The state of the dead and the destiny of the wicked

by Uriah Smith

“For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. But if I live in the flesh, this is the fruit of my labor: yet what I shall choose I wot not. For I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart and to be with Christ; which is far better. Nevertheless, to abide in the flesh is more needful for you.”

Willing to go with our friends as far as we can in their interpretation of any passage, we raise no issue here on the word depart. Paul probably means by it the same as in 2 Tim. 4:6, where he says, “The time of my departure is at hand,” referring to his approaching death. Then Paul, immediately on dying, was to be with Christ. Not so fast. The very point intended to be proved has, in such a conclusion, to be assumed. Paul had in view two conditions: this present state, and the future state. Between these two he was in a strait. The cause of God on earth, the interests of the church, stirring to its very depths his large and sympathetic heart, drew him here; his own desires drew him to the future state of victory and rest. And so evenly balanced were the influences drawing him in either direction, that he hardly knew upon which course he would decide, were it left to him as a matter of choice. Nevertheless, he said that it was more needful for the church that he remain here, to give them still the benefit of his counsel and his labors.

The state or condition to which he looked forward was one which he greatly desired. About four years before he wrote these words to the Philippians, he had written to the Corinthians, telling them what he did desire, and what he did not desire, in reference to the future. Said he, “Not that we would be unclothed.” 2 Cor. 5:4. By being unclothed, he meant the state of death, from the cessation of mortal life to the resurrection. This he did not desire; but he immediately adds what he did desire, namely, to be “clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life;” and when this is done, all that is mortal of us is made immortal, the dead are raised, and the body is redeemed. Rom. 8:23; 1 Cor. 15:52, 53.

In writing to the Corinthians, he thus stated that the object of his desire was to be clothed upon, and have mortality swallowed up of life; to the Philippians he stated that the object of his desire was to be with Christ. These expressions, then, mean the same thing. Therefore, in Phil. 1:23, Paul passes over the state of death, the unclothed state, just as he had done to the Corinthians; for he would not tell the Corinthians that he did not desire a certain state, and four years after write to the Philippians that he did desire it. Paul did not thus contradict himself.

But this intermediate state is the disputed territory in this controversy; the condition of the dead therein is the very point in question: and on this the text before us is entirely silent.

This is the vulnerable point in the popular argument on this text. It is assumed that the being with Christ takes place immediately on the departure. But, while the text asserts nothing of this kind, multitudes of other texts affirm that the point when we gain immortality and the presence of Christ, is a point in the future beyond the resurrection. And, unless some necessary connection can be shown between the departing and the being with Christ, and the hosts of texts which make our entrance into Christ’s presence a future event can be harmonized therewith, any attempt to prove consciousness in death from this text is an utter failure.

Landis seems to feel the weakness of his side in this respect, and spends the strength of his argument, pp. 224-229, in trying to make the inference appear necessary that the being with Christ must be immediate on the departure. He would have us think it utterly absurd and nonsensical to suppose a moment to elapse between the two events.

Let us then see if there is anything in Paul’s language which contradicts the idea that a period of utter unconsciousness, of greater or less length, intervenes between death and our entrance into the future life. In the first place, if the unconsciousness is absolute, as we suppose, the space passed over in the individual’s experience is an utter blank. There is not the least perception, with such person, of the lapse of a moment of time. When consciousness returns, the line of thought is taken up at the very point where it ceased, without the consciousness of a moment’s interruption. This fact is often proved by actual experience. Persons have been known to become utterly unconscious by a fracture of the skull, and a portion of it being depressed upon the brain, suspending its action. Perhaps when the accident happened they were in the act of issuing an order, or giving directions to those about them. They have lain unconscious for months, and then been relieved by a surgical operation; and when the brain began again to act, and consciousness returned, they have immediately spoken and completed the sentence they were in the act of uttering when they were struck down, months before. This shows that to these persons there was no consciousness of any time intervening, more than what passes between the words of a sentence which we are speaking. It was all the same to them as if they had at once completed the sentence they commenced to utter, instead of having weeks and months of unconsciousness thrown in between the words of which that sentence was composed.

So with the dead. They are not aware of the lapse of a moment of time between their death and the resurrection. A wink of the eye shuts out for an instant the sight of all objects, but it is so instantaneous that we do not perceive any interruption of the rays of vision. Six thousand years in the grave to a dead man is no more than a wink of the eye to the living. To them, consciousness, our only means of measuring time, is gone; and it will seem to them when they awake that absolutely none has elapsed. When Abel awakes from the dead, it will seem to him, until his attention is attracted by the new scenes of immortality to which he will be raised, that he is rising up from the murderous blows of Cain, under which he had seemingly just fallen. And to Stephen, who died beholding the exaltation of Christ in Heaven, it will be the same as if he had, without a moment’s interruption, entered into his glorious presence. And when Paul himself shall be raised, it will seem to him that the stroke of the executioner was his translation to glory.

Such being the indisputable evidence of facts upon this point, we ask how a person, understanding this matter, would speak of the future life, if he expected to obtain it in the kingdom of God? Would he speak of passing long ages in the grave before he reached it? He might, if he designed to state, for any one’s instruction, the actual facts in the case; but if he was speaking simply of his own experience, it would not be proper for him to mention the intervening time, because he would not be conscious of any such time, and it would not seem to him on awaking to life again that any such period had elapsed.