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.

Be that as it may, the question must suggest itself to every thoughtful mind, "Where will that man go should he die in the meantime?" He is far too good for the world of woe; yet he is not fit for the better world until his criminal propensities are eliminated. How reasonable it is to believe in—we might say what a moral necessity there is for—a process of development of the good, and elimination of the evil. On the principle that what is good will survive, and that the evil will be extinguished, we can hope for nothing less. And when we remember that all men, and all conditions, and all worlds, are under the control of Him whose love is from everlasting to everlasting, we may believe that such a man's final destiny is the inheritance of the saints.

Another argument is derived very naturally from the case of departed friends whose spiritual condition was doubtful. Have we not known of acquaintances who passed away, of whose spiritual condition we could have no well grounded assurance? But the moment they were gone we became charitable, glossed over their faults, and hoped for the best. Would it not be a far more reasonable thing to do, to imagine them as having passed into some purifying process, from which they would emerge in due time? In the case of many we can believe that such a purifying process might involve no great suffering; and we could endure the thought of it when we believed in its glorious issue. In fact we would become more like God Himself, who is inflicting pain every day with a view to moral perfection by and by.

Well do I remember spending an evening with a personal friend. He was a man of sterling character. In his ordinary demeanor, however, he was a very John Bull of a man; you would not think there was a particle of sentiment in his whole composition. During our conversation, reference was made to the case of departed friends whose spiritual condition was doubtful; and before I knew, my friend utterly broke down and wept. No doubt he was thinking of one in such a case. I could not at that time offer him the consolation of the larger hope; and it is doubtful if with his education he could have accepted such consolation. What a solace it will be, when we can think of departed friends in whom the work of grace was manifestly very incomplete—possibly not begun—as having gone, not into a state of hopeless, everlasting torment—but as having passed into a state where the work of grace will be completed.

But speaking of the reformatory process, there is one circumstance that may seem to indicate that it may be very long. I refer to the fact that Satan has been so long incorrigible. I take him of course to be a conscious personality. In the Word of God I suppose there are a hundred references to him as a person. If you have any doubt on that point look up the references, and I think you will be convinced.

Now, since his temptation of Adam, and we know not how long before, Satan has been persevering in a course of evil. Does not that fact seem to indicate that sinners must have a long period of suffering in the next life before they are reclaimed, if they ever are?

WE HAVE NO DATA.

To this view a number of answers may be given. In the first place, Satan is of another race; we know very little of his former history, or the circumstances of his fall; and we know not if any means for his recovery have been provided. In the next place, a few thousand years may be but a span in the long sweep of his existence. Then further, he does not seem to be in a state of suffering at present. There is a hint in the Book of Revelation that he will be so by and by; and we know not what may be in store for him. As intimated before, some think he will be restored; others think he will be annihilated. With such ignorance of the circumstances of the case, it is plain that we have no data for forming an opinion one way or the other. At the same time, we cannot help being in sympathy with the words of Burns; they certainly touch a chord in all our hearts:

"Then fare ye weel, auld nickey Ben;
O wad ye tak' a thought and men'
Ye aiblins micht—I dinna ken—
Hae still a stake."

As I have said, there are those who teach that Satan will be ultimately extinguished. And they lay down that theory with great positiveness. While there are some hints to that effect in the Word of God, it does not seem to me that they are clear enough to warrant us in being positive. We would hardly expect so much. It is not our business to know much of "other world" affairs for the present.

So far as we may judge, it would appear instead that Satan's long continuance in sin gives some hope of his ultimate Restoration. For the question will naturally arise: Why should God spare him so long, if He foresees that he must be extinguished at last? Why not extinguish him at once, and thus avoid so much temptation to evil? I am by no means curious on such a question. I merely cite these possibilities to show that the subject is utterly beyond us.

It really comes to this, that on such high topics it is wise to be reverently silent. But with the fact that we do not know, we ally the privilege of eternal hope. So we would say with Tennyson:

"Behold, we know not anything;
We can but trust that good shall fall,
At last far off, at last to all;
And every winter change to spring."

If you dissent from some of the views I have advanced, I would ask you not to be hasty in forming conclusions. It may be that after some years you will see differently. I was myself many years before coming to entertain these views. But they were growing on me, perhaps unconsciously, and at length they took this pronounced form. It may be so with you. The ideas which you entertain now may be perhaps the result of early training as much as of patient study. Let us ever look for divine guidance. We have the promise. "Ye shall know the truth; and the truth shall make you free."

* * * * *

I cannot but forecast the new era of joy that will come to the world when the doctrine of Restoration is generally accepted. It will be like a burst of sunlight from behind a dark cloud. The world is sad; and I am convinced that one cause of its sadness is the dark view of endless torment that has so long prevailed. The view, from long habit, may be held almost unconsciously; but the dark shadow of it has cast a heavy gloom over human life. What an uplift all hearts will have, what a radiance of joy will be infused into life, we can now but dimly anticipate. Then we can adopt the dictum of Browning, and it will be no cheap optimism:

"God's in His heaven;
All's right with the world."

After all, that is only our poor human way of expressing the majestic thought, "The Lord God omnipotent reigneth!"