Those who hold the larger view have no need for such evasions. I have just had a letter from one of the most eminent English theologians, in which he states his view thus:
"With regard to the future world, my faith and doctrine have always been that the state of anyone entering the next world is tested and determined by his relation to Christ, Whom he will then see in the fullness of all His redeeming power and glory. If he then seek by a touch to lay hold of Him, he is in Christ's Hand. If he should even then turn from Christ, he will enter into a new condition, but that condition is only an age-long condition, and he is not there fore outside the redeeming love of God; but at the end of the new age will enter upon a new state."
I have pointed out to him that, in my view, the condition he refers to may not necessarily be age-long condition, but that in certain cases it may be very brief. The case of Saul and others seem to favor this view. In any case, he endorses my main contention—that suffering is not endless. The same mail brought me also a letter from another notable English divine, in which he says candidly that he does not believe in endless suffering, and that this is common sense.
I remember well that as a child I was confused by the following problem. My saintly old minister often prayed that the earth might be filled with the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea. That was all very well for those who would savingly know the Lord. But what about the uncounted millions in the past and the millions now, and the millions yet to be born, who would go out of this world in darkness, without knowing the Lord. The minister never said a word about that. His creed required him to believe that they would all go into endless torment; but he passed over the momentous question in silence.
Possibly he would say that the matter was not a proper one to be spoken of. But why not? If there is such a fearful possibility for anyone, why should he not be warned? The very warning might be the means of averting such a fate. Surely, the most lurid picture of eternal woe would be better than the realization of it. Yet it was seldom or never spoken of, especially as to its duration.
Here, then, is a most serious consideration. If we can think of God doing a thing, the horror of which we cannot bear to speak of, or even to think of, is there not in this a strong presumption that the theory is not true? Let this thought revolve for a while through your mind; remember the strong affinity which the mind has for truth; and then see if the thought which I am trying here to sustain is not a reasonable one. Surely, we have here a strong argument against the theory of endless torment.
There was lately a great Missionary Conference in Edinburgh. Amongst other matters, all sorts of expedients were discussed as to how the heathen of different countries could be most successfully reached. Certain doctrines of Christianity were recognized as best fitting to be presented to certain countries, as especially suited to meet the special conditions that prevail. Strange to say, so far as I saw any report, the doctrine of everlasting punishment was not once suggested as being especially appropriate. Yet if it is true, what could be more appropriate to the heathen mind of all countries? Is it really believed by Missionaries, and those who support them? If it is, why not present it? If it is not, why not expunge it from our stated confession of faith? Can we not afford to be honest on this supremely sacred question? When an intelligent heathen is converted to the Christian faith, and realizes that we profess to believe what we do not really believe, what will he think of us? Will not the Christian church lose more than it gains by this worldly wisdom, which essentially is moral cowardice?
A devout use of the imagination is of great service here. Yes, I say the imagination. I do not mean the revelling of mere fancy in the realm of the unthinkable or the impossible. I mean the vivid realization of facts that lie outside the ordinary rut of thought. So exercised, imagination is one of our noblest powers.
We need a devout, yet chastened, imagination in dealing with such themes as the one we are considering now. No wonder that Ruskin says that imagination is the greatest power of the soul. It is but reasonable to imagine, then, that God has disclosures of love, and wisdom, and power, to make in the next life, that far transcend our present thought.