I need only remind you how frequently in the Old Testament the emblem
of fire is employed to express the divine nature. In many places,
though by no means in all, the prominent idea in the emblem is that of
the purity of the divine nature, which flashes and flames as against
all which is evil and sinful. So we read in one grand passage in this
book of Isaiah, 'the Light of Israel shall become a fire'; as if the
lambent beauty of the highest manifestation of God gathered itself
together, intensified itself, was forced back upon itself, and from
merciful, illuminating light turned itself into destructive and
consuming fire. And we read, you may remember, too, in the description
of the symbolical manifestation of the divine nature which accompanied
the giving of the Law on Sinai, that 'the glory of the Lord was like
devouring fire on the top of the mountain,' and yet into that blaze and
brightness the Lawgiver went, and lived and moved in it.
There is, then, in the divine nature a side of antagonism and
opposition to evil, which flames against it, and labours to consume it.
I would speak with all respect for the motives of many men in this day
who dread to entertain the idea of the divine wrath against evil, lest
they should in any manner trench upon the purity and perfectness of the
divine love. I respect and sympathise with the motive altogether; and I
neither respect nor sympathise with the many ferocious pictures of that
which is called the wrath of God against sin, which much so-called
orthodox teaching has indulged in. But if you will only remove from
that word 'anger' the mere human associations which cleave to it, of
passion on the one hand, and of a wish to hurt its object on the other,
then you cannot, I think, deny to the divine nature the possession of
such passionless and unmalignant wrath, without striking a fatal blow
at the perfect purity of God. A God that does not hate evil, that does
not flame out against it, using all the energies of His being to
destroy it, is a God to whose character there cleaves a fatal suspicion
of indifference to good, of moral apathy. If I have not a God to trust
in that hates evil because He loveth righteousness, then 'the pillared
firmament itself were rottenness, and earth's base built on stubble';
nor were there any hope that this damnable thing that is killing and
sucking the life-blood out of our spirits should ever be destroyed and
cast aside. Oh! it is short-sighted wisdom, and it is cruel kindness,
to tamper with the thought of the wrath of God, the 'everlasting
burnings' of that eternally pure nature wherewith it wages war against
all sin.
But then, let us remember that, on the other side, the fire which is
the destructive fire of perfect purity is also the fire that quickens
and blesses. God is love, says John, and love is fire, too. We speak of
'the flame of love,' of 'warm affections,' and the like. The symbol of
fire does not mean destructive energy only. And these two are one.
God's wrath is a form of God's love; God hates because He loves.
And the 'wrath' and the 'love' differ much more in the difference of
the eyes that look, than they do in themselves. Here are two bits of
glass; one of them sifts out and shows all the fiery-red rays, the
other all the yellow. It is the one same pure, white beam that passes
through them both, but one is only capable of receiving the fiery-red
beams of the wrath, and the other is capable of receiving the golden
light of the love. Let us take heed lest, by destroying the wrath, we
maim the love; and let us take heed lest, by exaggerating the wrath, we
empty the love of its sweetness and its preciousness; and let us accept
the teaching that these are one, and that the deepest of all the things
that the world can know about God lies in that double saying, which
does not contradict its second half by its first, but completes its
first by its second--God is Righteousness, God is Love.
Well, then, that being so, the question rises to every mind of ordinary
thoughtfulness: 'Who among us shall dwell with the devouring fire? who
among us shall dwell with everlasting burnings?' A God fighting against
evil; can you and I hope to hold familiar fellowship with Him? A God
fighting against evil; if He rises up to exercise His judging and His
punishing energies, can we meet Him? 'Can thy heart endure and thy
hands be strong, in the day that I shall deal with thee?' is the
question that comes to each of us if we are reasonable people. I do not
dwell upon it; but I ask you to take it, and answer it for yourselves.
To 'dwell with everlasting burnings' means two things. First, it means
to hold familiar intercourse and communion with God. The question which
presents itself to thoughtful minds is--What sort of man must I be if I
am to dwell near God? The lowliest bush may be lit by the divine fire
and not be consumed by it; and the poorest heart may be all aflame with
an indwelling God, if only it yield itself to Him, and long for His
likeness. Electricity only flames into consuming fire when its swift
passage is resisted. The question for us all is--How can I receive this
holy fire into my bosom, and not be burned? Is any communion possible,
and if it is, on what conditions? These are the questions which the
heart of man is really asking, though it knows not the meaning of its
own unrest.
'To dwell with everlasting burnings' means, secondly, to bear the
action of the fire--the judgment of the present and the judgment of the
future. The question for each of us is--How can we face that judicial
and punitive action of that Divine Providence which works even here,
and how can we face the judicial and punitive action in the future?
I suppose you all believe, or at least say that you believe, that there
is such a future judgment. Have you ever asked yourselves the question,
and rested not until you got a reasonable answer to it, on which, like
a man leaning on a pillar, you can lean the whole weight of your
expectations--How am I to come into the presence of that devouring
fire? Have you any fireproof dress that will enable you to go into the
furnace like the Hebrew youths, and walk up and down in the midst of
it, well and at liberty? Have you? 'Who shall dwell amidst the
everlasting fires?'
That question has stirred sometimes, I know, in the consciences of
every man and woman that is listening to me. Some of you have tampered
with it and tried to throttle it, or laughed at it and shuffled it out
of your mind by the engrossments of business, and tried to get rid of
it in all sorts of ways: and here it has met you again to-day. Let us
have it settled, in the name of common-sense (to invoke nothing
higher), once for all, upon reasonable principles that will stand; and
do you see that you settle it to-day.