Just now I have met with a magazine article in which the phrase "eternal death" is used. The author is an eminent Presbyterian minister, whom I know well. I really could not understand his meaning. I wrote to him asking whether he meant eternal extinction or eternal torment; or whether he threw out the phrase loosely, leaving his readers to take whichever view they chose. Here is his reply:
"I thank you for your kind reference to my articles on the Sunday School Lesson, and note your question about the phrase, 'Eternal Death,' The meaning of the phrase in my mind is largely determined by the meaning of the corresponding phrase, 'Eternal Life.' In His use of the latter phrase, our Lord evidently lays emphasis, not upon the thought of duration, but upon that of quality. Eternal Life is a certain kind of life which He gives to His people now. Similarly, Eternal Death is a state in which people may exist even while they are in this world. It is eternal in regard to duration in this sense, that it has no awakening; its tendency is to persist forever. But that is not to say that God cannot bring one from a state of eternal death into that of eternal life. I do not know whether I have made myself clear, but it is somewhat in this way that the matter presents itself to my mind."
So I am not really much the wiser, except that the reply tends to confirm my opinion as to the ambiguous way in which the phrase is often used.
In my view, such ambiguity is unfortunate in any case, but more especially so when it is used with regard to our eternal future; and even more so when it is used in an article, as in this case, avowedly for children. Does it not lead directly to scepticism? And even if it did not, is it not rather a cruel thing to put upon children the onus of deciding a question of such tremendous importance? Would it not be better to say candidly that we do not know?
To be sure, it may be said that the church is in a state of transition on this question, and that it is better to wait for the church's final decision. But in the meantime, and we do not know for how long, we are sowing the seeds of scepticism. Besides; this avowed waiting for the church's final decision may be only a pious pretense, because of want of courage to declare honest conviction. I say so because I have spoken with many ministers whose convictions are most decidedly contrary to the orthodox doctrines; but there is a marked hesitation in publicly avowing them. Is this expediency or cowardice? What we want is more charity to treat this as an open question, so that men might explore the whole realm of truth, and express their honest convictions without fear.
I see that the Chairman of the London Congregational Union deplores this general lack of warning. He quotes the late Dr. Dale as saying, "No one fears God now."
I have just heard an impassioned address, pleading for men and money to evangelize the multitudes that are pouring into the great North West of Canada. It was natural for the speaker to lay great stress on human effort; but I thought he might have made a casual reference to the Spirit of God as supreme; yet not a word did he utter on that topic. For the most part he presented no higher incentive than the development of character, and the building up of the empire on a foundation of righteousness. But not a word did he utter in regard to the penalty of sin after death on the part of the immigrants, if we fail to give them the Gospel. In fact, there was no hint at all of immortality.
Yet the speaker is a Presbyterian minister who professes to believe in eternal torment. But not a word did he say on that topic. Surely, he might have found the supreme incentive there. It strikes me that a few earnest words along that line would have had more effect than his entire address. That is, if the doctrine of eternal torment is true, and if the preacher believes it. But in all fairness, does not the conviction force itself upon us that he does not believe it? Why, then, does he not say so? Especially, why does he not say so when he is pleading for missions? He is afraid, perhaps, of pains and penalties. Or he may try to convince himself that it is wiser not to be too outspoken; that there is a time for everything; that he might do more harm than good; and so on.
But the truth is divine. No good can come of its suppression, especially on a matter of such eternal moment. And how can we look for further light, if we are unfaithful to the light we have? And what about the character of duplicity we are fostering in our own souls in the name of righteousness?
Listen to these scathing words of warning spoken by Caryle. He says: "What is incredible to thee, thou shalt not at thy soul's peril attempt to believe."