"The whole creation groans,
And waits to hear that voice,
That shall restore her loveliness,
And make her wastes rejoice.
Come, Lord, and wipe away
The curse, the sin, the stain,
And make this blighted world of ours
Your own fair world again!"
"Nevertheless we, according to his promise, look for new
heavens and a new earth, wherein dwells righteousness."—2 Peter 3:13.
Little has been said in Scripture fitted to gratify an
idle curiosity regarding the circumstantials of future bliss. The extreme
and studied reserve, indeed, of the sacred writers on this subject forms one
of the striking indirect evidences that they were neither impostors nor
enthusiasts—neither pleasers of men, nor compilers of cunningly-devised
fables. Had they been so, they would doubtless have appealed more than they
have done to the imaginations and passions of their readers, expatiating on
the scenery and splendors of the world to come.
While, however, the statements are brief and fragmentary
regarding the locality and characteristics of Heaven, it becomes us, with a
modest precaution, to be "wise up to what is written." The verse of the
apostle Peter offers us two themes for meditation on a future state of
bliss—two Grapes to be gleaned from the Eschol clusters.
1st, We are to look for "new heavens and a new earth."
The present globe on which we dwell is to undergo a purifying process by
fire. When the day of the Lord comes "as a thief in the night," "the
heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with
fervent heat, the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned
up," (2 Peter 3:10.) Although, however, a conflagration be here spoken
of, we have strong reason to conjecture that this planet, over which "the
morning stars sang together," and which the Almighty Creator Himself
pronounced to be "very good," is not to be annihilated—not to be
expunged from the "records of creation"—but rather only remolded and
reconstructed into a "new earth," nobler and more beautiful than when
the Sons of God shouted over it their lofty anthems. Again, (although we
have no positive authority in assigning a special locality for the future
home of the glorified,) we can affirm, with strong grounds of certainty,
that that home—be it where it may—must consist of a material
habitation of some kind, suited to material bodies. Whatever change
may take place hereafter on our physical frames—however refined and even
spiritual in one sense they may be—we know that a glorified body
cannot, in the nature of things, be an ethereal, angelic, spiritual essence;
floating, in dreamy, shadowy form, through the regions of space. It must
assume a substantial, visible, tangible shape. It is to be "fashioned"
like unto the glorious resurrection-body of Jesus, (Phil. 3:21.)
Much of our present corporeal organism, as we may
afterwards more particularly note, may, and most probably will,
be retained and restored; only their functions vastly augmented, and the
sphere of activity vastly enlarged. If, then, for these glorified bodies
some local material habitation must necessarily be provided, another step
leads to the probable (the natural) inference, that their old abode,
purified and renovated, would form the most befitting locality for their
eternal residence.
We have seen, in a previous Meditation, that the Great
Being, at whose feet they are to cast their crowns, is most frequently
spoken of and adored by them under His suffering title, "The Lamb."
If He delights to remember earth as the scene of His humiliation—if
He delighted to dwell in its "habitable parts" in eras long antecedent to
the Incarnation, and before the millions He was to save were called into
existence—how much more will He delight to traverse it, when—"His blood, His
pain, His toils" all past—it becomes the monument and trophy of His
unspeakable grace and love! Is it not reasonable to infer that the theater
on which His redemption-work was achieved, so far from being erased from the
universe, will rather be retained—in restored and renovated beauty—a
lustrous point on which principalities and powers will delight to fix their
wondering gaze, and get from its memories fresh matter and motive for
praise? Will not the song listened to by Isaiah in the old Jerusalem
temple—when he heard "one cry to another"—rise to its full cadence, in the
ingathered Church of the Redeemed, when, on the platform of "the new earth,"
and under the dome of "the new heavens," the ten thousand times ten thousand
and thousands of thousands will be heard rolling in the threefold
ascription—"Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts! The whole EARTH is
full of His glory?" (Isa. 6:3.)
If we are forbidden to hazard stronger assertion, we may,
at all events, speak of all this as substantial conjecture. Earth (our own
present sin-stricken, woe-worn earth) may only have to put off these her
ashen robes of guilt and woe, to become a heavenly and eternal home for her
ransomed children—beautiful amid "a sisterhood of worlds." Scripture
significantly speaks, not of the renewing or remodeling of all
things, but of "the restitution of all things," (Acts 3:21.) It is
the building of the old fabric which the earthquake had shattered—the
disentangling of stone by stone from the matting weeds and ivy, and
chiseling them afresh for the heavenly Temple. All that sin has left
uncorrupted may remain as it is. We may have the same glorious sky for a
canopy—the same everlasting mountains to gaze upon—the same grateful
vicissitude of seasons, the same winds to chant—the same waves to chime,
"Glory to God in the highest!"
The eye may be charmed, as now, with harmonious
coloring—the ear delighted, as now, with music and song. The
senses may be as susceptible (or more susceptible) than they now are of
the sublime and beautiful in nature—art may vindicate, under nobler
auspices, her claim to be the handmaid of all that is pure and lovely and of
good report—the harpers, harping on a glassy sea, undimmed and unfretted by
a ripple of sin or sorrow—the very words which are now at times attuned to
our sinful lips in a sinful world, may be set to the higher music and
melodies of a world of purity and love—"O Lord, how manifold are your
works! in wisdom have you made them all! THE EARTH is full of your riches!"
(Ps. 104:24.)
The 2nd statement in the words of Peter, is the
special characteristic of these "new heavens and new earth, wherein
dwells righteousness."
This brings us again to the great truth, that it is the
moral aspect and character of heaven, and not its locality,
which most concerns us. If the Bible descriptions and pictures of a
future state teach us anything, it is this—not to indulge in fanciful
theories about the accessories of heavenly bliss, but to keep our minds
focused on this great truth—that holiness characterizes that kingdom!
It matters comparatively little where we shall be, but it matters
much, and it concerns us much, to know what we shall be. We may not
be able categorically to pronounce whether Heaven is on some distant, and as
yet untraversed nook in creation; or whether it may be this very earth,
consecrated by so many mingled memories of sin, suffering, and glory. But
this we do know, that Righteousness will be the great law of that
blissful empire. We repeat the great truth dwelt upon in the previous
chapter—"It does not yet appear what we shall be, but we know that when
He shall appear, we shall be LIKE Him."
It is SIN which forms the foul curse and blot on the
"present evil world." In itself, our earth is all one could wish as a
beauteous and befitting habitation for glorified natures. Take sin away,
which has blighted and blasted whatever is fair within it, and you transmute
it at once into a "Paradise restored." Yes! imagine this world—this very
world—purged of its evils—its selfishness—its profligacy—its
covetousness—its jealousies—its backbitings—each heart a transparent
fountain of pure and holy thought—each household a little Bethel—every life
within it an incense-breathing altar—each nation linked with its fellow in
everlasting brotherhood—the curse of Babel removed, and the one universal
tongue the language of love!
Then, following the expulsion of sin, picture the
expulsion of SUFFERING. The cries of infancy—the pains of
sickness—the pangs of disease—the ashen cheek (the sad premonitory symptom
of coming dissolution)—the bitter bereavement—the tolling of the funeral
bell—the crowded grave-yard—the weeds of mourning, and deeper yawning chasms
of bitterness in the soul which no human plummet can gauge—imagine all these
unknown—these "former things passed away."
Moreover, add to this negative, the POSITIVE view
of a world of bliss—the presence of God—the personal love of an ever-present
Savior—fellowship with angels—communion with all that is holy and happy! Oh,
I need not go and make the sun my chariot, and sweep the azure skies—I need
not traverse the nightly plains, and make every star a resting-place in my
search for a happy heaven—I have it wherever God and righteousness is! He
might erect for me in infinite space some gigantic palace, glittering with
coruscations of unearthly splendor—its halls gleaming with the ransacked
treasures of the universe—resplendent with beauty, resonant with song. But
if sin were there—Heaven it could not be! "Blessed are the pure in heart;
they alone can see"—they alone can enjoy "God!" (Matt. 5:8.)
Is my mind and character now, in any feeble
measure, fitted for this sinless abode? No unrenewed, unregenerate man could
be happy there. Take a peasant from the plough, and set him on a throne; how
ill at ease would he feel at the strange transition!—how ill qualified to
cope with the duties and cares and responsibilities of empire! Take a deaf
man to listen to melodious music—or a blind man to gaze on the glories of a
landscape, both would fail to imbibe one pleasurable emotion, seeing they
are destitute of the requisite inlets of enjoyment. The objects of pleasure
are, in both cases, locked to their senses.
So likewise in Heaven. Without holiness, I could have no
relish for communion with God. I must have a moral vision to render me
capable of appreciating the moral loveliness of its scenery—I must have
spiritual tastes and likings to render its holy society congenial. As little
could an inhabitant of our earth, with his present bodily organization, be
able to sustain life on a planet nearer the sun, (such as Mercury,)
as the sinner, with his spiritual organization unchanged, be able to bear
the blaze of that heaven of unsullied purity!
O happy time! when alike the world without and the world
within will be purified—hallowed—"made fit for the Master's use." Every
sinful passion quelled—every usurper overthrown—when from this creation, now
"groaning and travailing in pain," shall arise a perpetual hymn of praise
and love—when sin, which like a vast avalanche has been crushing it down,
shall have melted away forever! And more than this, when my own
heart—regenerated, glorified—will become a consecrated altar, on which the
sacrifices of righteousness will be offered continually—self, sin,
corruption, no longer burning their defiled incense and strange fire, but
all shall "grow" into a "holy temple in the Lord."
Lord! I would seek to have this Heaven begun! Let me not
only see the Eschol clusters—let me taste them. Give me grace
to become more and more holy. Let the power of evil wax weaker and weaker,
and the power of holiness wax stronger and stronger. It has been beautifully
said, "The upper streets of glory are on earth." Let it be so with me. Let
my heart become now a miniature heaven. Let me know, in my blissful
experience, the truth of the Savior's words, "The kingdom of God is
WITHIN you."
"Many a joyful sight was given,
Many a lovely vision here,
Hill, and valley, and starry heaven,
Friendship's smile, affection's tear;
These were shadows, sent in love,
Of realities above!
"Here were sweet and varied tones,
Bird, and breeze, and fountain's fall;
Yet Creation's travail-groans
Ever sadly sighed through all.
There no discord jars the air,
Harmony is perfect there!
"Here devotion's healing balm
Oft came to soothe my breast,
Hours of deep and holy calm,
Pledges of eternal rest.
But the glory was unknown,
Which shall there be all my own!"