Falling into the Hands of the Living God!

Part 2

Matthew Mead, 1629-1699

"It is a terrifying thing to fall into the hands of the living God!" Hebrews 10:31

Now, I will give you some demonstration of this truth, that to fall into the hands of the living God is a very terrifying thing. I will explain it by a variety of demonstrations.

FIRST, from that which is the chief subject of this misery—and that is the soul of man. When a man falls into the hands of the living God, it is the soul that is the chief subject of this misery; and I shall speak to this gradually in six things.

That the soul of man being by nature a spirit, and spirit of an intelligent order, and a spirit assimilated to God in its subsistence and faculties, and bearing his image, it must for that reason be very sensible of all the impressions of God on it, and of all the weight of his wrath.

The eye is not as sensible until it is touched, as the spirit of a man is of the least touch of God's indignation. It is that which immediately wounds the soul, and a wounded spirit who can bear? Wounds in the flesh are tolerable, because they are outside—but inward wounds, which touch the spirit of a man, they are insufferable. Who can bear them?

The soul is capable of the greatest good—or the greatest evil.

(1). It is receptive of more goodness, than is in all the creatures in the world. All present comforts are too little to fill it, for the desires of the soul are boundless. How can bounded enjoyments satisfy boundless desires? Nothing but an infinite good can fill the soul of man.

(2). It is receptive of more evil and misery, than all the creatures under Heaven can put into it, therefore no sufferings of any kind from a finite hand can make a man truly miserable.

The soul is made for God, and made to be filled only with God, and that either in a way of love and blessedness—or in a way of wrath and vengeance. All that is called blessedness in Heaven, all the pleasures of that state can never fill the soul without the immediate presence and enjoyment of God there. Just so in Hell, all the miseries of that state can never fill the soul with evil. They cannot destroy the well-being of it, and this is the reason why Christ does not bid us to fear man in the height of his wrath and rage, because they can only kill the body. If they could kill the soul as God can, then they were to be feared as God is, for that is the very reason why Christ once and again calls us to fear God, because he can cast both body and soul into Hell.

Inferior spirits to him who is the Father of Spirits, can greatly vex, and trouble the spirit of man.

When King Saul had but one evil spirit from the Lord sent to him, how was his soul terrified, though in the midst of the enjoyments of a kingdom.

And though the apostle Paul had been wrapped up into the third Heaven, and had such ravishing views of the glorious objects there, as confirmed his faith, and highly fortified his spirits—yet at the buffeting of one demon, how distressed and disturbed he is, that he is not able to bear it. But Christ tells him for his support, that his grace should be sufficient for him.

Now if it is so terrible to be vexed and set on by spirits that are but creatures—then what is it to fall into the hands of that Great Spirit, who is God over all? These spirits have nothing to do with us beyond this world. They are the rulers of the darkness of this world, and there their power ends. When Christ gives up his kingdom, then the damned spirits shall rule no more. In the eternal state we are in the hands of God. And if it is so terrible to be in the hands of these infernal spirits—then what is it to fall into the hands of the living God?

These souls that fall into the hands of the living God, fall into them in sin, and so are made the everlasting subjects of wrath and misery. Sin makes them vessels of wrath, by fitting them for destruction, (Romans 9:22). Take a barrel, and it will burn as it is wood, but if it is full of pitch or any combustible matter, it will burn more readily. It is sin which makes Hell so hot! It is sin which kindles God's wrath, and His wrath is a devouring fire.

The wrath of God in the future state falls chiefly on the soul, though body and soul both shall be subjects of God's wrath. In that day both shall bear their parts in suffering. As they have sinned together—so they shall suffer together. But yet the soul bears the greatest part of God's wrath, having been the greatest instrument in sin.

In that state of the soul, all the affections that are renovating and refreshing shall utterly cease, and those affections that serve to heighten our torment shall be drawn forth. There are in the soul some affections that do greatly relieve and support a man in the utmost misery—such as joy, delight, and hope. When these are kept up in acts, they bring in a great deal of delight and support under the most burdensome evils in the world. But when the soul falls into the hands of the living God, these affections cease. Hope, which perishes, along with joy and delight—are cut off forever.

But on the other hand, those affections are drawn forth which greatly aggravate the torment. The soul shall then be filled with grief and sorrow, with weeping and wailing forever. In that state the eyes of the soul shall be always awake to behold their misery. This then is one demonstration of this truth, that it is a terrifying thing to fall into the hands of the living God. All this is evident from that which is the chief subject of this misery, the soul of man. There is no misery equal to soul misery. There is no sufferings equal to soul sufferings. "Now is my soul troubled," Christ says, and that was the greatest of all his troubles.

That it is a terrifying thing to fall into the hands of the living God is evident from here, that the withdrawings of God from the souls of believers here in this world are so dreadful. Let God but hide his face, and withdraw from his people, and suspend the accustomed discoveries of his love—and it is as Hell to the soul. If this is so—then what is it to feel the weight of the whole of his wrath into eternity?

Let me in speaking to this, show you, what this withdrawing of God is. Then, I will lay down some conclusions concerning this withdrawing from believers here on earth. Make it out that, to be under these withdrawings of God is a very dreadful thing—and then to fall into the hands of God must necessarily be so.

What is this withdrawing of God? It must not be understood of his divine presence in its common and general notion. For there is no coming or going, no approaching nearer or drawing farther off, in regard of that. There is an immensity in the divine essence. In this sense God is everywhere present, in all places, in all persons, in the wicked as well as the good, as much in Hell as in Heaven. Hear that question of David, (Psalm 139:7-8). "Where shall I flee from your presence? If I ascend up into Heaven, you are there. If I make my bed in Hell, you are there!"

God is as much in one place as another. If a man were in the highest heavens, he is no nearer to the essence of God than in the lowest Hell. God cannot withdraw this presence of his from any creature for one moment. God is not God, if he is not everywhere. Therefore when God is said to withdraw and hide himself, or to desert a soul—it must have no respect to his essence at all, for when God embraces us in the arms of his mercy, his essence is no nearer us than when he hides his face from us.

Therefore this withdrawing and hiding of God from a soul, refers to a more special and peculiar presence, in other words, the presence of his grace, his quickening or comforting presence—and such a withdrawing is that of God from his people. These are either absolute or limited, either in appearance or reality.

Sometimes God withdraws his gracious presence absolutely and really—and no believer can be the object of this withdrawing. In this way he forsakes the fallen angels, and also forsakes reprobate sinners. But no believer can be in this way forsaken.

God may seem to withdraw absolutely from a Christian, but it is but in appearance. A soul may draw sad conclusions as Asaph did, that, "God has cast him off forever," (Psalm 77:7), but it cannot be, for the soul that says it, will see cause to unsay it again, as Asaph did (in the 10th verse,) "this is mine infirmity."

But then there is a limited withdrawing of God which is personal and momentary—and in this sense, God may be said to withdraw from his own people. Concerning these withdrawings, I would hint four things.

(1). Sometimes it may be, but a seeming withdrawal. As there is a real withdrawing of God—so there is a seeming withdrawing. God may be really present, when he seems to be absent. He is many times near us, when we know it not. Job says, "Lo he goes by me, and I see him not, he passes on, but I perceive him not," (Job 9:11). So Mary seeks and weeps for Christ, and cries out, "they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him," (John 20:13). And yet Christ at the same instant was just behind her. God may be nearest to us—when we think him farthest from us.

(2). There is a withdrawing of God, which respects only outward comforts. Spiritual influences may be great—when yet the stream of common mercies may be dried up. God, many times, when he gives least of the things of the world—gives most of himself, as when the Israelites' dough was spent, God gave them bread from Heaven.

(3). There is a withdrawing in regard of spiritual mercies, and so God sometimes withdraws from his own people—but then it is more as to a withdrawal of His comfort, than as to grace. He strengthens grace, even when he withholds comfort. Our Lord Christ was without the comforting presence of God when he cries out, "My God, My God! Why have you forsaken me?" But he was not without his strengthening presence. When he withdraws from the soul, he draws the soul after him; and so he is most present in power, when least in appearance.

(4). There is a forsaking or withdrawing of God as to grace. God not only takes away his comforting presence, but sometimes in a great measure his quickening presence too. David by the manner of his prayer seems to have lost both of these. (Psalm 51:11). "Take not your Holy Spirit from me," it implies he had lost his quickening presence, and in verse 12, "Restore unto me the joy of your salvation"—there is his comforting presence.

Now when God is said to withdraw his quickening presence, we are to understand it chiefly of such graces as are accessory, rather than such as are absolutely necessary. There are some graces which are for his well-being, and some for his being. Now the quickening in which a believer's well-being lies, may be lost in some measure—but that in which his being consists, cannot be lost.

There are some graces which are for the sweetening his way, and some for securing his end. Now the quickening of God may be withdrawn from the former, when not from the latter. This is the withdrawing of God that is of all the saddest, that can befall any believer in the world, when God withdraws his quickening presence.

Now let me premise some conclusions about this withdrawing of God. I do it for the instruction and quieting of believers, lest they should be dejected at what I shall speak about afterwards. There are eight conclusions I would lay down about God's withdrawing from his own people.

(1). That the special approaches and peculiar influences of God which he at any time promises to the soul of any of his people, are pure acts of his will, and are so to be received. They are not natural and necessary—but voluntary and free. His essential presence is necessary, and therefore common to all. But his gracious presence is an act of his will, and therefore the privilege of some only.

(2). These withdrawings of God from the soul are not to be understood as to the abating of his love—but the suspending the acts of his love. When we say God withdraws and has forsaken us—it is not meant that he has taken away his love. The love of God lies either in intention or execution; either in willing good or in working good. Now when God withdraws, he does not cease to will good, for that he cannot do any more than deny himself. When he has once taken a soul into union with himself, he wills good to that soul into eternity. Now when he is said to withdraw, we are to understand it of the acts of his love—he loves us, though he does not show it. God's love may be shut in, but the believer can never be shut out. The believer is still the object of God's love, though he suspend the acts of his love.

(3). This withdrawing of God from the soul, is not of what is necessary to his being, only to his well-being. A believer may lack that of God which is convenient to his comfort—but he shall never lack that which is necessary to life. He may be deprived of that without which he cannot have comfort and peace—but he can never be deprived of that without which he cannot live. Though he may lack that which may make his way comfortable—yet he shall never lack that which shall make his end safe. That word is as stable as Heaven itself, "he holds our souls in life!" The influences of his Spirit may be restrained—but the presence of his Spirit can never be recalled, for this is one of the gifts of God that are without repentance.

(4). Under the highest divine influences—we cannot be sure of their continuance without any interruption. God has given us no such assurance that our communion shall last always without any interruption—for that would be to secure us, that we should never sin, or to leave himself without liberty to show his dislike of sin when we commit it. For though God has said, "I will never leave you, nor forsake you," that respects the constant continuation of our union—yet it does not warrant the constant enjoyment of our communion. It makes sure to us the support of his grace—but not the comforts of his presence.

(5). In whatever degree God at any time withdraws himself from his people—yet as it is never total without some secret support, so it is never final without some hopes of a return. It is but for a season—and that season is short. It is, "in a little wrath," and that little wrath never lasts long. The sun may set upon a believer's comfort—but it will rise again. Our provocations may make God depart, but if they do, his own compassion will cause him to return.

(6). These withdrawings of God are consistent with the highest measures and most eminent degrees of grace. Who is more full of grace than the Lord Christ? Yet, his communion with God was suspended, and he was under these withdrawings himself. It is the privilege of saints on earth, to have a perfect lasting union with God. It is the privilege of saints in Heaven, to have a perfect and lasting communion with God.

(7). It is possible that a believer may lose the presence of God, though under the exercise of fear and care to preserve it. Was not this Job's case? "The thing which I greatly feared has come upon me, I was not in safety, nor had I quiet—yet trouble came," (Job 3:25-26). What trouble was this? Not only outward trouble, but it was the loss of God's presence which was a thousand times a greater trial. And in verse 23, "Why is light given to a man whose way is hidden?" And God does this sometimes by pure prerogative, to show us that our privileges are not of merit, but of grace.

(8). As the presence of God may be lost under the saints' fears and cares to preserve it—so it may not presently be found again, notwithstanding his diligence to recover it. Was it not so with Job? "O that I knew where to find him?" (Job 23:3). Yes, but what means does he use? All manner of means, as is implied in the 8th and 9th verse, "Behold, I go forward, but he is not there, and backward, but I cannot perceive him. On the left hand, where he works, but I cannot behold him. He hides himself on the right hand, that I cannot perceive him." Job spared no pains to seek him, but yet he could not for the present enjoy him. This is one of the exercises God is pleased to put his people on. He hides himself that he may be sought—and yet sometimes when he is sought, he will not presently be found.

And by way of conclusion to prevent misgiving thoughts in any weak Christian by what I am now to say, I state that these withdrawings of God are very bitter things, a heavy burden, and a great affliction. Nothing in the world can befall a child of God so afflicting, as the withdrawing of God. As communion with God is a good that sweetens all our troubles—so the loss of it is an evil that clouds all our comforts.

The loss of another mercy is but a particular evil, it is but blowing out our candle at noon, where we have light enough without it. But the loss of communion with God is like the setting of the sun, by which we are left in the dark, and have no light. No enjoyments can ever make up the loss of God's presence. All other comforts are but creatures, and what are all creatures to be placed in the place of God! It is not the presence of an angel that can stop the fountain of tears, which the absence of Christ sets open. "They have taken away my Lord!" There is no sorrow to a child of God, like the loss of communion with God. This I shall make out in five things.

(1). In that a believer accounts all the communion he has with God for the present, but a degree of unhappiness and misery, because it is imperfect. And if it is his misery not to enjoy God so much as he would—what is it not to enjoy him at all? If he complains when he is at the stream—then what will he do when the stream is cut off? This is the main point of a believer's unhappiness—that he has neither a full nor a fixed state of communion with God in this world. What a sorrow then must it be to lose that little, and to be deprived of his communion with God?

(2). The general sense of believers gives evidence of this truth, for they have ever accounted it the sorest affliction, next to the sin that caused it—to lose God's presence. There is no affliction so heavy to a true believer. David accounted it so, so did Asaph, and Heman. And this appears by their behavior when under it.

(1st). It occasions very unfitting thoughts of God, as if he were utterly gone, and would never return more—as if he had shut up his loving-kindness in utter displeasure. It thinks of him as cruel, and while the soul thinks it so, the anguish of his spirit is as great as if it were so. Dejection of spirit clouds the understanding, and causes such apprehensions of God, as fills the soul with terror.

(2nd). It causes desperate thoughts concerning ourselves, as if all was rotten and worthless, "My state is a lost state—and my profession is a deceit. I have been a secret hypocrite, and now the righteous God has found me out. Now I am past hope. Will God show mercy to the dead? Shall his loving kindness be made known in the grave?"

(3rd). It sometimes causes a believer to speak very harshly and unfittingly of God. O! How hard did Job speak of God, when this was his case. "Know that God has wronged me and drawn his net around me. Though I cry, 'I've been wronged!' I get no response; though I call for help, there is no justice. He has blocked my way so I cannot pass; he has shrouded my paths in darkness. He has stripped me of my honor and removed the crown from my head. He tears me down on every side till I am gone; he uproots my hope like a tree. His anger burns against me; he counts me among his enemies!" (Job 19:6-11).

What dreadful things these are to be spoken of God, by a godly man? What a sad reflection he makes on God's justice?

(4th). Sometimes it stirs up in believers, dreadful passions, as fear and trembling, so, "Fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones to shake!" (Job 4:14). "When I remember God, I am afraid, and trembling takes hold of my flesh!" (Job 21:6).

(5th). Sometimes it works a fearful despondency, and brings down the soul to the very brink of despair. "I am set apart with the dead, like the slain who lie in the grave, whom you remember no more, who are cut off from your care. You have put me in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths. Your wrath lies heavily upon me; you have overwhelmed me with all your waves!" (Psalm 88:5-7).

Now see what the behavior of the believer is under the withdrawings of God—and this shows what a bitter thing it is. And it must necessarily be so afflicting, for how can a man who knows what the comfort of God's presence is, but be filled with trouble and terror at the hiding of God's face?

(3). This withdrawing of God is that which turns living hopes into killing fears, "I thought God had been my God, but now I am dealt with as an enemy. I hoped my saving interest in God had been sure, but now He writes bitter things against me." How sad must the case of that soul be—where hope dies and fear lives.

(4). This withdrawing of God from a believer is not only itself a burden, but it makes other things a burden too. Is not the sense of the guilt of sin a burden, where it is sensibly felt? It is a very heavy one. This is the fruit of God's withdrawing, for then the soul is made to turn in on itself with dreadful reflections, and then sins repented of and pardoned, appear to the soul as if they were unpardoned, and had never been forgiven! The soul is as if pardoning grace had never reached him, (Job 13:26). "You make me to possess the sins of my youth." The sense of all his sins from his childhood recurred on him, and he bore the burden as though they had never been forgiven.

Though when God pardons sin, he never remembers it more—yet he gives us occasion to remember it often. Though he never revokes a pardon—yet he often revokes the sense of pardon. Though a believer never loses his forgiveness—yet he may lose its sense—and in that sense, those sins which have lost their commanding strength, may appear to have in them great condemning strength. The guilt of sin may possibly lie as heavy on the conscience, as if it had never been pardoned.

Again, hardness of heart is a burden to every believer. It is such a great burden, a heavy burden, that he can have no ease under it. This is another fruit of the withdrawing of God, for when he withholds his quickening presence, the heart must necessarily grow harder. Isaiah 63:17, "Why, O LORD, do you make us wander from your ways and harden our hearts so we do not revere you?" God hardens no man's heart positively, that is, by infusing any evil quality or disposition that was not there before. But God may do that to a believing soul, on which hardness of heart will insensibly grow on it. He may withdraw his Spirit, his quickening presence, and influence. He may leave a man to himself, and to the lust of his own heart—and this must necessarily work to a great degree of hardness, and so God sometimes hardens the heart of his own children, that is, he withdraws and suspends his influence, and so a hardness grows on the heart. And must not this be a dreadful burden to a child of God—to be as if sin were never pardoned, and as if he was given up to hardness of heart?

(5). It is a very wounding thing, it makes sad wounds in the spirit and conscience of a believer. No wounds are like wounds in the conscience—they are such as none but God can cure. If the body is in misery—then external means may help. But when the soul is in distress—then who, or what can relieve it? It is out of the reach of every arm but God's. There is nothing that can wound the spirit of a man but the arrow of God—and nothing can relieve a wounded spirit, but the comforts of God. There are three things in God which wound the believing spirit in this case very sore—and they are:
His goodness,
His greatness,
and His eternity.

(1st) His GOODNESS, this is a wounding thing to a soul under God's hidings. The greater sense a deserted soul has of the goodness of God—the deeper is the wound that is caused by his withdrawing. The soul draws very bitter conclusions out of that attribute, which is a fountain of comfort to others.

"Unhappy I! That these streams of grace that flow so freely to others, should be shut up from me. How vile and sinful must I be, whom goodness itself rejects. Were there in me anything of God's image—then surely he would have regard to the work of his hands. Were I a child of God—then surely he would have the affections of a father!"

So the sense of God's goodness makes the wound of his withdrawing from the soul very deep and painful.

(2nd). Another thing which helps us is the sense of his power and GREATNESS. In this world the more men are clothed with power, the more we court their favor, and dread their frowns. "The wrath of a king is like the roaring of a lion," that is, it is very terrible and dreadful. And how dreadful then must the wrath of God be, who is so great as that there is none like him, and whose power there is none can withstand. He disposes of life and death at His pleasure—therefore how miserable must that soul be, that looks on itself as forsaken of that God, in whose favor is life, whose frowns are the foretastes of Hell and death.

The entire world cannot comfort a soul in this case, until God speaks comfort to it. Tell a prisoner who is going to be tried for his life, that his case is good, and he will certainly be acquitted. "Alas!" he says, "it is not what you say, but what will the judge say!" In the same way, tell a soul so distressed under God's hidings, "be of good comfort, your case is good, this cloud will be over, and Heaven will be the end of all." "O!" he says, "that God would say so to me—let my sentence come forth from his presence."

(3rd). Another thing which fills the believer with dread under the withdrawings of God, is His ETERNITY. To be cast off by a dying man is not much—but to be rejected by the ever-living God is dreadful. His eternity is that which puts a sweetness into his love, and makes the burden of his wrath intolerable: "O! What a dreadful thing it is to lose God forever! God who lives forever, and is the ever blessed God—this God has forsaken me! O! This makes a wound indeed, and such a wound as no hand can cure, but that which made it."

And can a soul be so wounded by the withdrawings of God, but it must necessarily feel unspeakable anguish and sorrow. It is that which turns his sunshine into darkness. Whatever is any way grievous, does now stand forth in its most astonishing appearance, and shows itself with a terrible greatness. Now sin is sin indeed, and guilt is guilt indeed, and death is death indeed, and Hell is Hell indeed! The soul is even born down under its sense, and is ready to take up David's complaint in Psalm 69:2, "I sink in the deep mire where there is no standing, I am come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me."

Nothing looks so like judgment as this. In other things the Christian combats with the creature—but in this, his contest is with God.

So that by all this, it appears to be a very terrible thing to be under the withdrawings of God in this world. And if so, O! then do but consider what it is to fall into the hands of the living God. To be under these withdrawings of God is consistent with his love—but none fall into his hands hereafter, but the vessels of wrath. If God hides his face now—it is but for a moment. But if you fall into his hands—it is for eternity. These are rods in the hand of love—but the others are scorpions in the hand of vengeance. These are anger mixed with mercy—but those in Hell are judgment without mercy.

That is a second demonstration which does clearly evidence the truth of this, that if it is such a dreadful thing for a believer, one of his own children that he loves as himself, to be under the withdrawings of God for a moment here—then what is it for a lost sinner to fall into the hands of the living God forever!