The Better Resurrection

Edward Griffin (1770—1837)
 

Hebrews 11:35
"And others were tortured, not accepting deliverance, that they might obtain a better resurrection."

 

The apostle in this chapter was contemplating the power of faith in the ancient saints. To comfort the Hebrew Christians under their various trials, he reminded them how cheerfully Abraham, at the divine command, left his father's house and all his kindred, and removed into a land of strangers, "not knowing where he went;" and how, for the kingdom of heaven's sake, he was contented to find no abiding habitation, and to wander about from place to place, "dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob." The reason assigned for this conduct was, that he considered this world not as his home, but "looked for a city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God." The apostle then proceeded to consider the resembling conduct of the innumerable saints who descended from Abraham, and observed in general, "These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth." He particularly noticed the conduct of Moses, who had "refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter; choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season." From Moses he descended down the ages, (taking notice, as he passed along, of the power of faith in the most distinguished saints,) until he arrived at the times of persecution. Here he commenced a most affecting account of the miseries endured by the people of God. "And others were tortured, not accepting deliverance, that they might obtain a better resurrection. And others had trial of cruel mockings and scourgings, yes moreover, of bonds and imprisonment. They were stoned; they were sawn asunder; were tempted; were slain with the sword; they wandered about in sheep skins and goat skins, being destitute, afflicted, tormented; (of whom the world was not worthy:) they wandered in deserts and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth." Those who were stretched upon racks or fastened to stakes, might, by renouncing their religion, have risen up from the threatened death, (which would have been a sort of resurrection;) but they hoped to rise to an incomparably better life than they could enjoy on earth. They hoped to rise in one hour to the heavenly rest, and to carry up those tortured bodies in the final resurrection. Both of these may probably be comprehended in that "better resurrection" which they contrasted with a guilty escape from the threatened death.

Those saints had a realizing sense that this earth was not their home. They sought not its pleasures as their portion; and they little regarded its trials, provided they could obtain a part in the "better resurrection." They discovered something in the regions beyond the grave which appeared unspeakably glorious, and which worldlings know nothing about. It becomes then an interesting inquiry, what there is beyond the bounds of this world which could so attract the eyes of martyrs from present objects, and cause them to exult amidst the agonies of a lingering death. If there is not something in Heaven supremely desirable, these men were deranged, and even Christ died in vain. Let us,

I. Reflect on the lesson taught us by the conduct of the ancient saints, that this earth is not our home.

II. Inquire what there is in Heaven which could encourage them to endure such extreme sufferings.

III. Contemplate the glories of the resurrection which they had in view.

I. Let us reflect on the lesson taught us by the conduct of the ancient saints, that this earth is not our home.

Had Abraham felt himself at home on earth, he would have sought some fixed abode and associated with the rest of the world, and not have wandered about in strange countries, dwelling in tents and feeding cattle. Had Moses considered this earth his home, he would not have renounced the honors and pleasures of Egypt, to consume his life in the deserts of Arabia. Had the martyrs regarded this earth as their home, they would not have roamed "in deserts and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth;" much less would they have been "tortured, not accepting deliverance," when by renouncing their religion they might have lived and enjoyed the smiles of the world. And did modern Christians look on this earth as their home and supreme good, they would regard it with far different eyes; and though they must consider it a contemptible portion, they would make the best of it, and not incur the derision of its inhabitants by their scrupulous sanctity. If the wondering world inquire why Christians separate themselves from the vanities which others supremely seek, let them know that the children of the immortal King consider not this earth as their home, but account the richest good it contains as trash compared with the heavenly inheritance. It is so filled with trials that they regard it rather as a prison in which they are confined for their faults, than as a paradise to make them happy. It is a world full of sins which exceedingly distress them, and they know that while they remain here they shall continue bound to this body of death. It is a dark world, enlightened with few rays from Heaven, and in which a scanty portion of that good is enjoyed for which they so earnestly pant. They view themselves in an enemy's country, surrounded with snares and dangers. And can they rest in such a state? O no: did they suppose they were always to continue here, their hearts would sink within them. Should their Father tell them that they might possess the whole world to eternity, but should never enjoy him or ascend to him, the doleful tidings would lay them dead at his feet. But far different prospects actually lie before them. Their Savior has told them that mansions are prepared for them in the heavens. They believe the report, and live on the hope of soon ascending to possess them. They consider themselves placed in this valley of tears for a few days, only to prepare for that blessed world where they hope to spend an eternity. They feel themselves on the wing to be gone. Their lips are almost ready to pronounce the last farewell. They are ascending. Soon they will be out of sight. The earth is seen no more, and they are in Heaven. O can it be a wonder that the ancient saints were so indifferent to their condition on earth? Is it not rather a wonder, when the world treated them thus and Heaven stood full in their view, that their souls did not leap out before the time and flee away to their Father's arms? Especially when we consider,

II. What glorious things there are in heaven. Who can comprehend the blessedness which God has "laid up for them that fear" him? Who can conceive how great a good must be bestowed to satisfy infinite benevolence? But though we cannot do justice to the subject, yet enough may be said to show that Christians are not mad when they give up the world as dross and pant after the heavenly rest.

In Heaven a full and constant sense of God's favor, and uninterrupted communion with him, are enjoyed. In this world guilt and unbelief frequently represent him as an enemy, and sin is perpetually interrupting our communion with him. But in Heaven there is no unbelief, no sin, no guilt unpurged. The Savior is never hid. His nail prints and the desires of his heart constantly plead in the hearing of all Heaven: and the saints fully know that their guilt is entirely and eternally washed away. Not a frown clouds the face of God. They see him to be filled with love to them individually, infinitely greater than ever throbbed in a mother's heart. If a faint glimpse of a reconciled God and imperfect communion with him on earth, afford such vast delight, what unspeakable ecstasies must transport the soul when it is permitted to live in his bosom. If joys like these are in Heaven, is it any wonder that afflicted Christians pant to flee away and be at rest?

"Sure 'tis a Heaven worth dying for,
 To see a smiling God!"

In Heaven the most perfect love and gratitude are exercised towards God. In this life Christians are tortured with remaining sin, and go mourning all their lives under this load of death. They would give worlds to be wholly delivered from it. But in Heaven this perfection is enjoyed. In that blessed world they are all melted into tenderness and love. If a few faint motions of love to God on earth produce delights with which nothing else below the sun can compare, how far beyond all present conception must be the blessedness of loving him with the whole heart and soul. The saints in Heaven possess the clearest views of his character, and the most affecting sense of his love and mercy to them. They see the infinite value of that glory which Christ purchased for them, and the unbounded price which he paid for it. With what meltings of gratitude do they look up to the prints in his hands and feet and side, and down to Hell to see the miseries from which his dying agonies delivered them: and then how do they cast their crowns at his feet and say, "Unto him that loved us and washed us from our sins in his own blood, and has made us kings and priests unto God and his Father; to him be glory and dominion forever and ever." With what sweet delay do they dwell on the name of Jesus. With what ineffable delight do they look up among the glories of his nature, and look abroad and see him diffused through all Heaven. This is their delightful and eternal employment. Is it any wonder that the martyrs broke through the fiercest terrors of death to reach such a Heaven?

The glorified saints possess the clearest apprehensions of the perfect and unchangeable happiness of God and of his kingdom. This is a source of the most pure and exalted delight. They are transported to see that though they cannot recompense God, he is his own reward; that he is all that reward to himself that he ever expected or desired; that he will be completely glorified, and all his purposes accomplished to his full satisfaction; that his kingdom is safe and the universe blessed to the highest possible degree.

The saints in glory have attained to vastly greater knowledge than they ever possessed on earth. While here, they longed to understand more of God and of the wonders of redemption; but now their capacities are filled with the heavenly science. They possess the clearest views of the character of God; of his infinite sufficiency for all the purposes for which it is desirable that he should live and reign; of the fitness of the system which he has adopted to accomplish every wise and benevolent end; of the transcendent wonders of redemption; of the infinite evil of sin and the astonishing reach of mercy. It is their constant employment to study into the works and ways of God, to observe the issues of his dispensations, and to read, through the universe, new lessons of his wisdom, goodness, and power, of his justice, mercy, and truth.

In Heaven they enjoy a more perfect use of their memory than they did on earth. They remember the various scenes of distress through which they passed, and this renders their present rest the sweeter. They look back on all the dangers and enemies which beset them by the way, and this endears their present safety. They review those numerous seasons in which they mourned an absent God, and call to mind their many distressing doubts and fears; and this renders still more precious their present enjoyment of God and their assurance of his eternal love. They look back on the awful conflicts which they had with temptation, and this enhances the value of their eternal deliverance. They recall to mind their abounding sins, and this renders divine mercy the more precious and amazing. They remember the many instances of God's tender care of them in their trials; how often, when every other helper failed, he came to their relief; how often, when they seemed on the point of being swallowed up by their enemies, he hastened to their rescue; and these recollections endear him still more to them and sweeten their communion with him.

The glorified saints enjoy the most perfect friendship with angels and with each other. They have no separate interests, and each loves his brother as himself. If it is so sweet to enjoy communion with Christian friends on earth, what will it be where this communion is perfect? There the least Christian calls Gabriel his brother, and is linked, as in one soul, with seraphim and cherubim. He beholds Adam and Noah, and converses with them of things before the flood. He walks and sits and talks with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, with Moses and David and Daniel, with Peter and Paul, and hears them tell of the wondrous things recorded in the Bible. He lives in the same family with the martyrs, and holds the tenderest fellowship with those with whom he once prayed and wept and sighed for the present rest. What tender fellowship do parents hold with their children, and ministers with their people, whom they have been the means of introducing to that world. What ecstasies do long separated friends enjoy at meeting where they shall part no more. O, says the newly arrived spirit, have I found you at last? Have we met and shall we part no more? This is far unlike the parting hour when I closed your eyes, and weeping said, I ne'er shall see you more. And this is far unlike the tedious days that I have spent on earth without you. See the blessed spirits whose cares and conflicts on earth were one, and who lived and loved and prayed and fought together; see them seated on the banks of the immortal stream, recounting the trials of the wilderness. With what endearment do they look back on their common dangers and sufferings, and point to the places where they prayed and wept together. With what tenderness do they remember the sympathy and assistance received from each other by the way. And is it any wonder that the martyrs were eager to escape from the hands of their persecutors into that world of harmony and love?

This is the less wonderful when it is considered that Heaven is a place of perfect rest, from which pains and conflicts are forever excluded. They had been long toiling in a wearisome world, and had known sorrows to the full. Was it not natural for them to long to fly away and be at rest? None of their sufferings have followed them up the heavenly hills. Their sorrows endured "for a night" and "joy" came "in the morning."

To complete their blessedness they have no fears that it will ever end. On earth a gloom was cast over every enjoyment by the reflection that it would soon expire. But now some of them have been in Heaven near six thousand years, and they have no apprehension that their joys are nearer an end than at first. On earth they were almost afraid to take the comfort of what little they had, lest they should soon exhaust the store. But now they do not hesitate to give themselves up to the full enjoyment of the boundless good. They look forward to its everlasting continuance, and probably to its eternal increase. There is something in the contemplation of eternal, increasing glory, that is "grand beyond a seraph's thought." Upon the supposition of an eternal progression in knowledge and happiness, the time will come when the smallest saint in Heaven will be as much greater and happier than Gabriel now is, as Gabriel now is greater and happier than an infant. And still to increase without end. Imagination falters and turns back from the pursuit. And now judge you: is it any wonder that the martyrs, in view of this "exceeding and eternal weight of glory," should shout amidst the flames on which they ascended to God? It seems from our text that while their bodies were struggling with death, they cast their eyes forward to the time when their dust should rise again. This leads me,

III. To contemplate the glories of the resurrection.

Wonderful, glorious, awful day! How amazed should we be to see its wonders suddenly break upon us. Such amazement will seize a careless world when the time arrives. And it is not far from us. A few more suns will bring it forward. Let us contemplate it with as much solemnity as though its first commotions were now beginning to agitate the distant sky.

Time will be when all the martyrs and saints, as they are scattered over the heavenly plains, will suddenly hear the trumpet sound. They start at the transporting summons. Their hearts flutter with joy and great expectations. The day has come, say they, which we saw in the agonies of death. Suddenly all the heavenly legions gather round the standard of their Prince. The King is arrayed in tenfold glories. His artillery and furniture of war are prepared. With the grandeur of a God he leaves the heavens and places his throne in the region above this earth. The saints and angels gather around, with great expectations, to see the wonders which are about to unfold. The trumpet sounds again. The blast shakes the universe. The earth is affrighted to its center. The planets are torn from their orbits. Worlds dash against worlds. The disjointed universe is in flames. The general shock has broken off the covering of Hell, and the awful glories of the day break in upon the damned with unknown terrors. They are forced to ascend. The horrid forms come swarming forth. The saints shudder and crowd nearer to their Prince. The universal convulsion has opened all the graves. The dead bodies begin to move. The scattered dust is collecting from all quarters, and is flying in different directions to seek its kindred dust. The saints descend to find their bodies, now changed into glorious forms, resembling that of Christ; the rebel host also get possession of their own, marked with haggard deformity.

Columns of rising dead now fill all the air, some with shrieks and some with halleluias on their tongues. When they approach the tribunal they divide, these going to the right and those to the left. An awful pause ensues. The books are opened. All the secrets of men are brought forth to light. Their sins of thought, word, and deed are exposed to an astonished universe. All the virtues too of the saints are found faithfully recorded, and are spread out to the view of approving angels. All the intricacies of God's providence are disentangled, and all his dispensations, explained, and that becomes the day of the "revelation of" his "righteous judgment." How gloriously do his wisdom, goodness, and faithfulness now shine in those things which once appeared confused and even hard. Amidst those awful solemnities, with what emotions do the saints look down and behold the earth in flames, which was once the scene of all their trials. With what feelings do the martyrs look down on those places where they were bound to the rack or the cross or the stake. Ah with what eyes do they now behold their persecutors, whom they see convulsed with horrors and crying to rocks and mountains to cover them.

The grand account is taken, and the Judge prepares to speak. With a face beaming like Heaven he turns to the right: "Come you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world." He turns to the left. A thousand tempests lower upon his brow. The affrighted ranks fall back on each other and would gladly hide themselves in the eternal deep. Hell hears the sound and trembles through all her coast. "Depart from me, you cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels. —And these shall go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous into life eternal."

O you children of the immortal King, learn to look with indifference on all the scenes below the sun, and let them all be swallowed up in a view of eternity. How did this view transport the martyrs above their agonies. And where are they now? Do they now repent that they renounced the world and accounted themselves "strangers and pilgrims on the earth?"

Our subject shows the inconceivable happiness of the children of God. They are just on the verge of immortal glory. A few days more and all their sorrows will cease, and they will stand on Mount Zion with harps in their hands and crowns of glory upon their heads. Whatever convulsions shake the world—whatever judgments perplex the nations—they have abundant reason to "rejoice evermore." Children of God, be much in the contemplation of your future inheritance. Were your eyes constantly fixed on that blessed state, it would be impossible for every trifle to cast you down. Look on Heaven as near. One reason why the view no more affects you, is that you place it at a great distance. Did you know that you were about to enter it to day, the very thought would raise you to it. Well, the time is near. Perhaps before the sun shall set you will stand on the heavenly hill with Abraham and Moses and David. And if Heaven is worth so much, then let nothing else come in competition with it. Tread the world beneath your feet. Let your whole souls be engaged to secure the immortal crown. But above all, if you would be affected with these glorious realities, you must firmly believe the declarations of God's word; for "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."

But you who have no part in these blessings, how "wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked; "doomed to eternal fire, and probably to ever increasing torments: no Father in Heaven, and no Savior but him you have trampled under foot: the implacable enemies of God, and fit to be given over to hellish rage and to the society of devils. What will be your feelings when the splendors of that day shall break in upon your astonished sight, and you shall behold Christians admitted to that glory and you yourselves banished to Hell? Would you not then give ten thousand worlds for the place of the meanest slave who has reached the heavenly kingdom? Now you may have salvation "without money and without price," but then it will be too late. O think of it in season. Hasten before the last trumpet shall awaken you to sleep no more. Arise without delay and put your faces in the dust. Repent and cry for mercy, and submit to God, and stretch out your hands to Christ—or forever die.