Chapter 11

Lately, a little book was published on the subject of missions. The author is earnest, even to intensity. He says the Church is "sleeping." He deplores its "deadly apathy," He says that "a thousand millions" have not heard of the Saviour. He says that "a Christless multitude" dies at the rate of thirty millions a year. He says that "many millions have gone to Christless graves." He says that for these uncounted millions "death and the future are the very blackness of despair." He says that for twenty centuries these millions have been "perishing." Phrases such as these are multiplied to a vast extent, to awaken our horror of the situation.

But singular to say, the author does not seem to have any definite, positive ideas as to the actual doom of these uncounted millions; or, if he has any definite convictions, he does not definitely express them. Is it eternal extinction or everlasting torment? From the phrases he uses I cannot gather what he actually means. He speaks of a "Christless multitude" and "Christless graves," and "going into darkness," and the "blackness of despair." It may be that he deems it wise not to compromise himself by speaking out his definite conviction, if he has any. But in my view, he will not produce much of a worthy effect if he does not say definitely what he means. Or it may be that he has no definite idea. In that case, would it not be manly and candid to say that he does not know?

I believe that is the position of very many. They are hovering between the idea of extinction and that of torment. They try to believe in torment; they have been inoculated with that idea; they think, or are afraid, that it is Scriptural; but they recoil from any hearty reception of it. They have not got the length as yet of the idea of final salvation. But some day that truth may flash upon their souls like a gleam of heaven's own sunlight.

To come back to our author. He tries to give us a due incentive to awake from our apathy, and enter on a Missionary Crusade with a spirit of self-denial and zeal never yet known. He quotes two passages, which he presents as a very strong incentive. But neither of these passages has any force, on the theory either of extinction or of torment. Otherwise, they are pregnant with eternal hope. Listen: "He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied." Again: "He, after He had offered one sacrifice for sins for ever, sat down on the right hand of God; from henceforth expecting till his enemies be made his footstool." Neither of those passages can come true on the basis either of extinction or of endless torment. But they will come gloriously true on the basis of final salvation.

So the "millions" and "billions" that our author says have been "going out into the darkness," and into the "blackness of despair," are redeemed as well as we. The author himself says: "Jesus wants every one of these poor creatures told at once of Him and His love." Now, if that is His wish, is He going to be thwarted by any coldness or indifference of ours? We may fail in our duty; but is He going to fail? A thousand times, No! He has all power and all love, as well as all eternity, in which to work out His glorious designs. We cannot conceive of Him as being "satisfied" with either extinction or endless torment. No; the day of grace for the millions and billions will come. "He will be satisfied." His "expecting" will be realized. What wonders of redeeming love eternity will reveal!

In the meantime, our author furnishes no effective incentive to missionary effort.

When the idea of final salvation is generally accepted, I believe there will be awakened an enthusiasm for missions such as the world has never seen.

Since writing the above, I have unexpectedly been in a large missionary meeting where two noted men of the Methodist Church were the chief speakers. Both addresses were most fervid and eloquent. But I noticed that neither of the speakers had any note of definiteness in regard to the fate of the heathen after death. It did seem to me that one of them came once very near to the idea of eternal extinction, but did not candidly commit himself to it. The other seemed to approach the theory of torment, but drew back. The whole performance, eloquent though it was, seemed to me largely shorn of its effectiveness of appeal, because of its indefiniteness. Surely, we want to know what doom the heathen are to be saved from, if we are to be moved to any adequate enterprise or liberality. The few small coins on the collection plates on the occasion referred to, bore unmistakable testimony to the fact that the fervid appeals had produced a very meagre result.

If men really believe in everlasting torment, why do they not plainly say so? If it is true, surely it is the strongest motive that could be urged on behalf of missions. Perhaps ministers think that the time is not yet come for an avowal of the larger view, and that in the meantime it is wise not to commit themselves. But is not that very much the same as to say that they are waiting for the current of popular favor before they dare to be faithful? And does it not argue a want of faith in the truth as a sanctifying and saving power? And is further truth likely to be revealed to us if we deliberately shut our minds to such light as is offered? I say, let the truth prevail, though the heavens should fall.

By the way, one of the gentlemen referred to uses the phrase "eternal death," as many do. I wonder what they mean? It is an ambiguous phrase. It might mean endless torment after death; or it might mean annihilation at death; or it might mean annihilation at some future time. It is surely misleading to use a phrase that may have so many meanings. If some definite idea cannot be advanced, I think the effect will be that the whole matter will be regarded as uncertain, and that there is nothing to fear. And such I believe is largely the position of the Christian world to-day. Could not a consensus of doctrine be arrived at by the various Christian churches--a consensus founded on the best interpretation of the Word; and also on reason?

Only last Sunday I heard a sermon on success in life. And it was a better and more spiritual sermon than many that we hear on that subject. The preacher strongly commended the Bible as the best text book on success; and he was earnest and positive in his distinction between right and wrong. But he gave no hint that evil doers would have any punishment in the next life. In fact, he made no allusion to a next life at all, except in one instance where he spoke of multitudes of men going out into the next life as "miserable failures." Why did he not speak of endless torment? That is one article in his creed; but he seemed not to believe it. A few earnest sentences along that line would have been more effectual, in my view, than his entire sermon.

Or, if he does not believe in endless torment, does he not believe in Restoration? Might he not have uttered some warnings along that line? Surely, it is a tremendous conviction to give a sinful man, that if he does not repent in this life he must do so in the next, though it takes thousands of years, and untold penalties, to bring him to that state of mind. But not a word of this terror did the preacher utter. That would be a repudiation of the endless torment theory, which would be unorthodox, and possibly subject the preacher himself to pains and penalties. So he simply said nothing by way of warning, except failure in this life. And that does not seem to amount to very much after all. Is it worth while to preach a sermon about it? Would not the old philosophy be almost as good, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die?"

Would it not be better to take the suffering incident to the Restoration theory, and be positive about it as a warning rather than the vague and half-hearted reference to eternal punishment, or the omission of any reference to it whatever? The manner in which it is referred to, when spoken of at all, gives one the strong impression that it is not believed. For, if believed, it would certainly not be preached in any vague or heartless way. Even the lurid representations of hell that formerly prevailed, were possibly better; for at least they were sincere.

But it may be said that we have no details of the suffering incident to Restoration, and that therefore such a warning cannot be used with effect. I would say that neither have we any details of endless torment. So the same argument applies. I would say further that we have very meagre details of heavenly joy. But that does not prevent our belief in it. Let it be clearly understood that a knowledge of details is not necessary to belief. It is purely a matter of revelation. There may be good reasons why details are not given. The fact is enough for the present; details will be known in due time.

So the sermon I have referred to related wholly to worldly success, with a mere glance at the possibility of a future life, which in reality favored unbelief. The whole sermon struck me as a kind of religious exploitation of materialism.

Just now I have met with a magazine article in which the phrase "eternal death" is used. The author is an eminent Presbyterian minister, whom I know well. I really could not understand his meaning. I wrote to him asking whether he meant eternal extinction or eternal torment; or whether he threw out the phrase loosely, leaving his readers to take whichever view they chose. Here is his reply:

"I thank you for your kind reference to my articles on the Sunday School Lesson, and note your question about the phrase, 'Eternal Death,' The meaning of the phrase in my mind is largely determined by the meaning of the corresponding phrase, 'Eternal Life.' In His use of the latter phrase, our Lord evidently lays emphasis, not upon the thought of duration, but upon that of quality. Eternal Life is a certain kind of life which He gives to His people now. Similarly, Eternal Death is a state in which people may exist even while they are in this world. It is eternal in regard to duration in this sense, that it has no awakening; its tendency is to persist forever. But that is not to say that God cannot bring one from a state of eternal death into that of eternal life. I do not know whether I have made myself clear, but it is somewhat in this way that the matter presents itself to my mind."

So I am not really much the wiser, except that the reply tends to confirm my opinion as to the ambiguous way in which the phrase is often used.

In my view, such ambiguity is unfortunate in any case, but more especially so when it is used with regard to our eternal future; and even more so when it is used in an article, as in this case, avowedly for children. Does it not lead directly to scepticism? And even if it did not, is it not rather a cruel thing to put upon children the onus of deciding a question of such tremendous importance? Would it not be better to say candidly that we do not know?

To be sure, it may be said that the church is in a state of transition on this question, and that it is better to wait for the church's final decision. But in the meantime, and we do not know for how long, we are sowing the seeds of scepticism. Besides; this avowed waiting for the church's final decision may be only a pious pretense, because of want of courage to declare honest conviction. I say so because I have spoken with many ministers whose convictions are most decidedly contrary to the orthodox doctrines; but there is a marked hesitation in publicly avowing them. Is this expediency or cowardice? What we want is more charity to treat this as an open question, so that men might explore the whole realm of truth, and express their honest convictions without fear.

I see that the Chairman of the London Congregational Union deplores this general lack of warning. He quotes the late Dr. Dale as saying, "No one fears God now."

I have just heard an impassioned address, pleading for men and money to evangelize the multitudes that are pouring into the great North West of Canada. It was natural for the speaker to lay great stress on human effort; but I thought he might have made a casual reference to the Spirit of God as supreme; yet not a word did he utter on that topic. For the most part he presented no higher incentive than the development of character, and the building up of the empire on a foundation of righteousness. But not a word did he utter in regard to the penalty of sin after death on the part of the immigrants, if we fail to give them the Gospel. In fact, there was no hint at all of immortality.

Yet the speaker is a Presbyterian minister who professes to believe in eternal torment. But not a word did he say on that topic. Surely, he might have found the supreme incentive there. It strikes me that a few earnest words along that line would have had more effect than his entire address. That is, if the doctrine of eternal torment is true, and if the preacher believes it. But in all fairness, does not the conviction force itself upon us that he does not believe it? Why, then, does he not say so? Especially, why does he not say so when he is pleading for missions? He is afraid, perhaps, of pains and penalties. Or he may try to convince himself that it is wiser not to be too outspoken; that there is a time for everything; that he might do more harm than good; and so on.

But the truth is divine. No good can come of its suppression, especially on a matter of such eternal moment. And how can we look for further light, if we are unfaithful to the light we have? And what about the character of duplicity we are fostering in our own souls in the name of righteousness?

Listen to these scathing words of warning spoken by Caryle. He says: "What is incredible to thee, thou shalt not at thy soul's peril attempt to believe."

How will it fare with any church that acts so? Will not the light that is in her be darkness? How can we expect to receive growing divine illuminations if we affect to believe what we are convinced is untrue? Would it not be wiser and safer to put all the orthodox Confessions on the shelf--yes, on the top shelf--and take instead such a simple creed as this: "We believe the Scripture to be the Word of God." Then, though we might differ, we would not be afraid to avow, our convictions, and we would not be accounted heretics. Let the dead past bury its dead.

There is another serious consideration. When one of the heathen is converted, especially an intelligent one, how would it do to put into his hands our orthodox Confessions of Faith? Would he not stumble at the doctrine of endless torment? He would think reasonably, of course; not like ourselves who are so dominated by tradition. Then, I say, would he not stumble? If we tried to substantiate the doctrine, would it not be a serious impediment to his faith? On the other hand, if we tried to explain it away, would he not think us a lot of hypocrites?

Professor Faulkner, of Toronto University, said lately, and I think truly, that one reason why theology is now under a cloud, is that men are afraid of heresy. Surely, nothing could be more unfortunate than to carry this spirit into missions.

We do hope that the missionary campaign lately launched will have great success. Only we would like it if it had been launched on a higher plane. It is worthy of the highest.

We are often told that there are a thousand millions of heathen; and our creed teaches us that they are dropping into hell every? day. What could be so compelling a motive in any missionary enterprise as to save some of 'them from such a fate? But it is never mentioned. Is it believed? Certainly, we profess to believe it. But do we? If we do, would it not be the paramount, compelling motive? But instead of that, the main idea is to convert the heathen from savagery to civilization. Make them good citizens--that is the idea. Especially in regard to the influx of immigrants, there seldom seems to be no higher motive than to make them worthy of this great country. I have read just now an article in one of our religious papers, which affects to be very earnest, but to me it seems a mere outburst of quasi-patriotism.

Now is it not time to be honest? The trouble is, that men are afraid to be. We have put the doctrine of endless torment in the Confession, both of the Methodist and of the Presbyterian Churches, and we are afraid to go back on it for fear of the pains and penalties of the church. Moreover, we do not like to confess that for ages we were wrong; and it seems disloyal to go back on the fathers who framed these confessions. So we hang on to them in theory, but repudiate them in fact. Is it not so?

Now, what is the compelling power in all missionary enterprise? To those who believe in endless torment, surely the controlling motive is to save the millions of heathen from such a fate. Both the Presbyterian and Methodist Churches profess to believe in that doctrine. But the singular thing is, that in neither church is it preached. The suspicion is, that it is not believed. And this is more than a suspicion. I myself have heard no sermon on hell, nor any definite reference to it, since I was a child. A Methodist minister in Canada, largely in touch with his brethren, told me lately most positively, that Methodist ministers do not believe in endless torment. Many Presbyterian ministers with whom I have spoken take the same ground.

Now, it is a hard thing to say that a doctrine of such eternal moment is openly professed, yet inwardly repudiated. But if it were really believed, would it not be preached--yes, preached morning, noon, and night? For there are reckoned to be a thousand millions of heathen in distant lands, besides all the other millions that we have here at home. So all these heathen are supposed to be dropping by the thousand into hell every day. And consider; there are a thousand millions of them, and their number is continually increasing.

Would it not then be the main incentive to give these uncounted millions the Gospel, in order to save them from such a doom? There may be other considerations; but in all consistency, is not this the pressing one? Yet not once have I heard this matter referred to in any late missionary address. There was a little spiritual truth in them all. But the chief motive presented was, to convert the heathen from savagery to civilization. So the whole performance usually seemed to me not much more than an exploitation of materialism.

Then, if ministers do not believe in endless torment, why do they not say so? I can imagine two reasons. First, as I have said, there is the fear of pains and penalties. A man may lose his position; and that is a serious consideration. Then there is an unwillingness to go back on the fathers who framed these creeds.

But do either or both of these reasons justify conscientious men in suppressing a truth of such momentous importance? A thousand times, No! Candor and honesty first; veneration for the fathers after. Would it not conduce to real success if this matter were maturely and honestly considered? It might arouse some amount of disunion and debate. But would it not lift the whole tone of the missionary movement to a far higher plane? And might we not believe that it would lead to more sustained effort, and far greater success?

At all events, there is one matter well worth considering. How can the Spirit of Truth lead us into larger visions of Truth if we willingly, tamper with our most sacred convictions? Let us remember that there are growing revelations. May we be of an open mind, and so in an attitude to receive them!

It does seem to me that much of the activity of the evangelical churches is in a large measure discounted by this want of candor. If earnest men only knew how amenable the world would become to the Gospel, and what a glad day they would usher in when they would candidly renounce the doctrine of endless torment, I believe the majority would do it. Surely, this would be one of the brightest days that has ever dawned on the world.

Just now I have had a strange experience. On a certain Sabbath morning I opened the Bible at random at the eleventh chapter of the Romans. That, you know, is the great chapter about the Restoration of the Jews. I had read some verses of that chapter, when there flashed on my mind the idea that here we have a most profound argument for spiritual Restoration. I had not been thinking at all of Restoration at the time; but here the subject was forced upon me in quite a new light. As I read on, that conviction grew. From the point of view of Restoration, the argument of the apostle seemed coherent, profound, glorious. From any other standpoint it seemed to me, and had always seemed, a mystery. All mystery was cleared up now. The Restoration of God's favored people is clearly foretold; but orthodoxy had never thought of locating the event in the next life. But it has ever been a great tax on men's ingenuity to show how the event can occur in this life. For we cannot ignore facts, and facts are all against such a conception.

Even if in future generations the Jews who are then living are all turned to God, as we believe they will, what about the millions and millions who have died? The enigma receives a glorious solution when we realize that the future life is to be the time of the Restoration. Oh, yes; the prophecy will be fulfilled; God's ancient people will be restored. Divine power and grace are not limited to this short epoch of time; they are from everlasting to everlasting. Surely, here is a theme for heaven's eternal songs!

XIII.

PROPHECIES YET TO BE FULFILLED.

Enlarging Vision--Promise to Abraham--A Host of Similar Promises --Many of them Not Merely National--Their Fulfillment--Not Limited by the Short Epoch of Time--The Present Only One Part of the Divine Administration--Why the Revelation Was Not Given Sooner--Groping in the Twilight--Growing Illumination--A Time for Everything--Dazzle or Enlighten--Discoveries in Science and Revelation--Our Slowness in Receiving Spiritual Truth--Limitations of Great Men.

If reason, even when based on revelation, still appears to you a very fallible guide, will you please take note of some direct promises contained in revelation itself? And I would ask you to consider how these promises could ever come true apart from Restoration. There are glorious promises that are partly or wholly of a local or national character. These that I shall cite now are not to be so restricted. They have a far grander sweep and application. No doubt the writers of them may not have been conscious of their full import. But that is the nature of revelation. It grows in meaning from age to age. And the noontide glory of those promises is beginning to break on our larger vision.

Take the words spoken to Abraham: "In thee shall all the families of the earth be blessed." To realize that this promise was of no mere national importance, listen to the way in which Paul applies it in his Epistle to the Galatians. He says: "The Scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the heathen through faith preached before the Gospel unto Abraham, saying, In thee shall all nations be blessed."

Now has that promise been fulfilled? Since Abraham's time have not millions and millions of the families of the earth passed out into darkness unblessed? Other millions of families are passing away now, without having once heard the Saviour's name. And other millions deliberately reject Him. Certainly, all these millions are unblessed, In their case the promise has not been fulfilled. But it will be fulfilled. Beyond the bourne of time it will come true. This glorious enlargement of the scope of the promise takes away all difficulty, and fills us with joy and praise.