive. He willingly, gladly, surrendered. He could say afterward, "I was not disobedient to the heavenly vision." It was a case of divine sovereignty combined with human freedom. It may be that we shall never understand how these two forces unite. But one thing we do know; it is the Lord's way, and it is marvellous in our eyes. Meantime, we take these words of Tennyson as the best definition of the mystery that we know:

"Our wills are ours, we know not how; Our wills are ours, to make them thine."

Who can say but some such divine yet free constraint may be exercised in the life to come?

It will be seen that I do not think of freedom as the prime faculty of the soul. I rather think, with McCosh, that conscience is supreme. And why? For two reasons: First, conscience deals only with questions in the moral realm. This gives it a peculiar dignity and sacredness. It does not concern itself with questions of mere expediency, but with questions of right and wrong, and discriminates intuitively between truth and error. Yes, even in mathematical truth I think there is an element of morality. If a man could believe that two and two are five, he would appear to me a worse man, morally, for so believing. So then, conscience rather than freewill is the highest quality of the soul, because it deals with questions solely in the higher realm.

SIR ISAAC NEWTON'S OPINION.

Then, as I have said, there is another reason why we think of conscience as our highest faculty. That is, that it acts instinctively. It has a sensitiveness of feeling towards questions of right and wrong, and of truth and error. This seems to me to be a higher faculty than mere reason. It seems to ally conscience more closely with the divine. We cannot think of God arriving at conclusions by reasoning. He is conscious of the truth without any intermediate process of reasoning. It is said of Sir Isaac Newton that he perceived at a glance the truth of many propositions that had to be tediously reasoned out step by step by inferior minds. We recognize at once the superiority of such an order of mind; and in the realm of morals it is such a faculty with which conscience is endowed.

Thus in both respects that have been indicated, freewill seems to occupy a lower plane. For one thing it has largely to do with matters in a lower realm. It concerns itself, not chiefly with higher questions, but often with matters of the most trifling character. Its daily operation is mainly with the commonplace. And besides, it has not the gift of intuition but of reason, and often of conflicting reason. For such reasons as these freewill--important as it is--must be conceived as a lower faculty than that of conscience. Because conscience operates solely in a higher realm, and because its operations are of a higher quality, I think of it as a superior function of the soul.

If there is too much theory here, consider the matter for a moment in its practical aspect. We often see that one strong will can dominate a weaker one, without in the least impairing its freedom. There is no doubt that the weaker will is as free as ever. It freely yields to the influence of the stronger will. And it may yield intelligently. It is easy to conceive that influences may be brought to bear on it by which it is captured, without losing a particle of its freedom.

THE WORST OF MANKIND.

We may reasonably conceive, then, of Christ acting on the most incorrigible of mankind, and entirely capturing them without in the least depriving them of freewill. What influences He may bring to bear upon them, who can say? What unfoldings of eternal love He may reveal are impossible to be imagined. We can thus believe that the worst of mankind might be captured and redeemed. I appeal to the capture of Saul of Tarsus as an example of such a possibility. What a door of hope is opened here for our lost race!

* * * * *

It may be asked why such a redemption is not effected in the present life. Let us beware of intruding into divine mysteries. We might as well ask why Saul was not arrested and redeemed before he made such a havoc of the church, and went down to such a low depth of infamy. Or we might inquire why he was arrested at all. Or we might inquire why God went to that idolatrous people in Ur of the Chaldees, and took Abraham from among them, and made him not only the progenitor of the chosen race, but one of the greatest and most noble men in history. Yet God in his sovereign pleasure took that course, leaving the rest of those heathen people in their idolatry. And so through all the ages we see the manifestation of God's electing favor. I say, we must beware of intruding into the divine mysteries. To all such inquiries we can only say, "Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in Thy sight."

THEY MAY YIELD SPEEDILY.

It is well, however, to remember that the environment may be much more favorable in a future world than here. There are many who are almost of necessity sinners from their youth up, because of their evil surroundings. It would be hard to expect them to be much better than they are. But their surroundings may be entirely different in the next life; and they may yield speedily to the better influences. We see such effects so often in this life that we may well cherish hopes for their larger operation in the next. No details are revealed; but we can imagine this as a reasonable possibility. In such a case there may be the most surprising reformations.

It may be objected that I have taken very little notice of suffering as a necessary factor in the process of future redemption. I may say that I have always had it in view; but we have no details as to the nature of it, or the duration of it, or how it will be inflicted. That there will be suffering I have no doubt. But I regard suffering rather as reformatory than punitive.

Take the example of Saul, to whom we have just referred. If ever there was a case of sudden conversion, surely we see it there. It did not take him long to pass out of the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of light. But he went through a very agony of remorse. He passed through such a horror of darkness that for three days and nights he did not eat. Certainly, the intensest suffering accompanied his conversion.

In the light of such facts as these we can see how possible, and how reasonable it is to expect the most wonderful transformation in the next life. The greatest sinners may become the greatest saints. I have taken the case of Saul to show how such marvels of redemption may be effected in a future life. Possibly his case is the most notable that has occurred. And yet, who can say? From cases that we have known we can well believe that there are thousands of such cases that have never got into any history. But we have seen enough to warrant the belief that in the next life there will be marvels of spiritual transformation.

XVII.

ETERNAL SEPARATIONS.

An Everlasting Pang--David and Absalom--Strained Ideas of Late Momentary Repentance--King Solomon--King Saul--The Gracious Character of Sympathy--George Eliot's View--A strong Argument for Restoration --Heresy of a Minister's Wife--The Minister's Orthodox View--Wonderful Goodness of a Criminal--Where Will He Finally Go?--Our Very Imperfect Friends--Glossing Over Their Faults When They Are Gone--Our Instinctive Hope for the Worst--Restoration the True Solution--A Final Era of Joy.

We might glance here at another difficulty which is solved by the theory of Restoration. Apart from this theory, those who are saved we think must have everlasting regret that friends whom they have known and loved are not with them. Suppose those friends are annihilated. Will not the knowledge of that fact be an everlasting pang to the friends who have attained eternal joy? To think that those who were so dear to them were worthy of no better fate! To think of the honor and glory which might have been eternally theirs, which now they have forever missed! What a joy it would be, too, to have their companionship! But that joy is eternally forfeited. We think that if regret in heaven can be, it would arise from the fact that those whom we hoped to meet there we shall never see.

Take one case as an illustration. Is it to be conceived that David would not have an everlasting regret in regard to his son Absalom? We know how his heart was broken when he received the tidings of Absalom's death; yes, though Absalom was utterly opposed to him, and was trying to wrest the kingdom from him. It is one of the most pathetic scenes in Scripture history, when the king received the news of his son's death. We see him going up the stairs to the chamber over the gates, and we hear his sobs and cries, and his broken words: "O Absalom, my son, my son Absalom; would God I had died for thee; O Absalom, my son, my son."

Now can it be supposed that David will have no regret for his son Absalom if he does not meet him in the abodes of bliss? The tenderness of heart that characterized him here will surely not be suppressed there. Will not the absence of his son be an everlasting pang?

It may be supposed--it has been supposed--that somehow at the last moment, Absalom repented, and was saved. We put no limit on the grace of God; but such a supposition is entirely gratuitous. It is a far-fetched invention to square with the idea of supposed final perseverence. The difficulty is, to believe that Absalom died in a state of grace. How much more likely it is that Absalom came to himself in the next life; and that his father could endure--yea, rejoice in--his absence for a time, knowing that the result would be everlasting reunion.

And so with Solomon. We read of the high hopes that David cherished about Solomon, and how Solomon so terribly declined in character in his later life, and died, so far as the record goes, in apostasy from God. If he is absent from heaven, will not his absence cause David an everlasting pang?

And so with King Saul, and many more whom we recall, both in Bible history, and in our own experience. The unsolved difficulty stares us in the face; but it is no longer a difficulty, but everlasting harmony, when we believe in Restoration.

GEORGE ELIOT'S IDEA.

And if the fate of extinction would thus cause everlasting regret how much more would the knowledge that our friends are in everlasting torment. Surely our knowledge of such a fate would be unendurable. Would there not be everlasting distress in that world of joy? In fact it would be no world of joy. We shall have the same nature then as now. It will be only ennobled and purified. Certainly sympathy--which is one of the noblest of our feelings--will be more tender and intense than now. George Eliot said that she estimated her entire moral condition by her capacity of sympathy. We may imagine then the horror of the situation if we have to think of our friends as being in everlasting torment.

Surely this is a strong argument for Restoration. We might endure, and even rejoice in, a mild degree of suffering on the part of friends, if we knew that such was a necessary process of purification, and that by and by they would rise to eternal happiness. But to think of them as being forever in torment--inflicted for punishment, and not for purification--would be unspeakable torture. We have indeed heard of zealots who taught that the saved would even rejoice in the sufferings of the damned, as the effect of God's glorious justice. For the credit of humanity we would believe that such lurid representations were rare, and but the product of temporary excitement, or perhaps a mistaken zeal for orthodoxy.

* * * * *

I was lately staying at a Presbyterian Manse. The minister was from home, but his wife engaged me in several topics of conversation. Among other things she instanced the case of a family some members of which were saved, and some were lost; and she asked me if there was any means of explaining away the agony of such a separation. Thinking she might not be ready for a thorough discussion of the subject, I tried to dismiss it by some casual remark. But it would not do; again and again she returned to the point. At length I stated plainly that I did not believe in endless torment, or eternal separation. At once, and with evident relief, she responded that such was her own view.

Now I think that case is typical of thousands and thousands more. They have been brought up in the orthodox idea of eternal torment; it is enshrined in their thought by the sacredness of childish association; they have the conception that it is an evidence of soundness in the faith. But by and by, when they begin to think, their heart rebels; the idea hitherto accounted true seems opposed to every humane instinct, and much more opposed to that mercy that is from everlasting to everlasting. There is thus a sea of conflicting ideas, and they know not which way to turn. My hope is, that when they read these pages they will see that a large pan of the church has been for a long time under a dark cloud of error, and that their humane instinct is but a dim reflection of Eternal Love.

The lady referred to told me that her husband's view and hers do not agree. It is his idea, she said, that the point of view of the saved will gradually be uplifted until it coincides with God's, and that then they will be able to contemplate the tortures of the damned with perfect satisfaction! And this is orthodoxy! O, for the day when this dark pall will be lifted from the heart of the world!

* * * * *

Thus men have distorted the finest feelings of their nature that they might view with complacency the eternal torments of the damned. They really believed, or tried to believe, that such was God's feeling and attitude; and to that divine ideal they felt that they must aspire. It was surely hard work, and would naturally issue in a degree of sanctimoniousness and unreality. Yet it was necessary, if the doctrine of eternal torment were true. But the moment that doctrine is seen to be untrue, what a change of ideal! Then it is discerned that all this hardening process is opposed to the best that is in human nature, and utterly contrary to the character of God. We can never estimate the spiritual loss that it has been to mankind to have had such ideas of the Infinitely Merciful One.

* * * * *

When it is once discerned that there is no endless torment, but that suffering in the next life is a divinely appointed means of reformation, how the mind is enlarged in the contemplation of the wisdom, power, and love of God! Yea, and what an uplift, and what a new direction, is given to our ideas of human perfection and blessedness! If there were nothing else, we have surely here a strong argument for final Restoration.

Eternal blessedness is consonant with our nature; and though details of it are not revealed, it is reasonable to believe that it will ultimately be attained. But eternal suffering is abnormal and repugnant. Especially is it so as we rise in the moral scale. As a worthy ultimatum it cannot be entertained. It is far more reasonable to believe that under the perfect government of God, sin and all its resulting pain will finally be done away.

Further; it would be hard to find a case of such utter wickedness as not to have some mixture of good as well. That gives us the reasonable hope that ultimately the good will triumph. And sometimes we find great goodness mixed with great evil. Just now I notice a very affecting report in the newspaper of a criminal in whom there must have been a wonderful mixture of good and bad. He was convicted of a serious crime, and sentenced to three years in the penitentiary. When he was leaving the city under arrest, and being taken on board the train that was to convey him to the place of confinement, a number of his late companions in crime appeared on the railway platform. They had come to bid him good-bye. And it was no formal leave-taking. With tears and sobs they flung their arms about his neck, and kissed him. So affecting was the scene that the policeman in charge was utterly broken down. But the man had to go to prison; and the chances are that the evil influences of prison life will dissipate much of that extraordinary goodness which must have been in him to develop so much affection.