By REV. JOHN MACLAURIN, who was born October, 1693; died September, 1754. He was an eminent minister of the Gospel in Glasgow from 1723 until his death.
(Continued from page 55.)
ONE of the most ingenious libertines that I have read, objects against the doctrine of vindictive justice in God, as if it could not be maintained without clothing the Deity with human frailties and passions, anger, provocation, revenge, and the like; of which he says, we might be so well acquainted with our own nature, as to reflect that these are human infirmities, and not Divine perfections. If this objection prove any thing, it proves by far too much; if it has any force at all, it confutes experience; for experience shows that sinners suffer a great many pains and troubles in this life, besides the pains of death. Almighty power could hinder these pains. Infinite goodness would hinder them, if they were not merited by the sins of men, and agreeable to the justice of God. If God can, and does, inflict manifold pains for sin in this life, without any thing like human frailty or passion, surely there is no reason why the same may not be done in as perfect a manner in the next world. It is the observation of the wisest of men, that because sentence is not speedily executed on an evil work, therefore men’s hearts are hardened with false hopes of impunity. These are the flattering thoughts of sinners at ease. But the heavy and dismal disasters of life, and the exquisite pains of sickness, give them generally a new light. While the minds of men are intoxicated with prosperity, they may make a shift to delude themselves with such false notions of God’s goodness, as may banish for a time all dread of His justice. But surely arguing against experience is the most extravagant arguing in the world. These speculations will not argue away all the public and private calamities with which the world is overspread, and from which no age, no rank or condition of men, is exempted. It is vain to object that these troubles flow from natural causes; justice can use natural causes in punishing sin. God is the author of nature, and ruler of the world. And surely it is not the way to extol His goodness, to say, that though His creatures suffer various pains or troubles, yet that they do not deserve it, or that it is not on account of their sins. They that maintain vindictive justice zealously assert, according to the Scriptures, that there is nothing of passion, or anger, or revenge in it, in the proper sense, but on the contrary, that it is perfectly serene, and exercised, so to speak, with infinite calmness. The chief abettors of this doctrine, perhaps all of them, affirm that, in the matter of vindictive justice, God is to be considered, not merely as a private person, or offended party, but as a public person, or supreme magistrate, who himself alone is capable of judging what are those measures in the punishment of sin that are absolutely best, in order to the most perfect and most excellent way of governing the world. It is goodness as well as justice in a supreme magistrate, to make laws that are for his own honour, and the good of his subject. It is goodness to give force to these laws by a suitable sanction or penalty annexed to them. And it is plain, the same goodness that requires such laws should be made, requires that the authority of them should be maintained; which is done by putting them in execution. Every body knows that the honour of the magistrate, and the interest of society, suffer by it, when excellent laws are neglected, and their authority destroyed. These, and the like considerations, satisfy men as to human government, that true justice and true goodness are so far from being inconsistent, that they are inseparable; and there is no reason why the same may not be acknowledged in the divine government. It is evident, that none can be consistent with themselves, in acknowledging that there is such a thing as a law of nature, without acknowledging, at the same time, vindictive justice to punish the violations of it. A law without a penalty annexed to it, is not a law, but an advice. And a sanction or penalty that is no way put in execution, is not a sanction, but a bugbear. All which, if duly considered, might satisfy men that God’s vindictive justice may be conceived, without any the least resemblance of human passions. But not to insist on this further; another consideration, that may be of use on this subject, is, that whereas men may pass by and neglect a criminal, so as neither to do good nor ill to him, neither to reward nor punish him, neither to bestow favours nor to inflict deserved punishment on him; yet with respect to God it is otherwise. There is no medium between His heaping very great favours on a criminal, and leaving him in very great misery, unless He be supposed to annihilate him. For though God should inflict no positive punishment on a sinner, but only withdraw from him all the benefits and favours he has abused, and leave him to his own natural emptiness, to outrageous desires, and a vehement thirst after happiness, without any kind of enjoyment to gratify that thirst in the least, that alone would cause such a direful eternal melancholy, as cannot well be conceived. Death separates a sinner from all the outward earthly benefits which he had from God; and an impenitent sinner, who can expect after death new benefits and favours to abuse in the next life, as he did in this, must have very strange ideas of God, and of the end for which He created rational creatures. To this we may add, that sin or wickedness, by its very nature, incapacitates a man for the only true happiness of his soul, which consists in union with God and enjoyment of Him; and that is what cannot be had without conformity to Him. Sin therefore, in its very nature, is poison to the soul, tending to eternal death, separating it from God, who is its only life. This shows that the natural consequence of sin and ungodliness is itself a very dreadful punishment. And whatever further penalty God threatens against sin, besides its own natural dismal consequences, the justice of these threatenings is evident from the venomous nature of it; because the more hateful and pernicious any crime is in its own nature and natural effects, the more severe is the punishment it deserves. But what deserves more serious consideration is, the heinous injury sin does to God. Though none of the actions of His creatures can either increase or impair His happiness (which is infinite, and consequently unalterable,) yet inferiors may honour or injure superiors whom they can neither profit nor hurt. Every act of disobedience to God’s law is the height of injustice. Justice requires we give every one his own: our souls and our bodies are God’s: the faculties of the one, and the members of the other, should be employed in His service. Sin robs Him of his due, and turns, as it were, His workmanship, His own benefits, against himself. Every sin is an act of the blackest ingratitude to God, because He is our chief, yea our only benefactor—other benefactors and means of good being but instruments in His hand. Sin has outrageous boldness and presumption in it, because it is an affronting God to His face, for He is every where present. Sin affronts His power, by showing how regardless the sinner is of His favour, how fearless of His displeasure—His all-sufficiency, when the sinner prefers the creature to the Creator, and seeks happiness rather in the stream, than in the fountain—His wisdom, when the sinner prefers his own vain imaginations to the dictates and directions of Him whose understanding is infinite. It would be easy to enumerate several other divine perfections which sin affronts. Men usually measure the heinousness of an injury or affront by the dignity of the party offended. On this is founded that ordinary and obvious reason, that because the party offended by sin is infinite, an injury against Him in a manner infinitely surpasses other injuries. If, together with the destructive nature of sin in itself, the dignity of the party offended and injured by it, and the vast complication of affronts against Him involved in it, we consider, in the next place, the vast extent, the purity and endless duration of the Divine government, it may further enliven our impressions of the evil of sin and the justice of the threatenings against it. It is not needful to insist much in proving, that the purer any government is, the more will sin be discouraged, the severer will the penalty against it be. And it is certain that God’s government excels in purity all other governments whatsoever. It is no less evident, that the greater the extent and duration of a government is, it is of so much the greater importance that order be preserved, and rebellion, disobedience and disorder suppressed: because in such a case the contagion of vice, if it prevail, (and sin is found, by experience, to be naturally infectious and spreading, when unsuppressed and unpunished) is of the more extensive and durable influence. The more reason there is therefore for discouraging it; and motives of reward and punishment are very proper means for that end, and suitable to the nature of rational agents. Besides, the greater a government or dominion is, the greater is the danger by impunity of vice, and the less considerable is the loss by the strictest punishment of it. If we should suppose the bulk of a small city involved in rebellion, or some other capital crime, the particular governors of that place might be backward to punish the criminals, for fear of emptying their little dominion of inhabitants, and they cannot create new ones in their room: but if that city be considered as a part of a vast empire, in comparison of which that city is as nothing, it is easy to conceive, that it might be for the honour and interest of the whole empire to put the laws in strict execution against that guilty corner, if no other salvo could be found to maintain the honour of the government and the force and authority of the laws. It is easy to make an application of this to the Divine government. God’s kingdom is over all, and His dominion is from everlasting to everlasting. Some make an objection against the everlasting punishment of sin in the next life, from the shortness of the time in which it is committed in this. But surely, when other objections against that doctrine are refuted, this will appear to have but very little weight. In other cases men never think it reasonable to measure the demerit of any sin by the length of the time in which it is committed. Besides, this objection would have the same force, though our state of trial were a thousand times longer than it is. The longest time that can be imagined would still be nothing to eternity. Those who imagine men would have an easier way to heaven, if they had a longer life on earth, should see how that can be reconciled with experience, particularly with the history of the antedeluvian world. In effect, if we consider this matter impartially, the shortness of our state of trial, as it gives many great advantages to religion, so it rather aggravates than extenuates the evil demerit of sin. If men were to live some hundreds of years in this world, it is plain they would have a much stronger temptation to look on so long a tract of spiritual warfare, of a life of faith, as burdensome and tedious. The length of that race (as a course of obedience is called in Scripture) might dispirit and discourage them: the length of life would make the fatigue of duty and the pleasure of sin appear of greater importance. Besides, the reward being at so vast a distance, might contribute very much to render their impressions of it faint and languid. I can scarce consider a holy soul in such a state of trial, but as one oppressed with melancholy, to think that he behoved to be for so great a part of eternity (so to speak) out of heaven; that he behoved to languish so many centuries in absence from the object of his chief affections, and most vehement desires. On the other hand, according to the present state of things, the encouragements to duty are far stronger, and the allurements to sin far more insignificant. As to the eternal reward of grace, its distance is so short and uncertain, that if men were not infatuated, it is a wonder that it is not constantly present to their minds, and that its glorious brightness does not dazzle their eyes. A good man is never sure that heaven is at an hour’s distance from him. Then the pleasures of sin, and troubles of duty, are so fleeting and short-lived, that they are scarce felt, when they are presently vanished. It looks like a wilful contempt of happiness for one not to make the utmost efforts towards a life of faith and holiness, when one is under so strong obligations, has so vast encouragements, and but such insignificant hinderances; when the assistance offered is so powerful—the present pleasure so great—the labour so short, so little—the reward so near, so certain, so glorious, so lasting, yea everlasting. It looks like a choosing of misery, when one takes the course that leads to it, though he is sure eternity is not far off, at the furthest he can possibly expect; when he knows not but the next moment may land him on that unknown shore, and plunge him in an abyss of wretchedness; when he runs that risk for pleasures which he is not sure whether he shall ever attain to, and which he is sure will vanish away like shadows. It were easy to multiply arguments, to show that the shortness of life, instead of extenuating the demerit of sin, is a very high aggravation of it. And in effect, that man must have a very extravagant way of thinking, who imagines, that though it be difficult to serve God, and watch against sin for a few scores of years, yet that it would be easy to do so for many thousands.