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Chapter V
I. The loss of heaven includes, 1. The personal perfection of the saints; 2. God
himself; 3. All delightful affections towards God; 4. The blessed society of
angels and glorified spirits. II. The aggravations of the loss of heaven; 1. The
understanding of the ungodly will then be cleared; 2. Also enlarged. 3. Their
consciences will make a true and close application. 4. Their affections will be
more lively. 5. Their memories will be large and strong.
If thou, reader, art a stranger to Christ, and to the holy nature and life of
his people, who have been described, and shalt live and die in this condition,
let me tell thee, thou shalt never partake of the joys of heaven, nor have the
least taste of the saints' eternal rest. I may say, as Ehud to Eglon, "I have a
message to thee from God;" that, as the word of God is true, thou shalt never
see the face of God in peace. This sentence I am commanded to pass upon thee;
take it as thou wilt, and escape it if thou canst. I know thy humble and hearty
subjection to Christ would procure thy escape; he would then acknowledge thee
for one of his people, and give thee a portion in the inheritance of his chosen.
If this might be the happy success of my message, I should be so far from
repining, like Jonah, that the threatenings of God are not executed upon thee,
that I should bless the day that ever God made me so happy a messenger. But if
thou end thy days in thy unregenerate state, as sure as the heavens are over thy
head, and the earth under thy feet, thou shalt be shut out of the rest of the
saints, and receive thy portion in everlasting fire. I expect thou wilt turn
upon me and say, When did God show you the book of life, or tell you who they
are that shall be saved, and who shut out? I answer, I do not name thee, nor any
other; I only conclude it of the unregenerate in general, and of thee, if thou
be such a one. Nor do I go about to determine who shall repent, and who shall
not; much less, that thou shalt never repent. I had rather show thee what hopes
thou hast before thee, if thou wilt not sit still and lose them. I would far
rather persuade thee to hearken in time, before the door be shut against thee,
than tell thee there is no hope of thy repenting and returning. But, if the
foregoing description of the people of God does not agree with the state of thy
soul, is it then a hard question whether thou shalt ever be saved? Need I ascend
up into heaven to know that "without holiness no man shall see the Lord;" or,
that only "the pure in heart shall see God;" or, that "except a man be born
again, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God?" Need I go up to heaven to
inquire that of Christ which he came down to earth to tell us, and sent his
Spirit in his apostles to tell us, and which he and they have left upon record
to all the world? And though I know not the secrets of thy heart, and therefore
cannot tell thee by name whether it be thy state or not; yet, if thou art but
willing and diligent, thou mayest know thyself whether thou art an heir of
heaven or not. It is the main thing I desire, that, if thou art yet miserable,
thou mayest discern and escape it. But how canst thou escape, if thou neglect
Christ and salvation? It is as impossible as for the devils themselves to be
saved; nay, God has more plainly and frequently spoken it in Scripture of such
sinners as thou art, than he has of the devils. Methinks a sight of thy case
should strike thee with amazement and horror. When Belshazzar "saw the fingers
of a man's hand that wrote upon the wall, his countenance was changed, and his
thoughts troubled him, so that the joints of his loins were loosed, and his
knees smote one against another." What trembling, then, should seize on thee,
who hast the hand of God himself against thee, not in a sentence or two, but in
the very scope of the Scriptures, threatening the loss of an everlasting
kingdom! Because I would fain have thee lay it to heart, I will show thee,
first, the nature of thy loss of heaven; secondly, its aggravations.
1. The glorious personal perfection which the saints enjoy in heaven, is the
great loss of the ungodly. They lose that shining lustre of the body, surpassing
the brightness of the sun at noon-day. Though the bodies of the wicked will be
raised more spiritual than they were upon earth, yet that will only make them
capable of the more exquisite torments. They would be glad then if every member
were a dead member, that it might not feel the punishment inflicted on it; and
if the whole body were a rotten carcass, or might lie down again in the dust.
Much more do they want that moral perfection which the blessed partake of; those
holy dispositions of mind; that cheerful readiness to do the will of God; that
perfect rectitude of all their actions: instead of these, they have that
perverseness of will, that loathing of good, that love to evil, that violence of
passion, which they had on earth. It is true, their understandings will be much
cleared by the ceasing of former temptations, and experiencing the falsehood of
former delusions but they have the same dispositions still, and fain would they
commit the same sins, if they could: they want but opportunity. There will be a
greater difference between these wretches and the glorified Christian, than
there is betwixt a toad and the sun in the firmament. The rich man's purple and
fine linen, and sumptuous fare, did not so exalt him above Lazarus while at his
gate, full of sores.
2. They shall have no comfortable relation to God, nor communion with him. "As
they did not like to retain God in their knowledge," but said unto him, "Depart
from us, for we desire not the knowledge of thy ways:" so God will abhor to
retain them in his household. He will never admit them to the inheritance of his
saints, nor endure them to stand in his presence; but "will profess unto them, I
never knew you; depart from me, ye that work iniquity." They are ready now to
lay as confident claim to Christ and heaven as if they were sincere, believing
saints. The swearer, the drunkard, the whoremonger, the worldling can say, Is
not God our Father as well as yours? But when Christ separates his followers
from his foes, and his faithful friends from his deceived flatterers, where,
then, will be their presumptuous claim? Then they shall find that God is not
their Father, because they would not be his people. As they would not consent
that God, by his Spirit, should dwell in them, so the tabernacle of wickedness
shall have no fellowship with him, nor the wicked inhabit the city of God. Only
they that walked with God here shall live and be happy with him in heaven.
Little does the world know what is the loss of that soul who loses God! What a
dungeon would the earth be if it had lost the sun! what a loathsome carrion the
body, if it had lost the soul! yet all these are nothing to the loss of God. As
the enjoyment of God is the heaven of the saints, so the loss of God is the hell
of the ungodly; and as the enjoying of God is the enjoying of all, so the loss
of God is the loss of all.
3. They also lose all delightful affections toward God: that transporting
knowledge; those delightful views of his glorious face; the inconceivable
pleasure of loving him; the apprehensions of his infinite love to us; the
constant joys of his saints, and the rivers ot consolation with which he
satisfies them. Is it nothing to lose all this? The employment of a king in
ruling a kingdom, does not so far exceed that of the vilest slave, as this
heavenly employment exceeds that of an earthly king. God suits men's employment
to their natures. Your hearts, sinners, were never set upon God in your lives,
never warmed with his love, never longed after the enjoyment of him; you had no
delight in speaking or hearing of him; you had rather have continued on earth,
if you had known how, than to be interested in the glorious praises of God. Is
it meet, then, that you should be members of the celestial choir?
4. They shall be deprived of the blessed society of angels and glorified saints.
Instead of being companions of those happy spirits, and numbered with those
triumphant kings, they must be driven down to hell, where they shall have
companions of a far different nature and quality. Scorning and abusing the
saints, hating them, and rejoicing at their calamities, was not the way to
obtain their blessedness. Now you are shut out of that company, from which you
first shut out yourselves; and are separated from them with whom you would not
be joined. You could not endure them in your houses, or towns, or scarcely in
the kingdom. You took them, as Ahab did Elijah, for the "troublers of the land;"
and, as the apostles were taken, for "men that turned the world upside down." If
any thing fell out amiss, you thought all was owing to them. When they were dead
or banished, you were glad they were gone, and thought the country well rid of
them. They molested you by faithfully reproving your sins. Their holy
conversation troubled your consciences, to see them so far excel you. It was a
vexation to you to hear them pray or sing praises in their families. And is it
any wonder if you be separated from them hereafter? The day is near when they
will trouble you no more. Betwixt them and you will be a great gulf fixed. Even
in this life, while the saints were "mocked, destitute, afflicted, tormented,"
and while they had their personal imperfections, yet, in the judgment of the
Holy Ghost, they were men "of whom the world was not worthy." Much more unworthy
will the world be of their fellowship in glory.
II. I know many will be ready to think they could spare these things in this
world well enough, and why may they not be without them in the world to come?
Therefore, to show them that this loss of heaven will then be most tormenting,
let them now consider,
1. The understanding of the ungodly will then be cleared to know the worth of
that which they have lost. Now they lament not their loss of God, because they
never knew his excellence; nor the loss of that holy employment and society, for
they were never sensible what they were worth. A man that has lost a jewel, and
took it but for a common stone, is never troubled at his loss but when he comes
to know what he lost; then he laments it. Though the understandings of the
damned will not be sanctified, yet they will be cleared from a multitude of
errors. They now think that their honors, estates, pleasures, health, and life
are better worth their labor than the things of another world; but when these
things have left them in misery, when they experience the things of which they
before but read and heard, they will be of an other mind. They would not believe
that water would drown, till they were in the sea; nor the fire burn, till they
were cast into it: but when they feel, they will easily believe. All that error
of mind which made them set light by God, and abhor his worship, and vilify his
people, will then be confuted and removed by experience. Their knowledge shall
be increased, that their sorrows may be increased. Poor souls! they would be
comparatively happy, if their understandings were wholly taken from them, if
they had no more knowledge than idiots or brutes; or, if they knew no more in
hell than they did upon earth, their loss would less trouble them. How happy
would they then think themselves, if they did not know there is such a place as
heaven! Now, when their knowledge would help to prevent their misery, they will
not know, or will not read or study that they may know; therefore, when their
knowledge will but feed their consuming fire, they shall know, whether they will
or not. They are now in a dead sleep, and dream that they are the happiest men
in the world; but when death awakes them, how will their judgments be changed in
a moment! and they that would not see, shall then see, and be ashamed.
2. As their understanding will be cleared, so it will be more enlarged, and made
more capacious to conceive the worth of that glory which they have lost. The
strength of their apprehensions, as well as the truth of them, will then be
increased. What deep apprehensions of the wrath of God, the madness of sinning,
the misery of sinners, have those souls that now endure this misery, in
comparison with those on earth that do but hear of it! What sensibility of the
worth of life has the condemned man that is going to be executed, compared with
what he was wont to have in the time of his prosperity! Much more will the
actual loss of eternal blessedness make the damned exceedingly apprehensive of
the greatness of their loss; and as a large vessel will hold more water than a
shell, so will their more enlarged understandings contain more matter to feed
their torment than their shallow capacity can now do.
3. Their consciences also will make a truer and closer application of this
doctrine to themselves, which will exceedingly tend to increase their torment.
It will then be no hard matter to them to say, "This is my loss! and this is my
everlasting remediless misery!" The want of this self-application is the main
cause why they are so little troubled now. They are hardly brought to believe
that there is such a state of misery; but more hardly to believe that it is like
to be their own. This makes so many sermons lost to them, and all threatenings
and warnings in vain. Let a minister of Christ show them their misery ever so
plainly and faithfully, they will not be persuaded they are so miserable. Let
him tell them of the glory they must lose, and the sufferings they must feel,
and they think he means not them, but some notorious sinners. It is one of the
hardest things in the world to bring a wicked man to know that he is wicked, or
to make him see himself in a state of wrath and condemnation. Though they may
easily find, by their strangeness to the new birth, and their enmity to
holiness, that they never were partakers of them; yet they as verily expect to
see God and be saved, as if they were the most sanctified persons in the world.
How seldom do men cry out, after the plainest discovery of their state, I am the
man! or acknowledge, that, if they die in their present condition, they are
undone for ever! But when they suddenly find themselves in the land of darkness,
feel themselves in scorching flames, and see they are shut out of the presence
of God for ever; then the application of God's anger to themselves will be the
easiest matter in the world; they will then roar out these forced confessions,
"O my misery! O my folly! O my inconceivable, irrecoverable loss!"
4. Then will their affections likewise be more lively, and no longer stupified.
A hard heart now makes heaven and hell seem but trifles. We have showed them
everlasting glory and misery, and they are as men asleep; our words are as
stones cast against a wall, which fly back in our faces. We talk of terrible
things, but it is to dead men; we search the wounds, but they never feel it; we
speak to rocks rather than to men; the earth will as soon tremble as they. But
when these dead souls are revived, what passionate sensibility, what working
affections, what pangs of horror, what depths of sorrow will there then be! How
violently will they denounce and reproach themselves! How will they rage against
their former madness! The lamentations of the most affectionate wife for the
loss of her husband, or of the tenderest mother for the loss of her children,
will be no thing to theirs for the loss of heaven. O the self-accusing and
self-tormenting fury of those forlorn creatures! How will they even tear their
own hearts, and be God's executioners upon themselves! As themselves were the
only meritorious cause of their sufferings, so themselves will be the chief
executioners. Even Satan, as he was not so great a cause of their sinning as
themselves, will not be so great an instrument of their torment. How happy would
they think themselves then, if they were turned into rocks, or any thing that
had neither passion nor sense! How happy, if they could then feel as lightly as
they were wont to hear! if they could sleep out the time of execution as they
did the time of the sermons that warned them of it! But their stupidity is gone:
it will not be.
5. Their memories will moreover be as large and strong as their understanding
and affections. Could they but lose the use of their memory, their loss of
heaven, being forgot, would little trouble them. Though they would account
annihilation a great mercy, they cannot lay aside any part of their being.
Understanding, conscience, affections, memory, must all live to torment them,
which should have helped to their happiness. As by these they should have fed
upon the love of God, and drawn forth perpetually the joys of his presence, so
by these must they feed upon his wrath, and draw forth continually the pains of
his absence. Now they have no leisure to consider, nor any room in their
memories for the things of another life; but then they shall have nothing else
to do; their memories shall have no other employment. God would have had the
doctrine of their eternal state "written on the posts of their doors, on their
hands and hearts:" he would have them mind it, "and mention it when they lay
down and rose up, when they sat in their houses, and when they walked by the
way," and seeing they rejected this counsel of the Lord, therefore it shall be
written always before them in the place of their thraldom, that, which way
soever they look, they may still behold it. It will torment them to think of the
greatness of the glory they have lost. If it had been what they could have
spared, or a loss to be repaired with any thing else, it had been a smaller
matter. If it had been health, or wealth, or friends, or life, it had been
nothing. But, O! to lose that exceeding and eternal weight of glory! It will
also torment them to think of the possibility they once had of obtaining it.
Then they will remember, "Time was, when I was as fair for the kingdom as
others. I was set upon the stage of the world; if I had believed in Christ I
might now have had possession of the inheritance. I who am now tormented with
these damned fiends, might have been among yonder blessed saints. The Lord did
set before me life and death; and having chosen death, I deserve to suffer it.
The prize was held out before me if I had run well, I might have obtained it if
I had striven, I might have had the victory if I had fought valiantly, I had
been crowned." It will yet more torment them to remember that their obtaining
the crown was not only possible, but very probable. It will wound them to think,
"I had once the gales of the Spirit ready to have assisted me. I was proposing
to be another man, to have cleaved to Christ, and forsake the world. I was
almost resolved to have been wholly for God. I was once even turning from my
base seducing lusts. I had cast off my old companions, and was associating with
the godly. Yet I turned back, lost my hold, and broke my promises. I was almost
persuaded to be a real Christian, yet I conquered those persuasions. What
workings were in my heart when a faithful minister pressed home the truth! O how
fair was I once for heaven! I almost had it, and yet I have lost it. Had I
followed on to seek the Lord, I had now been blessed among the saints."
It will exceedingly torment them to remember their lost opportunities. "How many
weeks, and months, and years did I lose, which if I had improved, I might now
have been happy! Wretch that I was! could I find no time to study the work for
which I had all my time? no time, among all my labors, to labor for eternity?
Had I time to eat, and drink, and sleep, and none to save my soul? Had I time
for mirth and vain discourse, and none for prayer? Could I take time to secure
the world, and none to try my title to heaven? O precious time! I had once
enough, and now I must have no more. I had once so much I knew not what to do
with it; and now it is gone, and cannot be recalled. O that I had but one of
those years to live over again! how speedily would I repent! How earnestly would
I pray! how diligently would I hear! how closely would I examine my state! how
strictly would I live! But it is now too late, alas! too late."
It will add to their calamity to remember how often they were persuaded to
return. "Fain would the minister have had me escape these torments. With what
love and compassion did he beseech me! and yet I did but make a jest of it. How
oft did he convince me! and yet I stifled all these convictions. How did he open
to me my very heart! and yet I was loth to know the worst of myself. O how glad
would he have been if he could have seen me cordially turn to Christ! My godly
friends admonished me; they told me what would become of my wilfulness and
negligence at last; but I neither believed nor regarded them. How long did God
himself condescend to entreat me! How did the Spirit strive with my heart, as if
he was loth to take a denial! How did Christ stand knocking, one Sabbath after
another, and crying to me. 'Open, sinner, open thy heart to thy Savior, and I
will come in and sup with thee, and thou with me! Why dost thou delay? How long
shall thy vain thoughts lodge within thee? Wilt thou not be pardoned and
sanctified, and made happy? When shall it once be?' O how the recollection of
such divine pleadings will passionately transport the damned with
self-indignation! "Must I tire out the patience of Christ? Must I make the God
of heaven follow me in vain, till I have wearied him with crying to me, Repent!
return! O how justly is that patience now turned into fury which falls upon me
with irresistable violence! When the Lord cried to me, 'Wilt thou not be made
clean? When shall it once be?' my heart, or at least my practice answered,
'Never.' And now, when I cry, 'How long shall it be till I am freed from this
torment? how justly do I receive the same answer, 'Never, never!'"
It will also be most cutting to remember on what easy terms they might have
escaped their misery. Their work was not to remove mountains, nor conquer
kingdoms, nor fulfil the law to the smallest tittle, nor satisfy justice for all
their transgressions. "The yoke was easy and the burden light" which Christ
would have laid upon them. It was but to repent and cordially accept him for
their Savior; to renounce all other happiness, and take the Lord for their
supreme good; to renounce the world and the flesh, and submit to his meek and
gracious government and to forsake the ways of their own devising, and walk in
his holy, delightful way. "Ah," thinks the poor tormented wretch, "how justly do
I suffer all this, who would not be at so small pains to avoid it! Where was my
understanding when I neglected that gracious offer; when I called 'the Lord a
hard master,' and thought his pleasant service a bondage, and the service of the
devil and the flesh the only freedom? Was I not a thousand times worse than mad,
when I censured the holy way of God as needless preciseness; when I thought the
laws of Christ too strict, and all too much that I did for the life to come?
What would all sufferings for Christ and welldoing have been, compared with
these sufferings that I must undergo for ever? Would not the heaven, which I
have lost, have recompensed all my losses? And would not all my sufferings have
been there forgotten? What if Christ had bid me to do some great matter; whether
to live in continual fears and sorrows, or to suffer death a hundred times over:
should I not have done it? How much more, when he only said, 'Believe and be
saved. Seek my face, and thy soul shall live. Take up thy cross and follow me,
and I will give thee everlasting life.' O gracious offer! O easy terms! O cursed
wretch, that would not be persuaded to accept them!"
This also will be a most tormenting consideration, to remember for what they
sold their eternal welfare. When they compare the value of the pleasures of sin
with the value of "the recompense of reward," how will the vast disproportion
astonish them! To think of the low delights of the flesh, or the applauding
breath of mortals, or the possessing heaps of gold,--and then to think of
everlasting glory. "This is all I had for my soul, my God, my hopes of
blessedness!" It cannot possibly be expressed how these thoughts will tear his
very heart. Then will he exclaim against his folly: "O miserable wretch! Did I
set my soul to sale for so base a price? Did I part with my God for a little
dirt and dross; and sell my Savior, as Judas, for a little silver? I had but a
dream of delight for my hopes of heaven; and, now I am awakened, it is all
vanished. My morsels are now turned to gall, and my cups to wormwood. When they
were past my taste, the pleasure perished. And is this all that I have had for
the inestimable treasure? What a mad exchange did I make! What if I had gained
all the world, and lost my soul! But, alas! how small a profit of the world was
it for which I gave up heaven!" O that sinners would think of this when they are
swimming in the delights of the flesh, and studying how to be rich and honorable
in the world! when they are desperately venturing up on known transgression, and
sinning against the checks of conscience!
It will add yet more to their torment, when they consider that they most
wilfully procured their own destruction. Had they been forced to sin, it would
much abate the rage of their consciences; or if they were punished for another
man's transgressions or any other had been the chief author of their ruin. But
to think it was the choice of their own will, and that none in the world could
have forced them to sin against their wills: this will be a cutting thought.
"Had I not enemies enough in the world," thinks this miserable creature, "but I
must be an enemy to myself? God would never give the devil, nor the world, so
much power over me as to force me to commit the least transgression. They could
but entice: it was myself that yielded and did the evil. And must I lay hands
upon my own soul, and imbrue my hands in my own blood? Never had I so great an
enemy as myself. Never did God offer any good to my soul but I resisted him. He
hath heaped mercy upon me, and renewed one deliverance after another, to draw my
heart to him; yea, he hath gently chastised me, and made me groan under the
fruit of my disobedience; and though I promised largely in my affliction, yet
never was I heartily willing to serve him." Thus will it gnaw the hearts of
these sinners, to remember that they were the cause of their own ruin; and that
they wilfully and obstinately persisted in their rebellion and were mere
volunteers in the service of the devil.
The wound in their consciences will be yet deeper, when they shall not only
remember it was their own doing, but that they were at so much cost and pains
for their own damnation. What great undertakings did they engage in to effect
their ruin; to resist the Spirit of God; to overcome the power of mercies,
judgments, and even the word of God; to subdue the power of reason and silence
conscience! All this they undertook and performed. Though they walked in
continual danger of the wrath of God, and knew he could lay them in the dust,
and cast them into hell in a moment; yet would they run upon all this. O the
labor it costs sinners to be damned! Sobriety, with health and ease, they might
have had at a cheaper rate; yet they will rather have gluttony and drunkenness,
with poverty, shame, and sickness. Contentment they might have, with ease and
delight; yet they will rather have covetousness and ambition, though it costs
them cares and fears, labor of body and distraction of mind. Though their anger
be self-torment, and revenge and envy consume their spirits; though uncleanness
destroy their bodies, estates, and good names; yet will they do and suffer all
this, rather than suffer their souls to be saved. With what rage will they
lament their folly, and say, "Was damnation worth all this cost and pains? Might
I not have been damned on free cost, but I must purchase it so dearly? I thought
I could have been saved without so much ado, and could I not have been destroyed
without so much ado? Must I so laboriously work out my own damnation, when God
commanded me to 'work out my own salvation?' If I had done as much for heaven as
I did for hell, I had surely had it. I cried out of the tedious way of
godliness, and the painful course of self-denial; and yet I could be at a great
deal more pains for Satan and for death. Had I loved Christ as strongly as I did
my pleasures, and profits, and honors; and thought on him as often, and sought
him as painfully, O how happy had I now been! How justly do I suffer the flames
of hell for buying them so dear, rather than have heaven, when it was purchased
to my hands!"
O that God would persuade thee, reader, to take up these thoughts now, for
preventing the inconceivable calamity of taking them up in hell as thy own
tormentor! Say not that they are only imaginary. Read what Dives thought, being
in torments. As the joys of heaven are chiefly enjoyed by the rational soul in
its rational actings, so must the pains of hell be suffered. As they will be men
still, so will they feel and act as men.
