I am not at all surprised to hear people, who all their life-time have lived in the shade and gloom and sorrow of a dark, repulsive, and cruel theology, say, “Universalism is too good to be true.” There is such a vast difference between that partial, gloomy creed, and “the grace of God which bringeth salvation to all men,” I do not wonder they think the latter too good to be true. It is certainly true, that we do not merit, by any act of ours, such blessings, and are lost in wonder when we reflect on the immense provisions our heavenly Father has provided for us, and nothing short of the best of evidence makes us rest in our glorious hope. But our hope is based on a sure foundation—on the character, purpose, and promises of God. On this divine trinity we found our faith, and rejoice with joy unspeakable, and full of glory.
But the doctrine of endless misery is too bad to be true. The theory, that consigns countless millions of mankind to the wrath of God, and the flames of hell, is altogether too bad to be true. Before I can subscribe to such a monstrous creed, I must believe God to be the worst being in the universe—has no love, mercy, justice, goodness, but is the very essence of cruelty and malignity; I must believe all this ere I can, for a moment, harbor the thought that he can be the author of ceaseless suffering. But while I have reason to rejoice in his goodness, I will cling to the faith the gentleman thinks is “too good to be true.”
CHAPTER XII.
Discussion in Franklin—Justice of God—What the Gospel Is?—Society Organized—Discourse on Total Depravity—Conversation with a Presbyterian Minister on Christian Rewards—Talk with a Catholic—A Methodist—A Presbyterian—A Campbellite—Salvation—A Mormon Sermon—Reply to It—A Journey to Louisville and Cincinnati.
While I resided in Terre Haute, I had a debate in Franklin, Ind., with A. L. Edmonds, on the final destiny of man. The discussion continued four days. Mr. Edmonds dwelt long and emphatically on the Justice of God—claimed that it required the endless wretchedness of offenders. I replied as follows, and he dropped that subject:
It is said that Justice requires the endless suffering of some men. That, although the goodness, mercy, and benevolence of the Deity may be in favor of the ultimate happiness of all men, yet his justice requires that the wicked, who die in their sins, should be doomed to suffer unending torment. The system of faith into which is incorporated, as one of its parts, the doctrine of endless punishment, suspends the final state of men upon the condition they are in when they leave this world. The question is not how they have lived, but how they have died. This is the point—the pivot—upon which is made to turn the immortal destinies of men. No matter how sinful a man may live all his life—“though as wicked as Cain, and corrupt as Mary Magdalene with her seven devils,” if he only repent, believe in the Lord Jesus—join the church—or, in fine, “get religion” just before he dies, all will be well with him—his reward will be heaven. While on the other hand, no matter how moral, upright and godly a man may live, though he may have known and obeyed the Scriptures from his youth up to a good old age, discharged all his duties as a humble and faithful Christian, and been the means of blessing hundreds of his fellow beings, both temporally and spiritually; yet, “if he fall from grace,” and become a sinner, even but one day before his death, and die in that state, he, poor old man, must go to hell!
This is a briefly drawn picture of the system advocated by that class of men which seem to be such sticklers for justice. If any should say such a system is opposed to reason, the Bible, and every principle of justice and rectitude, all I have to say is, I can’t help it. But it is nevertheless a true and faithful representation, so far as it goes, of the orthodox plan of salvation and damnation—“nothing extenuated, nor aught set down in malice.” Nor all its advocates can do, will ever be sufficient, to make the system appear anything different from this representation. Indeed, I do not think they will try to do it,—they believe and understand it, as I have described it. Let it stand so then, as good and wholesome Orthodoxy, while I instance a few cases for illustration, that we may be the better enabled to see some of the monstrosities and legitimate conclusions which must forever follow from the above admitted premises.
1. Charles and Henry were brothers—twin brothers; they lived together until they had attained their twentieth year, when Charles died; and as he had made no profession of religion, he was sentenced to endless pains. Had Henry died at the same time, he would have shared a similar doom, for he was as destitute of religion as his brother; luckily for him, however, he lived until his seventieth year, during the whole of which time he was in an unconverted state, except the last six months; for the last six months he had lived a pious life, and consequently was admitted, after his death, to heaven.
“The punishment of sin,” saith my friend, “does not take place here, but is deferred until the sinner reaches the spiritual world.” Consequently, Henry received no punishment in this world, for his long career of sinfulness; and it will not be pretended that he received it after he arrived in heaven—he was therefore not punished at all. But how fares it with his brother Charles? He, poor fellow, must welter in quenchless flames, for the crimes of his brief existence. Has God rendered to these twins according to justice?
2. Two young men attempt the murder of a man for money, and while engaged in the foul deed, one of them is killed accidentally, by his comrade, from the discharge of a pistol, and, of course, goes immediately to hell—to an endless hell? The other succeeds in assassinating his victim—takes his money, which is sufficient to purchase a vessel; one is procured, and after obtaining a crew to his mind, he launches forth upon the “great deep,” an abandoned pirate. Hark! do you hear those cries which float upon the night air of the South Sea? They come from a ship in distress. Hark again! those were the cries of women; the young mother, and the “gay guiltless” maiden are there. The youth and the man of gray hairs—but the sounds of lamentation have ceased—all is over with them. The pirate ship has been there, and the unfortunate have all been doomed; for alas, they had no religion. Forty years pass, and the pirate is arraigned before a tribunal of justice—is condemned—and confesses that, besides the innumerable abominations he has committed in his long life of wickedness, he has been accessory to the murder of four hundred persons! What must be done with him? hell is too good for him! Yes, hell is too good for him, and, of course, he must go to heaven. A few days are given him—he repents—and swings from the gallows off to glory. There, from his exalted station of bliss, he looks down into the abodes of the damned, and sees scores of immortal, wretched beings, sent there by his own hands. Among his unfortunate victims, he sees the innocent girl of sixteen, and the gray-headed father—and there, too, is his first companion of crime, who fell ere he completed his first deed of wickedness. Is this justice? the justice of an infinitely just God? Oh mockery!