It is a most unfortunate thing that we have derived from our bloodthirsty ancestors an impression of divine cruelty that is utterly opposed to the fact. And it is not so very long ago that such traditions were handed down to us. "What we forget," says the New York Evening Post, "is the short distance of time and space that separates us from our ferocious forefathers." Dr. Johnson in his 'Journey to the Western Islands,' relates the tradition that the Macdonalds—honored name to-day—surrounded the Culloden Church on Sunday, fastened the doors, and burnt the congregation alive. The entertainment received its perfecting touch when the Macdonald piper mocked the shrieks of the perishing crowd with the notes of his bagpipes.
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"Perhaps an even more striking illustration of the survival of savagery may be found in men's religious beliefs—say, in the conception of a God who is a cruel man endowed with omnipotence. Grave divines were telling us within a generation that a just and merciful Father, for his good pleasure, had doomed certain of the non-elect to the most hideous physical tortures for all eternity. It was in 1879, about thirty years ago, that Herbert Spencer in 'The Data of Ethics,' stated the theory quite nakedly: The belief that the sight of suffering is pleasing to the gods,' He added: 'Derived from bloodthirsty ancestors, such gods are naturally conceived as gratified by the infliction of pain; when living they delighted in torturing other beings; and witnessing torture is supposed still to give them delight. The implied conceptions long survive.'
"Some of our readers may recall the attacks upon Spencer, and even upon clergymen otherwise orthodox, like the late Frederick William Farrar, who doubted the doctrine of eternal torture."
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We hope we are beginning to survive such false and horrible ideas. Those ferocious representations are the very contrary of the truth. To get the truest conceptions of God, we have to think of man at his highest; and even then we are as far below the reality as the earth is below the stars. We are made in the image of God, however, and are a human transcript of the divine. But we are finite at our best, while God is infinite. Beyond all human thought His love is strong, and tender, and unchangeable. He is veritably our Father, and I think He is so in a far closer relation than mere creation. If we can think of the possibility of delight in torturing our children, ten thousand times more repugnance would God have in torturing us, except for a time, and for the highest and wisest ends.
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If we go back to medieval times we have the most revolting pictures of the agonies of hell. We are told, for instance, of a certain monk who in the course of his journeys came to the underworld, and there he found "a fiery glen 'darkened with the mists of death,' and covered with a great lid, hotter than the fires themselves. On the lid sat a huge multitude of souls, burning, 'till they were melted, like garlic in a pan with the glow thereof.' Reaching the nethermost hell, he was shown the Prince of Darkness, black as a raven from head to foot, thousand-handed and with a long thick tail covered with fiery spikes, 'lying on an iron hurdle over fiery gledes, a bellows on each side of him, and a crowd of demons blowing it.'
"As he lay there roasting, tossing from side to side, filled with rage and fury, he grasped the souls in his rough, thick hands, bruising and crushing them, as a man would crush grapes to squeeze out the wine. With his fiery, stinking breath, he scattered the souls about Hell, and as he drew in his breath again he swallowed them down with it, and those whom his hands could not reach he lashed with his tail. This, the angel explained, was Lucifer."
Unfortunately, however, medieval ages had no monopoly of such horrors.
They have survived almost to our time. In some cases they are reproduced
even yet. It is a painful thing to recall, but even our late beloved
Spurgeon at times fell into this snare.