01.11. Meditation 11

MEDITATION 11.

"This is my comfort in my affliction" Psalms 119:50

"Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. We live by faith, not by sight. We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord." 2 Corinthians 5:6-8 That the souls of believers are made perfect at death, is one of those delightful doctrines which Scripture clearly teaches, and of which a revelation from God alone could give us full assurance. That the soul is not destroyed when the body is dissolved — that it survives the decay and wreck of our physical frame — that our rational and moral faculties are neither benumbed into a state of insensibility, nor suspended in their exercise, by that solemn event which terminates our connection with the present world — but, on the contrary, our souls are freed from every encumbrance by which their exercise had here been cramped or interrupted, and translated into a state wherein they shall continue to expand, and act with greater vigor than before. These are some of the sublimest truths of Scripture, and they open to us a prospect which has no limit — the prospect of an eternal existence — a never-dying consciousness, which, as it feeds an elevating hope respecting the future, so it should teach us now to entertain a reverence for ourselves, as beings over whom death itself shall have no permanent power.

It is true, we must submit to that humiliating method of departing out of this world, which God has imposed as the wages of sin. We enter not on eternity as by a "triumphal march," but through suffering, and agony, and shame. The body is dissolved, and decays, and it must be interred in the dark and lonesome grave — but our nobler nature, the soul, survives. Looking on the agonies of dissolving nature, or on the dreary stillness which follows, we might have supposed, that here was a final period of conscious existence — that all was over with the busy, active, and restless spirit, which, for years, had fluttered amidst the cares or pleasures of the world. But no, that spirit is not dead, it is only departed, and will appear again on another scene. In reference to believers, the apostle distinctly affirms, that death only makes a change in the residence or abode of the never-dying soul; that heretofore it was at home in the body and absent from the Lord. But at death, the same soul is absent from the body and present with the Lord. And grounded on this fact, he expresses a preference for the latter state, the state which shall come after death, for this reason — that, in our present condition, both our character and our happiness are alike defective; whereas, in our future one, both our character and our happiness shall be better and more secure.

Now, this implies, that such a change takes place at the hour of death, as is fitly denoted by the difference between an imperfect and a perfect condition — and as is sufficient to warrant a desire on our part, to enter, even though it is by death, on that more perfect and glorious state. We must experience it before we shall be able to describe the change which the soul undergoes at the hour of its departure from the body. But there are two considerations which may help us to see that there is a great change, and that, in the case of the believer, it is an enormous change for the better. The first is, that so long as the soul is united to the body, and dwells upon the earth, it is in a situation which subjects it to great difficulty, and exposes it to numerous temptations and trials. The mere presence of the body, with all its numerous wants and weaknesses, and with the instincts and passions which a physical existence implies — the remaining power of indwelling sin, or that law in the members which wars against the law of the mind — the presence, too, of an evil world, which exerts an unfavorable influence on the spiritual life — and above all, the necessary conditions of our present state, as these are described by the apostle, when he says, "we walk by faith, and not by sight" — and again, "when we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord" — these evils or defects, which cleave necessarily to the believer in his present state, and by which his spiritual progress is impeded, and his spiritual comfort impaired — are, all of them, removed by death, seeing that then the soul is emancipated from the body, delivered out of an evil world, and no longer retained in a state of absence from God! From these it is delivered; and that is one important consideration. The second is, that the soul is placed at death in another state, as favorable to its holiness and happiness as the former was unfavorable. It is present with the Lord, says the apostle, and no longer walks by faith — but faith has been converted into vision. All the realities of the spiritual world, formerly believed in on the testimony of God — are now disclosed to it, and its own sensible experience is superadded to the evidence hitherto enjoyed. This is the clear import of the passage. Believers may, indeed, be said to excel other men in the present state, inasmuch as, while others walk by sight of things now seen, believers walk by faith of things unseen. But departed believers do, in like manner, excel those presently on the earth, seeing that while the latter walk by faith and not by sight, the former have something more than faith itself, they have a personal experience and observation in that better world, of those things which we only believe. And hence the apostle, contrasting the present with the future state of believers, says, "Now we see through a glass darkly — but then face to face. Now we know in part — but then shall we know even as also we are known. When that which is perfect is come — then that which is in part shall be done away." This change in the condition of a believing soul, may well serve to account for its being now made perfect; and hence, we read of "the spirits of just men made perfect;" and of those who, having washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb, are now before the throne of God, and serve him day and night in his temple; who hunger no more, neither thirst any more — but the Lamb who is in the midst of the throne, feeds them, and leads them unto living fountains of water, and God wipes away all tears from their eyes!

Let it be carefully observed, however, that the apostle is speaking here of true Christians who had undergone the great initial change of regeneration, and in whom the work of sanctification had made some progress. In reference to them he says, that what had hitherto been imperfect in their state and character — is made perfect by their translation out of this world into another and a better world. But death is not a means of conversion or of sanctification in itself, and can have no effect in ridding those of their corruptions who have cherished them all their lives long, and who die impenitent and unpardoned. The death of the body has no efficacy in destroying the ruling principles of any human soul — it only changes its situation, and leaves those principles to develop themselves more freely and more fully in eternity. And hence, while a converted and sanctified man will find himself, after death, relieved from various encumbrances which had marred his spiritual progress on earth, and furnished with new and better facilities in Heaven — an unconverted man, although absent from the body, will not, on that account, be present with the Lord; but "being banished from his presence," and given over to the society of reprobate spirits — his wicked character will still cleave to him, and the bitterness and hopelessness of his condition will mainly consist in his being left, through eternity, just as death found him — the willing and wretched slave of his own lusts! The apostle’s language clearly implies that the souls of believers do immediately pass into glory. Their disembodied state, it is true, differs widely, both from their condition on earth, and from their ultimate condition after the resurrection. Their bodies are for a season laid in the grave, and shall rest there until the trumpet shall sound and the dead be raised. Their full and perfect redemption shall not be realized, until soul and body shall come together at the judgment of the great day. But what we affirm is, that even their disembodied state, differing, as it unquestionably does, both from their previous and their ultimate one — is neither a state of insensibility, nor a state of indecision, nor a state of probation and trial; but that, immediately on their leaving the body, they become sensible of their condition, and are admitted to partake of those pleasures which God has prepared for them that love him. With what organs they are furnished, in what form they live, or whether any new form is bestowed upon them — is nowhere clearly pointed out in Scripture; although, from the case of Moses and Elijah, who appeared visibly along with our Lord on the Mount, as well as from the souls whom John saw under the altar in the Apocalypse, and the vision of Lazarus and Abraham, represented in one of the parables — it may be presumed that some visible outward form is given to them. But whatever opinion may be formed on these speculative points, and respecting which, as being speculative, Scripture gives no very explicit information. Yet the great fact is revealed, that their state is fixed and settled from the hour of each man’s death; that they are sensible of that state, and derive from it a measure of happiness far transcending any which the maturest Christian can either enjoy or hope for upon the earth. This is conclusively established by the apostle’s language. His statement is, that so long as a believer is "at home in the body, he is absent from the Lord." He represents "presence with the Lord" as immediately following our departure from the body, otherwise there could be no ground for the preference which in this and in another passage the apostle expresses. Comparing his state on earth, with that which would follow immediately on the death of the body, he says, "we are willing rather to be absent from the body, and present with the Lord." And again, "I am in a strait between two, having a desire to depart and to be with Christ, which is far better."

It is evident that there could have been no ground for the apostle’s hesitation in this matter, on the supposition that his death was not to be followed immediately with glory. If, after death, we were to remain in a state of insensibility until the resurrection, then out of a regard to his own happiness, and from the strong desire which he felt to be useful to the Church on earth — he must have been anxious to protract the term of his mortal pilgrimage; and no reason can be assigned for his preferring death to life, which is not based on the supposition, that death would afford an immediate introduction into the presence of God and of Christ. And accordingly, thus he speaks of it, "absent from the body, and present with the Lord" — "to depart, and to be with Christ, which is far better!" His words not only intimate, that believers are at death made perfect, and that they do immediately pass into glory — but he declares his willingness to depart, "we are willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord." The apostle does not quarrel with the present life; he was neither discontented with the world — nor reluctant to remain in it. On the contrary, in stating his willingness to depart, he is careful to intimate his entire acquiescence in the disposal of Providence, as to his living or dying. He draws a comparison between his present and his future state, not as between a bad and a good — but as between a good and a better. He prefers Heaven — but is not discontented upon the earth. He would rather be absent from the body and present with the Lord. But so long as God had work for him to do, he was prepared, in the spirit of meek, and patient, and resigned submission, to say with Job, "All the days of my appointed time I will wait, until my change comes." In like manner, in the parallel passage, having expressed his desire to depart, he adds, "nevertheless, to abide in the flesh is more needful for you; and having this confidence, I know that I shall abide and continue with you all, for your furtherance and joy of faith." What nobler attitude can a rational spirit assume, than that in which the apostle appears in these passages — when, with a calm and comprehensive eye, he seems to survey the whole prospect which lies before him, as an immortal being, and seeing it divided into two parts of very unequal magnitude — the one, a short span of time — the other, the vast expanse of eternity — regards time as the youth, and eternity as the manhood of his being; the present life as the season of duty and preparation, in which he must be disciplined and trained; and the life to come, as the season of matured wisdom and perfect enjoyment; the earth as the antechamber of Heaven, and death the mere portal which opens between the two. And while he longs for Heaven, and feels the trials of his present lot, he is, nevertheless, patiently submissive to God’s will, in the assurance, that so long as he is continued here, God has work for him to do, and that, sooner or later, all his trials shall terminate in victory, and all his labors in a glorious reward! In explanation of the apostle’s preference, let it be observed, that his language does not imply either that he made light of death, or that he had no dislike or aversion to it considered in itself. There is, indeed, a slavish fear of death, through which some are all their lifetime subject to bondage, and from which the apostle was delivered, as it was the Savior’s design to deliver all his disciples. But there is a natural fear of death, which is, in some sense, a necessary attendant or result of the great primary law of self-preservation — a law, which, like every other ordination of God, bespeaks the wisdom and goodness of him by whom it was established. Had we no aversion from suffering, and no fear of death — we might rashly or carelessly expose ourselves to such danger, and incur such calamities as would abridge our term of existence, and send us prematurely out of this state of being. Nor is this all; it is hardly possible to conceive how much God’s moral government would suffer, were that natural law reversed, whereby pain and suffering are made sensible and alarming evils. For, were men less averse than they now are to suffering or death, the wicked would be less restrained by fear, the righteous less benefitted by discipline and chastisement — the law would lose the natural sanctions by which it is now enforced, and sin would be exempt from many powerful checks to which it is now subjected. Hence, as it would materially impair the efficacy of his moral government, and interfere with the first great law of our rational nature — we cannot suppose that it was God’s design in the Gospel, far less that it is absolutely essential to our salvation, that the natural fear of death should be totally destroyed, or exchanged for stoical apathy and unconcern. And for such fears, therefore, in so far as they arise out of the law of nature, and are consistent with right reason — we are bound to make every allowance, especially in the case of the timid disciple. In point of fact, the apostle does not make light of death, either as in itself an inconsiderable matter, or as of trivial importance — when considered in connection with its consequences. In itself, he knew it to be an evil and a bitter thing to die, and hence he speaks of it as an enemy, "the last enemy which shall be destroyed is death!" And, in its consequences, he knew that it would, on the one hand, separate him at once from this world, the scene of his beloved employment in his Master’s service, and of his sweet fellowship with his Master’s followers. And, on the other hand, death would introduce him into a world of spirits, known to him as to us, only by the hearing of faith, and to which he was yet a stranger. An event so painful to flesh and blood, and so trying even to the faith and hope of a believer, could not be regarded by the apostle with indifference or unconcern. Nay, had it been so considered by him, that very circumstance would materially impair the force of his statement. For it had been little to say, that having no fear of death, no shrinking from death, he was willing to depart; but the force of his expression depends on this, that while, like other men, he had a natural fear of death, his faith was such as to surmount and overcome that fear, and to make him rejoice in the hope of glory.

Paul felt, as we feel, that, in itself, death is a fearful, and a dark and a dreary passage. He does not speak of it as an event to be chosen or desired for its own sake — but he says, that, when viewed as the gate into Heaven, death stands connected with a prospect which reconciled him to its terrors. And by how much the fears of any believers respecting death are the more sensitive and overwhelming — just so much the more should we admire the power of that religion, which has enabled many a timid disciple to rise above his fears, and to take his flight to Heaven on the wings of Christian hope.

There are many reasons why we, too, should be willing to depart. The chief reason that is assigned by the apostle is, as we have seen:
the necessarily imperfect state of believers, so long as they remain in the body;
the necessity of walking by faith, and not by sight;
the absence, in one sense, of their glorified Lord;
as also, the presence and remaining power of indwelling sin.

If, at death, we shall be freed from all these defects and encumbrances, and if we are now really born again, so as to have a taste and relish for spiritual perfection — to what can it be attributed that we are so unwilling to reach our home in Heaven, except to the weakness of our faith and hope? Many of us may find a ground for deep humiliation before God in this matter, seeing that he who searches the heart, may even now observe much reluctance on our part to leave the body, and little or no desire to enjoy His immediate presence. And, as this can only be accounted for by referring it to the weakness of our faith, or to the lack of a well-grounded hope — so it will be found to be generally associated with an undue attachment to the world, and an aversion to part with all for God.

We shall not call in question the reality of any man’s religion, merely on account of such feelings — for many of God’s people are often in heaviness through manifold temptations, and they cannot always speak in the apostle’s language. But surely they will not rest contented in a state which renders the thought of death a bondage, and the prospect of entering into Heaven painful or depressing to them! They will seek to be resolved as to their saving interest in the gospel, and will give all diligence to make their eternal prospects sure. It will be their sincere desire and endeavor to attain to the confidence, and to cherish the spirit of the apostle.

It is both their duty and their interest to do so. Their duty, as the professed followers of him "who is the resurrection and the life, who has abolished death, and brought life and immortality clearly to light." And their privilege, since nothing can be more blessed than that habit of believing expectation, which will reconcile them to whatever God may be pleased to appoint. And nothing, on the other hand, is more wretched, or less befitting their profession, than that restless inquietude, that apprehensive alarm, that surprise and consternation, which the sudden prospect of death, or even its slow but sure advance towards them — awakens in the mind, when it is still uncertain as to its future prospects; or yet more wedded to the world, than wishful of Heaven.

We should be always ready — ready not only as having a saving interest in Christ — but as having a realizing faith in him, a watchful expectation of his coming, and a joyful welcome to him when he comes — we must not only have lamps — but oil in our lamps. And, if we would not be taken by surprise, we must neither slumber nor sleep. For our direction in this matter, let us remember that the apostle’s willingness to depart arose out of, and stood connected with, an assurance of his personal and saving interest in the scheme of grace, "we are confident, and willing to be absent from the body, and present with the Lord." This confidence at once explains and justifies his willingness to die. With such a confidence, it is not astonishing that he should express a desire to depart. But, while destitute of this, it is not to be expected that any human being will calmly contemplate death without apprehension, or encounter it without reluctance.

There can be no doubt, indeed, that every sincere believer who reposes his trust in the Savior, is, in all essential respects, prepared for death and its outcomes; and that his faith, however weak and wavering, will infallibly secure for him the reward of a blessed immortality. Wherever true faith exists and obtains the pardon of sin, and a sure title to an inheritance in Heaven — in the same proportion in which faith is active and influential, it prepares him also, in point of character — for the services and enjoyments of that sacred asylum of piety and peace. In so far, therefore, as his mere safety is concerned, every sincere Christian is prepared for death, even though, for a season, he should be in heaviness through manifold temptations; or unable, by reason of weakness, to speak in the strong language of assurance or triumph. Christ "will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax." But while, in respect of mere safety, all true believers are prepared for death and its outcomes — there is, in respect of sensible comfort, great diversity among them, according to their different degrees of faith and hope. Many are so weak in faith, that the prospect of encountering death, and of entering on the world of spirits, is fraught to them with unnumbered terrors! Their lives are spent in fearful apprehension of that event, which, nevertheless, they know to be inevitable — health and prosperity are embittered by the thought of it, and, when disease comes, it comes attended with numerous desponding anticipations, and foreboding fears.

There is reason to believe that not a few of the serious and sincere disciples of the Savior are subject to these fears; and, in their case, even the watchfulness which our Lord enjoins, is the means rather of increasing than of mitigating their distress — since, where a watchful expectation of death is exercised, without the enjoyment of a settled peace of mind and a lively hope — it tends much more to exasperate than to appease the anxieties which the thought of death is fitted to excite. The only sure antidote to these distressing feelings, is the confidence which the apostle expresses — a confidence of his personal interest in the salvation of the cross, in virtue of which he could look forward to a building of God, "a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens," as his own, by sure title and promise, after the death of the body.

Nothing can be more certain, than that here, as elsewhere, in his precious writings, the apostle expresses a sure hope of a blessed immortality, and that he does so, with no exclusive reference to his own case — but in the name of believers in general, to whom the same promises were addressed as to himself, and in whom, although it might be in different degrees, the same faith had been wrought. Nor can it be doubted that this confidence is a very high and precious privilege — that, if attainable, it is in the very highest degree to be desired; and that being, in some sense, the natural fruit of an active faith, and the nourishment of a lively hope. The Christian is not only living far below his privileges, as a child of God, when he rests satisfied without this attainment — but is thereby showing that his faith is neither so active, nor his spiritual desires so strong, nor his love to God and to Heaven so lively, as they ought to be. That no man can be a genuine believer, or that no man will be saved, unless he can adopt the language which is here used — we will not affirm. But while the desponding and fearful ought not to be driven to despair, surely it is well that they should be admonished of their remaining imperfections, and urged to aim at a privilege, which they will not deny to be a valuable one, and which the Gospel declares to have been enjoyed by others before them — and that they should be affectionately reminded that, besides being a blessed privilege, it is also a commanded duty, to "give all diligence to make their calling and election sure." The apostle states, in the preceding verses, the grounds or reasons of this confidence: "Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come. Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord." As it is by the work of the Holy Spirit that believers are wrought, fashioned, polished, and prepared for the upper sanctuary — so the fruits of the Spirit, being the evidence of a saving change, are at once the reasons of present assurance, and the pledges of future glory.

Hence, it is said, "the Spirit himself bears witness with our spirits, that we are the children of God; and, if children, then heirs, heirs of God, and joint heirs with Jesus Christ." And how does he thus bear witness? Not by revealing any truth which is not contained in Scripture — but by enabling them to embrace the truth of Scripture, and to appropriate its promises to themselves. Not by a secret voice, assuring them that their names are in the book of life — but by first producing in their souls, and then enabling them to perceive — those marks of saving grace, which will terminate in glory. But such a change may have been really wrought, and yet there may be seasons in the lives of sincere Christians, in which they cannot so clearly discern the evidence, as to derive comfort from the persuasion, that they have been converted; seasons of spiritual darkness, when their views are clouded, it may be, by unbelief; or seasons of backsliding, when they have reason to mourn over resolutions which have been forgotten, vows that have been broken, and obligations, both of duty, and of gratitude, which have been shamefully violated; or seasons of spiritual insensibility, when they have so far fallen from the state of spiritual health, as to be almost tempted to question whether they have ever been quickened into spiritual life. At such seasons, it is not astonishing that they cannot, with a good conscience, use the language of the apostle. But as dark as their present state is, it does not follow that they are shut out from hope. It is true that they cannot discern, in their own troubled spirits, those marks of grace which are the evidences of conversion, and the pledges of glory; and we cannot, therefore, in these circumstances, direct them to look inward on the frame of their own spirits, with any hope of their thereby obtaining relief. No, but we can, and we do, bid every downcast believer to look out of himself — to Christ’s cross, and to God’s mercy-seat! And we do so with the greater confidence, just because he has been brought to feel that he has nothing else to depend on.

Supposing all his fears as to his present state to be well-grounded, nevertheless, to him, be he converted or unconverted, the chief of sinners or the weakest of saints — to him, whatever is his character, and however dark his prospects — we point to Christ’s cross, as a refuge to which the most miserable is welcome to flee, and from which, never was the poorest penitent sent empty away. Let him not continue to brood over the darkness of his own soul — but, knowing it to be dark, let him turn his eye upward to the Sun of Righteousness, which has arisen upon him with healing in its beams, and which, notwithstanding all the gloom which hangs around his spirit, is still shining clear and serene in Heaven.

Let him look to Christ’s cross and to God’s mercy-seat — and thence may he draw, in the exercise of a simple and confiding faith, that assurance of God’s love, and that peace of conscience, which will enable him to surmount the terrors of death, and to look forward with humble hope to a time when, no longer seeing through a glass darkly, he shall see face to face, and know even as also he is known. This was the first ground of the apostle’s confidence — he heard Christ’s invitations and promises, he embraced them, and thereafter his experience of God’s faithfulness confirmed his faith and animated his hope. At one time he had as little to comfort him in the prospect of death as any among ourselves — but he attained to confidence by the exercise of a simple faith. Let us aim at the same attainment by the same means. That this confidence is a highly desirable state of mind at all seasons — but especially in the near prospect of death — will not surely be denied by any one, who, awake to the solemn nature of that change, and the eternal consequences which flow from it, will only ask himself the question — whether it were best to die in doubt or in hope — to be distracted at that solemn hour by the thought that, after all, he may be in the wrong path — or to be firmly assured, on grounds of rational conviction, that he is safe? Who would not wish, at that hour, to know, and to know assuredly, that he is in a state of peace with God — that he is an heir of Heaven, and not of Hell?

Or, could anything be more terrific than to encounter death at the hazard of appearing before the judgment-seat unprepared? We must make up our minds, and arrive at some certainty on this matter. If we wish that our last moments may be undisturbed by misgivings, and that we may descend into the valley of death with serenity and composure — Oh! let us not leave the task of winding up our accounts to that hour which will bring with it enough for us to think upon and to do, without being burdened with a long arrear from the past. Let us now, and each day as we pass on to our final reckoning, examine and try the foundation of our hope. Let us, once for all, satisfy ourselves as to the path which we should choose, and let it be that path in which we shall be content to meet death when it comes.

Having chosen the right way, let us go right on, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left. Setting our faces steadfastly to go up to the Jerusalem above — let us seek to enjoy, more and more, the love of God, and communion with him; to become more submissive to his will, and more conformed to his divine image. For then, and then only, may we be both prepared for Heaven, and assured of our inheritance there. And we shall be happy, either in his service here, or in his presence hereafter — if, only walking in the path of sanctification, we have "the pledge of his Spirit" in our hearts.