The Saint's Rest is not to be expected on Earth.
§ 1. In order to shew the sin and folly of expecting rest here, § 2.
(I.) the reasonableness of present afflictions is considered; § 3. (1.)
that they are the way to rest, § 4. (2.) keep us from mistaking our
rest, § 5. (3.) from losing our way to it, § 6. (4.) quicken our pace
towards it, § 7. (5.) chiefly incommode our flesh, § 8, 9. and (6.)
under them the sweetest foretastes of rest are often enjoyed; § 10.
(II.) How unreasonable to rest in present enjoyments; § 11. (1.) that
'tis idolatry; § 12. (2.) that it contradicts God's end in giving them;
§ 13. (3.) is the way to have them refused, withdrawn, or embittered;
§ 14. (4.) that to be suffered to take up our rest here is the greatest
curse; § 15. (5.) that it is seeking rest where it is not. § 16 (6.)
that the creatures without God, would aggravate our misery. § 17. (7.)
and all this is confirmed by experience. § 18. The Author laments that
this is nevertheless a most common sin. § 19-23 (III.) How unreasonable
our unwillingness to die, and possess the saint's rest, is largely
considered. § 24. The Author apologizes for saying so much on this last
head.
§ 1. We are not yet come to our resting place. Doth it remain? How great
then is our sin and folly to seek and expect it here? Where shall we
find the Christian that deserves not this reproof? We would all have
continual prosperity, because it is easy and pleasing to the flesh; but
we consider not the unreasonableness of such desires. And when we enjoy
convenient houses, goods, lands, and revenues? or the necessary means
God hath appointed for our spiritual good; we seek rest in these
enjoyments. Whether we are in an afflicted, or prosperous state, it is
apparent, we exceedingly make the creature our rest. Do we not desire
creature enjoyments more violently, when we want them, than we desire
God himself? Do we not delight more in the possession of them, than in
the enjoyment of God? And if we lose them, doth it not trouble us more
than our loss of God? Is it not enough, that they are refreshing helps
in our way to heaven, but they must also be made our heaven itself?
Christian reader, I would as willingly make thee sensible of this sin,
as of any sin in the world, if I could tell how to do it; for the Lord's
greatest quarrel with us is in this point. In order to this, I most
earnestly beseech thee to consider,—the reasonableness of present
afflictions,—and the unreasonableness of resting in present
enjoyments;—as also of our unwillingness to die, that we may possess
eternal rest.
§ 2. (I.) To shew the reasonableness of present afflictions,
consider,—they are the way to rest;—they keep us from mistaking our
rest,—and from losing our way to it;—they quicken our pace towards
it;—they chiefly incommode our flesh;—and under them God's people have
often the sweetest foretastes of their rest.
§ 3. (1.) Consider, that labor and trouble are the common way to rest,
both in the course of nature and grace. Can there possibly be rest
without weariness? Do you not travel and toil first, and rest after? The
day for labor is first, and then follows the night for rest. Why should
we desire the course of grace to be perverted, any more than the course
of nature? It is an established decree, _that we must through much
tribulation enter into the kingdom of God_.[298] And that _if we suffer,
we shall also reign with Christ_.[299] And what are we that God's
statutes should be reversed for our pleasure?
[Footnote 298] Acts xiv, 22.
[Footnote 299] 2 Timothy ii, 12.
§ 4. (2.) Afflictions are exceeding useful to us, to keep us from
mistaking our rest. A Christian's motion towards heaven is voluntary,
and not constrained. Those means therefore are most profitable, which
help his understanding and will. The most dangerous mistake of our souls
is, to take the creature for God, and earth for heaven. What warm,
affectionate, eager thoughts have we of the world, till afflictions cool
and moderate them? Afflictions speak convincingly, and will be heard
when preachers cannot. Many a poor Christian is sometimes bending his
thoughts to wealth, or flesh pleasing, or applause; and so loses his
relish of Christ, and the joy above; till God break in upon his riches,
or children, or conscience, or health, and break down his mountain which
he thought so strong: And then, when he lieth in Manasseh's fetters; or
is fastened to his bed with pining sickness, the world is nothing, and
heaven is something. If our dear Lord did not put these thorns under our
head, we should sleep out our lives, and lose our glory.
§ 5. (3.) Afflictions, are also God's most effectual means to keep us
from losing our way to our rest. Without this hedge of thorns, on the
right hand, and left, we should hardly keep the way to heaven. If there
be but one gap open, how ready are we to find it, and turn out at it?
When we grow wanton, or worldly, or proud, how doth sickness, or other
affliction, reduce us? Every Christian, as well as Luther, may call
affliction one of his best schoolmasters; and with David may say,
_Before I was afflicted, I went astray; but now have I kept thy
word_.[300] Many thousand recovered sinners may cry, "O healthful
sickness! O comfortable sorrows! O gainful losses! O enriching poverty!
O blessed day that ever I was afflicted!" Not only the _green pastures_,
and _still waters_, but _the rod and staff, they comfort us_. Though the
word and Spirit do the main work, yet suffering so unbolts the door of
the heart, that the word hath easier entrance.
[Footnote 300] Psalm cxix, 67.
§ 6. (4.) Afflictions likewise serve to quicken our pace in the way to
our rest. It were well if mere love would prevail with us, and that we
were rather drawn to heaven, than driven. But seeing our hearts are so
bad, that mercy will not do it; it is better be put on with the sharpest
scourge, than loiter, like the _foolish virgins_, till _the door is
shut_. O what difference is there, betwixt our prayers in health, and in
sickness; betwixt our repentings in prosperity and adversity! Alas! if
we did not sometime feel the spur, what a slow pace would most of us
hold towards heaven? Since our vile natures require it, why should we be
unwilling that God should do us good by sharp means? Judge, Christian,
whether thou dost not go more watchfully and speedily in the way to
heaven, in thy sufferings, than in thy more pleasing and prosperous
state.
§ 7. (5.) Consider further, it is but the flesh that is chiefly troubled
and grieved by affliction. In most of our sufferings the soul is free,
unless we ourselves wilfully afflict it. "Why then, O my soul, dost thou
side with this flesh, and complain, as it complaineth? It should be thy
work to _keep it under, and bring it into subjection_, and if God do it
for thee, shouldst thou be discontented? Hath not the pleasing of it
been the cause of almost all thy spiritual sorrows? Why then may not the
displeasing of it further thy joys? Must not _Paul and Silas sing_,
because _their feet are in the stocks_? Their spirits were not
imprisoned. Ah, unworthy soul! is this thy thanks to God for preferring
thee so far before thy body? When it is rotting in the grave, thou shalt
be a companion of the perfected spirits of the just. In the mean time,
hast thou not consolation which the flesh knows not of? Murmur not then
at God's dealings with thy body; if it were not for want of love to
thee, he would not have dealt so by all his saints. Never expect thy
flesh should truly expound the meaning of the rod. It will call love,
hatred; and say, God is destroying, when he is saving. It is the
suffering party, and therefore not fit to be the judge." Could we once
believe God, and judge of his dealings by his word, and by their
usefulness to our souls, and reference to our rest, and could we stop
our ears against all the clamors of the flesh, then we should have a
truer judgment of our afflictions.
§ 8. (6.) Once more consider, God seldom gives his people so sweet a
foretaste of their future rest, as in their deep afflictions. He keeps
his most precious cordials for the time of our greatest faintings and
dangers. He gives them, when he knows they are needed, and will be
valued: and when he is sure to be thanked for them, and his people
rejoiced by them. Especially when our sufferings are more directly for
his cause, then he seldom fails to sweeten the bitter cup. The martyrs
have possessed the highest joys. When did Christ preach such comforts to
his disciples, as when _their hearts were sorrowful_ at his departure?
When did he appear among them, and say, _Peace be unto you_, but when
they were shut up for fear of the Jews? When did Stephen _see heaven
opened_, but when he was giving up his life for the testimony of Jesus?
Is not that our best state, wherein we have most of God? Why else do we
desire to come to heaven? If we look for a heaven of fleshly delights,
we shall find ourselves mistaken. Conclude then, that affliction is not
so bad a state for a saint in his way to rest. Are we wiser than God?
Doth he not know what is good for us as well as we? Or is he not as
careful of our good, as we are of our own? Woe to us, if he were not
much more so! and if he did not love us better, than we love either him,
or ourselves!
§ 9. Say not, "I could bear any other affliction but this." If God had
afflicted thee where thou canst bear it, thy idol would neither have
been discovered, nor removed. Neither say, "If God would deliver me out
of it, I could be content to bear it." Is it nothing that he hath
promised it _shall work for thy good_? Is it not enough that thou art
sure to be delivered at death? Nor let it be said, "If my affliction did
not disable me for duty, I could bear it." It doth not disable thee for
that duty which tendeth for thy own personal benefit, but is the
greatest quickening help thou canst expect. As for thy duty to others,
it is not thy duty when God disables thee. Perhaps thou wilt say, "The
godly are my afflictors: if it were ungodly men, I could easily bear
it." Whoever is the instrument, the affliction is from God, and the
deserving cause thyself; and is it not better to look more to God and
thyself? Didst thou not know that the best men are still sinful in part?
Do not plead, "If I had but that consolation, which you say God
reserveth for suffering times, I should suffer more contentedly; but I
do not perceive any such thing." The more you suffer for righteousness'
sake, the more of this blessing you may expect; and the more you suffer
for your own evil doing, the longer it will be before that sweetness
comes. Are not the comforts you desire, neglected or resisted? Have your
afflictions wrought kindly with you, and fitted you for comfort? It is
not mere suffering that prepares you for comfort, but the success and
fruit of sufferings upon your hearts.
§ 10. (II.) To shew the unreasonableness of resting in present
enjoyments, consider,—it is idolizing them;—it contradicts God's end in
giving them;—it is the way to have them refused, withdrawn, or
embittered;—to be suffered to take up our rest here, is the greatest
curse;—it is seeking rest where it is not to be found;—the creatures,
without God, would aggravate our misery;—and to confirm all this, we may
consult our own and others' experience.
§ 11. (1.) It is gross idolatry to make any creature or means our rest.
To be the rest of the soul, is God's own prerogative. As it is apparent
idolatry to place our rest in riches or honors; so it is but a more
refined idolatry to take up our rest in excellent means of grace. How
ill must our dear Lord take it, when we give him cause to complain as he
did of our fellow idolaters, _My people have been lost sheep, they have
forgotten their resting place_?[301] "My people can find rest in any
thing, rather than in me. They can delight in one another, but not in
me. They can rejoice in my creatures and ordinances, but not in me. Yea,
in their very labors and duties they seek for rest, but not in me. They
had rather be any where, than be with me. Are these their gods? Have
these redeemed them? Will these be better to them, than I have been, or
than I would be?" If yourselves have a wife, a husband, a son, that had
rather be any where than in your company, and be never so merry as when
furthest from you, would you not take it ill? So must our God needs do.
[Footnote 301] Jeremiah l, 6.
§ 12. (2.) You contradict the end of God in giving these enjoyments. He
gave them to help thee to him, and dost thou take up with them in his
stead? He gave them to be refreshments in thy journey, and wouldst thou
dwell in thy inn, and go no further? It may be said of all our comforts
and ordinances, as it is said of the Israelites, _The ark of the
covenant of the Lord went before them, to search out a resting place for
them_.[302] So do all God's mercies here. They are not that rest; as
John professed _he was not the Christ_; but they are _voices crying in
this wilderness_, to bid us _prepare, for the kingdom of God_, our true
rest _is at hand_. Therefore, to rest here, were to turn all mercies
contrary to their own ends, and to our own advantages, and to destroy
ourselves with that which should help us.
[Footnote 302] Numbers x, 33.
§ 13. (3.) It is the way to cause God, either to deny the mercies we
ask, or take from us those we enjoy, or at least embitter them to us.
God is no where so jealous as here. If you had a servant, whom your wife
loved better than yourself, would you not take it ill of such a wife,
and rid your house of such a servant? So, if the Lord see you begin to
settle in the world, and say, "Here I will rest?" no wonder if he soon
in his jealousy unsettle you. If he love you, no wonder if he take that
from you with which he sees you are destroying yourselves. It hath long
been my observation of many, that when they have attempted great works,
and have just finished them; or have aimed at great things in the world,
and have just obtained them; or have lived in much trouble, and have
just overcome it; and begin to look on their condition with content, and
rest in it; they are then usually near to death or ruin. When a man is
once at this language, _Soul, take thy ease_; the next news usually is,
_Thou fool, this night_, or this month, or this year, _thy soul shall he
required, and then whose shall these things be_? What house is there
where this fool dwelleth not? Let you and I consider, whether it be not
our own case? Many a servant of God hath been destroyed from the earth,
by being over-valued and over-loved. I am persuaded, our discontents and
murmurings are not so provoking to God, nor so destructive to the
sinner, as our too sweet enjoying, and resting in, a pleasing state. If
God hath crossed you in wife, children, goods, friends, either by taking
them away, or the comfort of them; try whether this be not the cause:
For wheresoever your desires stop, and you say, "Now I am well;" that
condition you make your God, and engage the jealousy of God against it.
Whether you be friends to God or enemies, you can never expect that God
should suffer you quietly to enjoy your idols.
§ 14. (4.) Should God suffer you to take up your rest here, it is one of
the greatest curses that could befal you. It were better never to have a
day of ease in the world; for then weariness might make you seek after
the true rest. But if you are suffered to sit down and rest here, a
restless wretch you will be through all eternity. To _have their portion
in this life_, is the lot of the most miserable, perishing sinners. Doth
it become Christians then to expect so much here? Our rest is our
heaven; and where we take our rest, there we make our heaven. And
wouldst thou have but such a heaven as this?
§ 15. (5.) It is seeking rest where it is not to be found. Your labor
will be lost, and, if you proceed, your soul's eternal rest too. Our
rest is only in the full obtaining of our ultimate end. But that is not
to be expected in this life; neither is rest therefore to be expected
here. Is God to be enjoyed in the best church here, as he is in heaven?
How little of God the saints enjoy under the best means, let their own
complainings testify. Poor comforters are the best ordinances, without
God. Should a traveller take up his rest in the way? No, because his
home is his journey's end. When you have all that creatures and means
can afford, have you that which you believed, prayed, suffered for? I
think you dare not say so. We are like little children strayed from
home, and God is now fetching us home, and we are ready to turn into any
house, stay and play with every thing in our way, and sit down on every
green bank, and much ado there is to get us home. We are also in the
midst of our labors and dangers; and is there any resting here? What
painful work doth lie upon our hands? Look to our brethren, to our
souls, and to God; and what a deal of work, in respect to each of these,
doth lie before us? And can we rest in the midst of all our labors?
Indeed we may rest on earth, as _the ark_ is said to have _rested in the
midst of Jordan_; a short and small rest. Or as Abraham desired the
_Angels to turn in, and rest themselves_ in his tent, where they would
have been loth to have taken up their dwelling. Should Israel have fixed
their rest in the wilderness, among serpents, and enemies, and
weariness, and famine? Should Noah have made the ark his home, and have
been loth to come forth when _the waters were assuaged_? Should the
mariner choose his dwelling on the sea, and settle his rest in the midst
of rocks, and sands, and raging tempests? Should a soldier rest in the
thickest of his enemies? And are not Christians such travellers, such
mariners, such soldiers? Have you not fears within, and troubles
without? Are we not in continual dangers? We cannot eat, drink, sleep,
labor, pray, hear, converse, but in the midst of snares; and shall we
sit down and rest here? O Christian, follow thy work, look to thy
dangers, and hold on to the end, win the field, and come off the ground,
before thou think of a settled rest. Whenever thou talkest of rest on
earth, it is like _Peter on the mount_, thou _knowest not what thou
sayest_. If, instead of telling the converted thief, _this day shalt
thou be with me in paradise_, Christ had said, he should rest there on
the cross; would he not have taken it for a derision? Methinks it should
be ill resting in the midst of sickness and pains, persecutions and
distresses. But if nothing else will convince us, yet sure the
remainders of sin, which do so easily beset us, should quickly satisfy a
believer, that here is not his rest. I say therefore to every one that
thinketh of rest on earth, _Arise ye, and depart, for this is not your
rest, because it is polluted_.[303] These things cannot in their nature
be a true Christian's rest. They are too poor, to make us rich; too low,
to raise us to happiness; too empty, to fill our souls; and of too short
continuance to be our eternal content. If prosperity, or whatsoever we
here desire, be too base to make gods of, they are too base to be our
rest. The soul's rest must be sufficient to afford it perpetual
satisfaction. But the content which creatures afford, waxes old, and,
abates after a short enjoyment. If God should rain down _Angel's food_,
we should soon _loathe the manna_. If novelty support not, our delights
on earth grow dull. All creatures are to us, as the flowers to the bee;
there is but little honey on any one, and therefore there must be a
superficial taste, and so to the next. The more the creature is known,
the less it satisfieth. Those only are taken with it, who see no further
than its outward beauty, without discerning its inward vanity. When we
thoroughly know the condition of other men, and have discovered the evil
as well as the good, and the defects as well as the perfections, we then
cease our admiration.
[Footnote 303] Micah ii, 10
§ 16. (6.) To have creatures and means without God, is an aggravation of
our misery. If God should say, "Take my creatures, my word, my servants,
my ordinances, but not myself;" would you take this for happiness? If
you had the word of God, and not the word, which is God; or the bread of
the Lord, and not the Lord, which _is the true bread_; or could cry with
the Jews, _The temple of the Lord_, and had not the Lord of the temple;
this were a poor happiness. Was Capernaum the more happy or the more
miserable, for _seeing the mighty works which they had seen, and hearing
the words of Christ which they did hear_? Surely that, which aggravates
our sin and misery, cannot be our rest.
§ 17. (7.) To confirm all this, let us consult our own and others's
experience. Millions have made trial, but did any ever find a sufficient
rest for his soul on earth? Delights I deny not but they have found, but
rest and satisfaction they never found. And shall we think to find that
which never man could find before us? Ahab's kingdom is nothing to him,
without _Naboth's vineyard_: and did that satisfy him when he obtained
it? Were you like Noah's dove, to look through the earth for a resting
place, you would return confessing, that you could find none. Go ask
honor, is there rest here? You may as well rest on the top of
tempestuous mountains, or in Ætna's flames. Ask riches, is there rest
here? Even such as is in a bed of thorns. If you inquire for rest of
worldly pleasure; it is such as the fish hath in swallowing the bait,
when the pleasure is sweetest, death is nearest. Go to learning, and
even to Divine ordinances, and inquire whether there your souls may
rest? You might indeed receive from these an olive-branch of hope, as
they are means to your rest, and have relation to eternity; but in
regard of any satisfaction in themselves, you would remain as restless
as ever. How well might all these answer us, as Jacob did Rachel, _Am I
in God's stead_, that you come to me for soul-rest? Not all the states
of men in the world; neither court nor country, towns nor cities, shops
nor fields, treasuries, libraries, solitude, society, studies, nor
pulpits, can afford any such thing as this rest. If you could inquire of
the dead of all generations, or of the living through all dominions,
they would all tell you, "Here is no rest." Or if other men's
experiences move you not, take a view of your own. Can you remember the
state that did fully satisfy you, or if you could, will it prove
lasting? I believe we may all say of our earthly rest, as Paul of our
hope, _If it were in this life only, we are of all men most miserable_.
§ 18. If then either Scripture, or reason, or the experience of
ourselves, and all the world, will satisfy us, we may see there is no
resting here. And yet how guilty are the generality of us of this sin?
How many halts and stops do we make, before we will make the Lord our
rest? How must God even drive us, and fire us out of every condition,
lest we should sit down and rest there? If he give us prosperity,
riches, or honor, we do in our hearts dance before them, as the
Israelites before their calf, and say, _These are thy gods_, and
conclude, _it is good to be here_. If he embitter all these to us, how
restless are we till our condition be sweetened, that we may sit down
again, and rest where we were? If he proceed in the cure, and take the
creature quite away, then how do we labor, and cry, and pray, that God
would restore it, that we may make it our rest again? And while we are
deprived of our former idol, yet rather than come to God, we delight
ourselves in the hope of recovering it, and make that very hope our
rest; or search about from creature to creature, to find out something
to supply the room; yea, if we can find no supply, yet we will rather
settle in this misery, and make a rest of a wretched being, than leave
all and come to God. O the cursed averseness of our souls from God! If
any place in hell were tolerable, the soul would rather take up its rest
there than come to God. Yea, when he is bringing us over to him, and
hath convinced us of the worth of his ways and service, the last deceit
of all is here, we will rather settle upon those ways that lead to him,
and those ordinances that speak of him, and those gifts which flow from
him, than we will come entirely over to himself. Christian, marvel not
that I speak so much of resting in these; beware lest it prove thy own
case. I suppose thou art so far convinced of the vanity of riches,
honor, and pleasure, that thou canst more easily disclaim these, and it
is well if it be so; but the means of grace thou lookest on with less
suspicion, and thinkest thou canst not delight in them too much,
especially seeing most of the world despise them, or delight in them too
little. I know they must be loved and valued, and he that delighteth in
any worldly thing more than in them, is not a Christian. But when we are
content with ordinances without God, and had rather be at a sermon than
in heaven, and a member of the church here, than of the perfect church
above, this is a sad mistake. So far let thy soul take comfort in
ordinances, as God doth accompany them; remembering, this is not heaven,
but the first fruits. _While we are present in the body, we are absent
from the Lord_; and while we are absent from him we are absent from our
rest. If God were as willing to be absent from us, as we from him, and
as loth to be our rest, as we to rest in him, we should be left to an
eternal restless separation. In a word, as you are sensible of the
sinfulness of your earthly discontents, so be you also of your irregular
satisfactions, and pray God to pardon them much more. And above all the
plagues on this side hell, see that you watch and pray against settling
any where short of heaven, or reposing your souls on any thing below God.
§ 19. (III.) The next thing to be considered is, our unreasonable
unwillingness to die that we may possess the saint's rest. We linger,
like Lot in Sodom, till _the Lord, being merciful unto us_, doth pluck
us away against our wills. I confess that death of itself is not
desirable; but the soul's rest with God is, to which death is the common
passage. Because we are apt to make light of this sin, let me set before
you its nature and remedy in a variety of considerations. As for
instance,—It has in it much infidelity. If we did but verily believe,
that the promise of this glory is the word of God, and that God doth
truly mean as he speaks, and is fully resolved to make it good; if we
did verily believe, that there is indeed such blessedness prepared for
believers; surely we should be as impatient of living, as we are now
fearful of dying, and should think every day a year till our last day
should come. Is it possible that we can truly believe, that death will
remove us from misery to such glory, and yet be loth to die? If the
doubts of our own interest in that glory make us fear, yet a true belief
of the certainty and excellency of this rest would make us restless till
our title to it be cleared. Though there is much faith and Christianity
in our mouths, yet there is much infidelity and paganism in our hearts,
which is the chief cause that we are so loth to die. It is also much
owing to the coldness of our love. If we love our friend, we love his
company; his presence is comfortable, his absence is painful, when he
comes to us we entertain him with gladness; when he dies, we mourn, and
usually over mourn. To be separated from a faithful friend, is like the
rending a member from our body. And would not our desires after God be
such, if we really loved him? Nay, should it not be much more than such,
as he is above all friends most lovely? May the Lord teach us to look
closely to our hearts, and take heed of self-deceit in this point!
Whatever we pretend, if we love either father, mother, husband, wife,
child, friend, wealth, or life itself more than Christ, we are yet _none
of his_ sincere _disciples_. When it comes to the trial, the question
will not be, who hath preached most, or heard most, or talked most; but,
who hath loved most? Christ will not take sermons, prayers, fastings,
no, nor the _giving our goods_, nor the _burning our bodies_, instead of
love. And do we love him, and yet care not how long we are from him? Was
it such a joy to Jacob to see the face of Joseph in Egypt? and shall we
be contented without the sight of Christ in glory, and yet say we love
him? I dare not conclude, that we have no love at all, when we are so
loth to die; but I dare say, were our love more, we should die more
willingly. If this holy flame were thoroughly kindled in our breasts, we
should cry out with David, _As the hart panteth after the water brooks,
so panteth my soul after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, for the
living God; when shall I come and appear before God?_—By our
unwillingness to die, it appears we are little weary of sin. Did we take
sin for the greatest evil, we should not be willing to have its company
so long. "O foolish, sinful heart! Hast thou been so long _a cage of all
unclean_ lusts, a fountain incessantly streaming forth the bitter waters
of transgression, and art thou not yet weary? Wretched soul! Hast thou
been so long wounded in all thy faculties, so grievously languishing in
all thy performances, so fruitful a soil of all iniquities, and art thou
not yet more weary? Wouldst thou still lie under thy imperfections? Hath
thy sin proved so profitable a commodity, so necessary a companion, such
a delightful employment, that thou dost so much dread the parting day?
May not God justly grant thee thy wishes and seal thee a lease of thy
desired distance from him, and _nail thy ears to these doors_ of misery,
and exclude thee eternally from his glory?"—It shews that we are
insensible of the vanity of the creature, when we are so loth to hear or
think of a removal. "Ah foolish, wretched soul! doth every prisoner
groan for freedom? and every slave desire his jubilee? and every sick
man long for health? and every hungry man for food? and dost thou alone
abhor deliverance? Doth the sailor wish to see the land? Doth the
husbandman desire the harvest, and the laborer to receive his pay? Doth
the traveller long to be at home, and the racer to win the prize, and
the soldier to win the field? and art thou loth to see thy labors
finished, and to receive the end of thy faith and sufferings? Have thy
griefs been only dreams? If they were, yet methinks thou shouldst not be
afraid of waking. Or is it not rather the world's delights that are all
mere dreams and shadows? Or is the world become of late more kind? We
may, at our peril, reconcile ourselves to the world, but it will never
reconcile itself to us. O unworthy soul! who hadst rather dwell in this
land of darkness, and wander in this barren wilderness, than be at rest
with Jesus Christ! who hadst rather stay among the wolves, and daily
suffer the scorpion's stings, than praise the Lord with the host of
heaven!"
§ 20. This unwillingness to die, doth actually impeach us of high
treason against the Lord. Is it not choosing of earth before him, and
taking present things for our happiness, and consequently making them
our very God? If we did indeed make God our end, our rest, our portion,
our treasure, how is it possible but we should desire to enjoy him?—It
moreover discovers some dissimulation. Would you have any man believe
you, when you call the Lord your only hope, and speak of Christ as all
in all, and of the joy that is in his presence, and yet would endure the
hardest life, rather than die, and enter into his presence? What
self-contradiction is this, to talk so hardly of the world, and the
flesh, to groan and complain of sin and suffering; and yet fear no day
more than that, which we expect should bring our final freedom? What
hypocrisy is this, to profess to strive and fight for heaven, which we
are loth to come to; and spend one hour after another in prayer, for
that which we would not have?——Hereby we wrong the Lord and his
promises, and disgrace his ways in the eyes of the world. As if we would
persuade them to question, whether God be true to his word or no?
Whether there be any such glory as the Scripture mentions? When they see
those so loth to leave their hold of present things, who have professed
to live by faith, and have boasted of their hopes in another world, and
spoken disgracefully of all things below, in comparison of things above;
how doth this confirm the world in their unbelief and sensuality?
"Sure," say they, "if these professors did expect so much glory, and
make so light of the world as they seem, they would not themselves be so
loth to change." O how are we ever able to repair the wrong which we do
to God and souls by this scandal? And what an honor to God, what a
strengthening to believers, what a conviction to unbelievers, would it
be, if Christians in this did answer their professions, and cheerfully
welcome the news of rest.—It also evidently shews, that we have spent
much time to little purpose. Have we not had all our lifetime to prepare
to die? So many years to make ready for one hour, and are we so unready
and unwilling yet? What have we done? Why have we lived? Had we any
greater matters to mind? Would we have wished for more frequent
warnings? How oft hath death entered the habitations of our neighbors?
How oft hath it knocked at our own doors? How many distempers have vexed
our bodies, that we have been forced to receive _the sentence of death_?
And are we unready and unwilling after all this? O careless,
dead-hearted sinners! unworthy neglecters of God's warnings! faithless
betrayers of our own souls!
§ 21. Consider, not to die, is, never to be happy; to escape death, is,
to miss of blessedness; except God should translate us, as Enoch and
Elijah; which he never did before, or since. _If in this life only we
have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable._ If you would not
die, and go to heaven, what would you have more than an epicure, or a
beast? Why do we pray, and fast, and mourn? Why do we suffer the
contempt of the world? Why are we Christians, and not Pagans and
Infidels, if we do not desire a life to come? Wouldst thou lose thy
faith and labor, Christian, all thy duties and sufferings, all the end
of thy life, and all the blood of Christ, and be contented with the
portion of a worldling or a brute? Rather say, as one did on his
death-bed, when he was asked whether he was willing to die or no, "Let
him be loth to die, who is loth to be with Christ."
Is God willing by death to glorify us, and are we unwilling to die, that
we may be glorified? Methinks, if a prince were willing to make you his
heir, you would scarce be unwilling to accept it; the refusing such a
kindness would discover ingratitude and unworthiness. As God hath
resolved against them, who make excuses when they should come to Christ,
_none of those men, which were bidden, shall taste of my supper_; so it
is just with him to resolve against us, who frame excuses when we should
come to glory. The Lord Jesus was willing to come from heaven to earth
for us, and shall we be unwilling to remove from earth to heaven for
ourselves and him? He might have said, "What is it to me, if these
sinners suffer? If they value their flesh above their spirits, and their
lust above my Father's love, if they will sell their souls for nought,
who is it fit should be the loser? Should I, whom they have wronged?
Must they wilfully transgress my law, and I undergo their deserved pain?
Must I come down from heaven to earth, and clothe myself with human
flesh, be spit upon and scorned by man, and fast, and weep, and sweat,
and suffer, and bleed, and die a cursed death; and all this for wretched
worms, who would rather hazard their souls, than forbear one forbidden
morsel? Do they cast away themselves so slightly, and must I redeem them
so dearly?" Thus we see Christ had reason enough to have made him
unwilling; and yet did he voluntarily condescend. But we have no reason
against our coming to him; except we will reason against our hopes, and
plead for the perpetuity of our own calamities. Christ came down to
fetch us up; and would we have him lose his blood and labor, and go
again without us? Hath he bought our rest at so dear a rate? Is our
inheritance _purchased with his blood_? And are we, after all this, loth
to enter? Ah, Sirs! it was Christ, and not we, that had cause to be
loth. May the Lord forgive, and heal this foolish ingratitude!
§ 22. Do we not combine with our most cruel foes in their most malicious
designs, while we are loth to die, and go to heaven? What is the Devil's
daily business? Is it not to keep our souls from God? And shall we be
content with this? Is it not the one half of hell, which we wish to
ourselves, while we desire to be absent from heaven? What sport is this
to Satan, that his desires and thine, Christian, should so concur? that
when he sees he cannot get thee to hell, he can so long keep thee out of
heaven, and make thee the earnest petitioner for it thyself? O gratify
not the Devil so much to thy own injury!—Do not our daily fears of death
make our lives a continual torment? Those lives which might be full of
joy, in the daily contemplations of the life to come, and the sweet
delightful thoughts of bliss; how do we fill them up with causeless
terrors? Thus we consume our own comforts, and prey upon our truest
pleasures. When we might lie down, and rise up, and walk abroad, with
our hearts full of the joys of God, we continually fill them with
perplexing fears. For he that fears dying, must be always fearing;
because he hath always reason to expect it. And how can that man's life
be comfortable, who lives in continual fear of losing his comforts? Are
not these fears of death self-created sufferings? As if God had not
inflicted enough upon us, but we must inflict more upon ourselves. Is
not death bitter enough to the flesh of itself, but we must double and
treble its bitterness? The sufferings laid upon us by God, do all lead
to happy issues; the progress, is from tribulation to _patience_, from
thence to _experience_, and so to _hope_, and at last to _glory_. But
the sufferings we make for ourselves are circular and endless, from sin
to suffering, from suffering to sin, and so to suffering again; and not
only so, but they multiply in their course; every sin is greater than
the former, and so every suffering also: so that, except we think God
hath made us to be our own tormentors, we have small reason to nourish
our fears of death. And are they not useless, unprofitable fears? As all
our care _cannot make one hair white or black_, nor _add one cubit to
our stature_; so neither can our fear prevent our sufferings, nor delay
our death one hour; willing, or unwilling, we must away. Many a man's
fears have hastened his end, but no man's did ever avert it. 'Tis true,
a cautious fear, concerning the danger after death, hath profited many,
and is very useful to the preventing of that danger; but for a member of
Christ, and an heir of heaven, to be afraid of entering his own
inheritance, is a sinful, useless fear. And do not our fears of dying
ensnare our souls, and add strength to many temptations? What made Peter
deny his Lord? What makes apostates in suffering times forsake the
truth? Why doth the green blade of unrooted faith wither before the heat
of persecution? fear of imprisonment and poverty may do much, but fear
of death will do much more. So much fear as we have of death, so much
cowardice we usually have in the cause of God: Beside the multitude of
unbelieving contrivances, and discontents, at the wise disposals of God,
and hard thoughts of most of his providences, which this sin doth make
us guilty of.
§ 23. Let us farther consider, what a competent time most of us have
had. Why should not a man, that would die at all, be as willing at
thirty or forty, if God see fit, as at seventy or eighty? Length of time
doth not conquer corruption; it never withers nor decays, through age.
Except we receive an addition of grace, as well as time, we naturally
grow worse. "O my soul, depart in peace! As thou wouldst not desire an
unlimited state in wealth and honor, so desire it not in point of time.
If thou wast sensible, how little thou deservest an hour of that
patience which thou hast enjoyed, thou wouldst think thou hast had a
large part. Is it not Divine wisdom that sets the bounds? God will honor
himself by various persons, and several ages, and not by one person or
age. Seeing thou hast acted thine own part, and finished thine appointed
course, come down contentedly, that others may succeed, who must have
their turns as well as thyself. Much time hath much duty. Beg therefore
for grace to improve it better; but be content with thy share of time.
Thou hast also had a competency of the comforts of life. God might have
made thy life a burden, till thou hadst been as weary of possessing it,
as thou art now afraid of losing it. He might have suffered thee to have
consumed thy days in ignorance, without the saving knowledge of Christ:
But he hath opened thine eyes in the morning of thy days, and acquainted
thee betimes with the business of thy life. Hath thy heavenly Father
caused thy lot to fall in Europe, not in Asia, Africa, or America; in
England, not in Spain or Italy? Hath he filled up all thy life with
mercies, and dost thou now think thy share too small? What a multitude
of hours of consolation, of delightful Sabbaths, of pleasant studies, of
precious companions, of wonderful deliverances, of excellent
opportunities, of fruitful labors, of joyful tidings, of sweet
experiences, of astonishing providences, hath that life partaken of?
Hath thy life been so sweet, that thou art loth to leave it? Is this thy
thanks to him, who is thus drawing thee to his own sweetness? O foolish
soul! would thou wast as covetous after eternity, as thou art for a
fading, perishing life! and after the presence of God in glory, as thou
art for continuance on earth! Then thou wouldst cry, _Why is his chariot
so long in coming? why tarry the wheels of his chariots?_ How long,
Lord! how long!—What if God should let thee live many years, but deny
thee the mercies which thou hast hitherto enjoyed? Might he not give
thee life, as he gave the murmuring Israelites quails? He might give
thee life, till thou art weary of living, and as glad to be rid of it as
Judas or Achitophel; and make thee like many miserable creatures in the
world, who can hardly forbear laying violent hands on themselves. Be not
therefore so importunate for life, which may prove a judgment, instead
of a blessing. How many of the precious servants of God, of all ages and
places, have gone before thee? Thou art not to enter an untrodden path,
nor appointed first to break the ice. Except Enoch and Elijah, which of
the saints have escaped death? And art thou better than they? There are
many millions of saints dead, more than now remain on earth. What a
number of thine own bosom friends, and companions in duty, are now gone,
and why shouldst thou be so loth to follow? Nay, hath not Jesus Christ
himself gone this way? Hath he not sanctified the grave to us, and
perfumed the dust with his own body, and art thou loth to follow him
too? Rather say as Thomas, _Let us also go, that we may die with him_."
§ 24. If what hath been said, will not persuade, Scripture and reason
have little force. And I have said the more on this subject, finding it
so needful to myself and others; finding among so many Christians, who
could do and suffer so much for Christ, so few that can willingly die;
and of many, who have somewhat subdued other corruptions, so few have
got the conquest of this. I persuade not the ungodly from fearing death:
'Tis a wonder rather, that they fear it no more, and spend not their
days in continual horror.