Love's Final Victory / Ultimate Universal Salvation on the Basis of Scripture and Reason

by Horatio

Well do I remember the night when on seeing the sudden glow of a firefly there flashed on my mind the idea of the ease and naturalness with which, after all, this fleshly body of ours may become immortal and glorious. If an insect like that can transform itself at pleasure into a little star, who can say what latent power may be lodged in the body of a glorified saint? Truly, "it doth not yet appear what we shall be." No; but we have hints of it that may well fill us with an adoring hope and joy.

There were times when Christ's eternal power and Godhead could not be quite obscured by the fleshly body, but would shine out through this tabernacle of clay, as we may suppose the shekinah glory of old would shine through every crack or crevice in the temple. It was a hint of the coming glory in which we may all shine by and by.

There is a divine sense of beauty implanted in every one of us. Have you never noticed how the beautiful things in the shop windows attract all the ragged urchins of the street? Yes, they may be ragged and dirty, but the divine instinct of beauty is in every one of them. Whatever is really beautiful—whether it be a beautiful face, or a beautiful sky, or even a beautiful ribbon in a window—is sure to attract and fascinate them.

Now this instinct, which is so universal, is intended, I believe, to have its final and full development in God. He is the Source and Essence of all beauty. All the beautiful things that surround us here are but glimmerings of the Eternal Loveliness. These beautiful things educate and develop our taste for the final and full fruition of the very beauty of God. When we see Him—and not till then—will our sense of beauty be satisfied.

It is curious and very charming to notice the variety of effects of sunsets. I saw a sunset on the Yellowstone River which, though not remarkable in itself, suggested to me the boundless variety of effect. Glinting and shimmering through the green foliage of the trees the distant river was aglow with crimson and gold, reminding me of the celestial "sea of glass mingled with fire," And if we have such beauty and variety here, what unimagined beauty and what endless variety must be there.

Can you cherish the sweet memory of a sainted father, or mother, or child? If you can, that sacred memory will be a purifying, ennobling influence for you all your life long. Our sainted dead are not quite lost to us; the dear face Is seen again as the face of an angel; the familiar tones come back to us like music in our dreams. And these blessed memories do not seem to fade; on the contrary, they seem to grow more vivid and spiritual with the lapse of years. Sometimes, when such memories would make us ashamed of ourselves and our sin, we may try to crush them out of sight and hearing. We cannot sin comfortably with those faces before our eyes, and those tones ringing in our ears. But such memories will not be utterly banished; they come back suddenly, when they are not expected; they pursue us like good spirits from a world unseen. Eternity alone will tell how often a course of sin was arrested, and the penitent wooed to a better life by the memory of a sainted friend. I regard these holy memories as God's guardian angels. They follow us with tender ministries of love; they often raise us when we fall; they lift us above the dull level of the world; they nourish in us higher ideals of purity and blessedness; they foster a more vivid faith in the world unseen.

A dark, heavy, threatening cloud everspreads the face of the heavens. But that cloud is heavy, and dark, and threatening, only on this side. The other side, if we could but see it, is ablaze with heavenly radiance. We can easily imagine that this storm cloud of ours may be seen on the other side by angels, and that they gaze with admiration on its glowing colors, as we gaze in admiration on the golden glories of a sunset. How different the cloud appears as seen from this side and from that. And we may well believe that it is just so with death. Death does appear to us a very dark and heavy cloud; but it is so only when seen from this side. Wait until we get above the cloud, and then what was gloomy will be radiant. Death has two sides; the dark side that is turned to earth; and the bright side that is seen from heaven.

In many of the glorious scenes depicted in Scripture, especially in the Book of the Revelation, it is not easy for us to say how much is figurative and how much is literal. Sometimes in grand mountain scenery, when the clouds settle upon the lofty peaks, we cannot say what is mountain and what is cloud. If we were near the mountain top we might distinguish; but we cannot do so down here in the valley.

So we have in the Scripture a glorious cloud of symbolism hovering, upon the peaks of the eternal mountains; but we are too far down in this valley to discern between what is mountain and what is cloud. We may hope to get higher by and by, and then what is hazy and undefined will be seen in its true form and outline. "Now we know in part; but when that which is perfect is come then that which is in part shall be done away."

On a certain evening, as night was coming on, I stood on the shore of a romantic watering place. The tide was breaking on the sandy beach. The crests of the waves sparkled with phosphoric scintillations. Like a thing of life, the light flashed along the shore; and the green and blue and amber and white of the rippling waves sparkled like incandescent fire. As I looked at the spectacle I thought, as I had never thought before, of the "sea of glass mingled with fire" described by St. John in the Apocalypse. Yes, we have hints here of the glorious things to be seen there. Surely God has flashed these beauties on the earth and sea that through them we might lift our thoughts and our hearts to heaven.