# Our New Departure (Brooks)/Chapter 3

The first condition of a religious life is a right sense of God, and an awakening of the heart towards Him; and in its very essence, Universalism presents God in such aspects and relations as cannot fail to touch any heart, if fittingly enforced and duly reflected upon. In respect to God, therefore, we need to take no new departure except—1. Perhaps, to make our exposition of Him less exclusively intellectual, for purposes of mere argument, and more directly and personally an appeal to conscience and the affections, as a means of spiritual influence; and, especially, 2. To discriminate more closely in our ideas of His goodness, so as more distinctly to include the fact of His severity as well as His kindness. What is implied in the first of these specifications is being so anticipated in the current drift of our church-life, and will, besides, in so many ways run through these pages, that it is not necessary here to dwell upon it; but the second is on every account so important as to be entitled to a prominent place in this general discussion.
Reading the report of a lecture on Abyssinia, some time ago, I was much struck with the following sentences, and particularly with the statements here italicized: "The Abyssinians, though zealous observers of fast-days, which make up nearly one third of the year, are nevertheless a very intemperate people, and many diseases are to be attributed solely to their excesses. The practical doctrines which they derive from Christianity seem to be that there is no limit to the mercy of the Almighty, and that, as life is short and pleasure fleeting, it is desirable to seize every opportunity for enjoyment. Acting on this plausible theory, they eat more raw meat, drink more mead, or small beer, commit more breaches of the moral ​law, and particularly of the seventh commandment, than any other Christians, in Christendom or out of it." The lecturer was represented to be an Abyssinian traveller; and assuming that the statements are reliable, they signally illustrate how the doctrine of God's illimitable mercy may be so unqualifiedly, and therefore falsely, held as to become an occasion of license rather than a motive to holiness. Our great doctrine of God's goodness has probably never been subject to any such extreme perversion; but is it too much to say that there have been approaches to some such misapprehension of it?
One of the seed-errors of 'orthodoxy' is, that it so tears the justice of God from its relations, and so exaggerates its proportions and demands, as to make it an infinite malignity; and in the earnestness of our protest against this, we have almost unconsciously been carried towards the other extreme. As the result, we have,—not exaggerated God's love, for infinite Love cannot be exaggerated, but have, to some extent, failed to keep duly in mind its qualifying attributes and the various methods it employs. A somewhat too rose-colored and sentimental view of God's character has been the consequence—as if His goodness were only an easy and infinite good-nature, a boundless and all-approving complacency, overlooking all distinctions of character,—an invincible and invariable indulgence, too tender to be rigorous, too loving to be stern and terrible. To this, rather than to any mere emphasis we have given to God's love, is due, it is believed, the wide-spread impressions—1. That, as distinguished authority has recently expressed it, Universalism is simply "an outgrowth of the diseased sentimentalism of the period,"—"the exaggeration, or, perhaps, the perversion of philanthropy," sure, "if severely left alone," to "run to seed after a little," as this "diseased sentimentalism" shall be cured by the access of a little more common sense; and 2. That Universalism is of course impeached, and Universalists necessarily unhorsed, if God's punitive justice is proved, or if anything but this easy and infinite good-nature is attributed to Him.
All such impressions, whether existing as one-sided conceptions of the truth, among ourselves, or as grounds of ob​jection against us, among others, we must, if we are to administer the Gospel more effectively for religious ends, studiously correct, careful in the mean time to give no further justification for them. Dr. Ballou, of blessed memory, left a brief paper on this topic, not very familiar, I imagine, even to Universalist readers, but one of the best products of his wise and thoughtful mind. Let me invoke the authority of his name, and the vigor and discrimination of his pen, to set forth, so much better than I can, the view of the subject which should hereafter give character to our thinking and labor. He first deals briefly with the philosophy of criminal reform; and though it does not directly treat of the love of God, what he thus writes serves so important a purpose as an introduction to what follows, that it should not be omitted. He says,—
   "It appears to us that any general system of measures for the reform of the vicious, or for the correction of the criminal, must prove futile in the end, unless it provide for the use of sharp, and sometimes terrible, severity. If we attempt to get wholly rid of this unwelcome agent in the work of human discipline, and rely exclusively on forbearance, inoffensive gentleness, and the attraction of sympathy, to effect the purpose, we shall find that they soon lose their power; when taken thus alone, they will at length exert even an injurious, because enervating, influence on the public. Human nature is such that, in order to acquire consistency and strength, it needs a great amount of hardship mingled in with its more pleasant experiences; just as we need the immense pressure of the atmosphere to stimulate the functions of animal life, or as the universal order of physical nature depends on the nice adjustment of repulsion and attraction. How would it do to dispense with either of these? In the existing state of human society, together with the arrangements of Divine Providence, there are indeed many instances of a wonderful reform of individuals effected by the exhibition of gentle persuasion alone; but, even in these instances, it is because there is already furnished a dark background of suffering, or of conscious danger, to contribute its part towards the result, and to give the gentler element a chance to penetrate the heart. Shut up the criminal in a gloomy prison, under the ban of the world, or let him anxiously fear this doom; let the general order of things be such that the vicious man shall feel that he is under the stern censure of the community in which he lives, that he has by his own fault lost the respect and fellowship for which his social nature yearns, that he has wickedly ruined his health or his business; or let him be harassed by apprehensions of these results; let the sinner be oppressed with guilt and with the consciousness of self-desolation; and then the voice of individual sympathy and encouragement may indeed come home to him with a di​vine power, because his previous discipline, together with his present environment, has driven him to appreciate it. But how, if he had never been subjected to such unwelcome discipline? Suppose that a mistaken philanthropy were to bring about such a state of things, that criminality should at once secure to the offender, not the ban of the world, nor the repelling censure of society, but universal sympathy, a tender, patronizing assiduity, and that all sin were to be treated simply as a misfortune, till the very sense of guilt should thus be allayed as far as possible in the sinner's own petted conscience; suppose that the element of stern penal justice should be exorcised from society, and the work of human discipline be carried on, from first to last, by soothing processes only; it is easy to see that, in this case, the gentleness would lose all its efficacy. There would need a background of severity as its complement.
   "It may be well to consider the relations of the subject to the doctrine, that the spirit, in which God made and governs the world, is infinite goodness, and that the manifestation of this goodness is the means recognized by the Gospel for reconciling mankind to their Maker. Should it be asked, whether the principles we have illustrated be not inconsistent with this doctrine, we should answer, Yes, if the goodness of God were simply complacency, or were it never exhibited under any other form than that of tenderness. Here is a point on which, we think, there is want of discrimination, with many, in assuming their premises. They seem to forget the other forms in which this divine perfection is manifested. Now, we have only to look out into Nature, or into the actual course of Providence, to see the different aspects in which it appears. God created the world in infinite goodness; He always deals with us in infinite goodness; and if we but observe how He has constructed His creation, and how He administers His government, we shall see how, as matter of fact, His goodness operates.
   "How, then, does it appear in Nature? Not exclusively in the form of gentleness. There is the terrible earthquake that strikes all hearts with mortal fear, and that sinks whole cities into a yawning gulf, crushing thousands under falling ruins and in the opening jaws of the earth. There is the raging hurricane that sweeps its path of desolation; the howling storm that buries the trembling, praying, and exhausted seamen in the bosom of the deep; there is the thunderbolt that smites down the unwarned victim. The solid globe itself is made of millions of impracticable granite and rock to one of fertile soil; and it is the law proclaimed by Nature, as well as by Revelation, that man shall toil and suffer till he returns to the dust. God brings sickness upon us, and we linger through months and years of excruciating pain. He sends disappointment into our long-cherished schemes, and a blight into our fondest affections. Though we pray Him to avert the blow, and struggle in desperation to turn aside His descending rod, it is often in vain; He strikes home into our little circle of joys, and leaves us heartbroken. If we sin, He follows us with the punishment as stanch as death; if we involve ourselves in ruin, He lets us take the consequences of our folly or wickedness, without sparing. Now, all ​this is but the manifestation of His goodness, for He always acts from the same unchanged principle, how different soever the outward dispensations. 'God is love;' but to us His love is as awful, in some of its workings, as it is pleasant in others. These, let it be remarked, are known facts, which it will not do to ignore.
   "We must add that the Scriptures also represent His goodness in the same two-fold light. We sometimes hear language which seems to imply that the thought of God ought not to be associated with anything like severity or terrible infliction; that nothing, indeed, but ideas of the most fond and tender nature ought to enter into our conceptions of Him. This, however, is not the teaching of facts, as has been seen; and certainly it is not the presentation which we find in the Bible. According to the writers of the New Testament, God, who 'is love,' is at the same time, 'a consuming fire,' and 'it is a fearful thing to fall into His hands,' that is, for punishment. While they 'beseech us by the mercies of God,' they also admonish us in language intended to alarm, like the following: 'Despiseth thou the riches of His goodness, and forbearance, and long-suffering; not knowing that the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance; but, after thy hardness and impenitent heart, treasurest up to thyself wrath against the day of wrath, and revelation of the righteous judgment of God?' Goodness, manifesting itself in the most fearful judgments, as well as in gentle aspects,—this is the view which the writers of the New Testament, when read continuously, present us of the subject; and we cannot but see that, in this, they perfectly agree with the facts of Nature and Providence. It is unquestionably the right view.
   "There is a fanciful assumption that has been sometimes taken, with respect to the Bible, and dilated in various forms, namely, that the Old Testament speaks only in tones of sternness and dread, and describes God only as an object of terror, implacable, taking vengeance on His foes; while, on the other hand, the New Testament discards everything of the kind, and is all gentleness, seeking only to win. We suppose that this account of the matter can have been intended only for a fancy sketch; though it is questionable whether good taste will allow, even in a fancy sketch, so obvious a departure from the known facts in the case. Notwithstanding that the Gospel gives the fuller revelation of the character and purposes of God, yet the same principles are recognized by both parts of the Bible, we mean so far as they go. The New Testament abounds in ideas as terrible as any that we meet with in the Old, though the greater refinement of the later age may have softened, in some degree, the dress in which they are clothed. And, on the other hand, the Old Testament often speaks the language of that noted text in the Psalms, 'The Lord is good unto all, and His tender mercies are over all His works.' What can be more dreadful than those words of our Saviour, referring to the destruction of the Jewish nation, 'Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels'? or that passage of St. Paul, with respect to the same event, 'The Lord Jesus shall be revealed from heaven, with his mighty angels, taking vengeance on them ​that know not God, and that obey not the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ; who shall be punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of his power'? What can be more tender and encouraging than the words of the prophet, 'Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yea, they may forget, yet will not I forget thee!' Either Testament would be altogether one-sided, and therefore practically false, did it aim only to soothe and console, or only to terrify and repress.
   "Perhaps it will now be said, according, then, to these views, God is good but in part, and He is, in part, otherwise. No, this is not the proper conclusion, nor is it the doctrine of the Scriptures. 'God is love;' He is wholly good in every act and in every purpose. But the important truth on which we would fix attention, and which embraces all we have said on the subject, is this: that His goodness works by severity as well as by indulgence. All true goodness operates in this way. It is not goodness, it is a mischievous dotage, which is so weakly tender that it cannot employ harsh and even terrible methods when occasion demands. In such cases, it always does harm whether it attempt to govern on the broad theatre of a nation, or in the narrower circle of a community, school, family, or individual,—in civil, or in moral and religious affairs. Wherever human nature is to be dealt with, in the present existence, we can see that the removal of all grounds of fear, or of painful necessity, would at length prove an evil incomparably greater than any which we now encounter; it would be like dissolving the spheres by abrogating the law of repulsion as the complement to that of attraction."
These are weighty and momentous words. As thus expounded, Universalism will hardly be thought by anybody to give signs of 'diseased sentimentalism,' or of being 'the exaggeration or perversion of philanthropy;' and upon the basis of these facts and principles, it can alone be made most potent for the work of human redemption. It is undeniable that so the Bible holds and sets forth the goodness of God. Can we improve upon its method?
There is another view of the subject, too, which must not be overlooked—a view very clearly involved, indeed, as Dr. Ballou puts the case, but that has not hitherto received the recognition to which its importance entitles it. The goodness of God, in its very nature, is unappeasable, unrelenting, in its demands. A love less determined and enduring would tire in the work of human recovery, abandoning the obdurate and impenitent to themselves. But His love is inexorable, unconquerable. It never will let go, steadily ​pursuing its purpose to bring all souls into harmony with itself, however benumbed or obstinate any may be, through whatever terrible furnaces of penalty and pain it may become necessary to lead them.
Better than any dogmatic statement or argumentation, on this point, are the words of George McDonald, in Robert Falconer's talk with his poor, weak, lost father,—words that none of us would accept as to precise form, perhaps, but that in spirit are not only richly suggestive concerning this persistent, consuming love of God, but also as to the moral inertness which is one of the chief hinderances in the way of the confirmed sinner's return:—
   "'Father,' repeated Robert, 'you've got to repent, and God won't let you off, and you needn't think it. You'll have to repent some day.'
   "'In hell, Robert,' said Andrew. . . .
   "'Yes, either on earth or in hell. Would it not be better on earth?'
   "'But it will be no use in hell,' he murmured.
   "In those few words lay the germ of the preference for hell of poor souls, enfeebled by wickedness. They will not have to do anything there—only to moan and cry, and suffer forever—they think. It is effort, the outgoing of the living will, that they dread. The sorrow, the remorse of repentance, they do not so much regard. It is the action it involves; it is the having to turn, be different, and do differently, that they shrink from; and they have been taught to believe that this will not be required of them there, in that awful refuge of the will-less. I do not say they think thus; I only say their dim, vague, feeble feelings are such as, if they grew into thought, would take this form. But tell them that the fire of God without and within them will compel them to bethink themselves; that the vision of an open door beyond the smoke and the flames will ever urge them to call up the ice-bound will, that it may obey; that the torturing spirit of God in them will keep their consciences awake,—not to remind them of what they ought to have done, but to tell them what they must do now,—and hell will no longer fascinate them. Tell them that there is no refuge from the compelling love of God, save that love itself,—that He is in hell, too, and that, if they make their bed in hell, they shall not escape Him, and then, perhaps, they will have some true presentiment of 'the worm that dieth not, and the fire that is not quenched.'
   "'Father, it will be of use in hell,' said Robert; 'God will give you no rest even there.'"
​it may be held only for evil. Universalism, we must cause it to be everywhere understood, is no ministry of this truth in any such direction. It is a gospel of love, we must insist, but of no mere good-nature, of no sentimental laxity, that simply pities wrong-doing, and talks only in gentle and persuasive tones, and sprinkles its delicate perfumes, and dilutes God's administration into a reign of mere sympathetic indulgence, as if there were no such thing as sin to be punished, and no such severe and terrific facts as make up one side of God's appointments. His government has many sides and many instruments, we are to remember. The Bible talks of His wrath as well as of His love, because, in a mere natural view, His retributions seem to indicate displeasure. But though His love tempers and explains the expression as symbolic, it does not wholly explain away its significance as a symbol. There is always grave and sometimes fearful meaning in it; and any theory of God or His government which fails to recognize this meaning, and to give it due place, is so far one-sided, and to this extent false.
This, then, is the New Departure whereunto we are called in this particular. God's words to us include 'Woe!' as well as 'Blessed!' We are summoned henceforth more discriminatingly to enforce both, availing ourselves, as some have always done, of all the grounds of appeal thus furnished; only bearing constantly in mind, and never failing duly to emphasize, the fact that, however God may deal with us, He is our Father, perpetually true to a Father's name and obligations, and, even amidst His severest inflictions, however relentlessly, still always beneficently seeking our welfare. In a word, the Goodness of God must so take form in our thought, and so be presented to others, as to lead alike us and them up to His throne, to adore that marvellous Love, and that infinite, unwearied, inflexible Patience, which, numbering the very hairs of our heads, clings to us, watches over us, pleads with us, punishes us as we deserve, disciplines us as we need, and, through whatever terrible paths of sorrow or of suffering He may lead us, never lets us go, and never will let us go, till, availing ourselves of His helps, and responding to His appeals, we all come home, to fulfil His purpose, and find our peace in harmony with Him forever.
* ↑ By E. Hepple Hall, before the Traveller's Club, New York City.
* ↑ Universalist Quarterly, vol. vii. pp. 286–290.
* ↑ Pp. 493, 494.
* ↑ As these pages are about leaving my hands for the printer's, our papers give us the admirable sermon of Rev. J. M. Pullman, before the Convention at Washington, in which, with others, both these points made by McDonald are strongly presented. "Love," says Mr. Pullman, "is changeless; it is inexorable. Forever and ever, in any world, under any and every circumstance, it must pursue its objects till its continual desire respecting them is accomplished. . . . God has punished you. While He has seemed in so doing to be devoid of pity, . . . there has always been the alternative of repentance and reconciliation. . . . The possibility of reunion has never been closed." He well says, too, that this doctrine of God's pursuing and inexorable love furnishes "the true terror" for the sinful. "To the awakened mind, God's promise that it shall be restored to virtue comes to bless; but to the unawakened heart that promise comes as a threat, and there can be no terror in all the world so awful as that which comes when one is made to feel that his darling sin . . . is to be withdrawn. . . . Let the dungeons of the prison and the lunatic asylum, let the walls that have echoed with horrible shrieks, let the ears that have become hardened with such cries, tell us what they know of the terrors of restoration. Then shall we understand that it is no holiday matter, that it is nothing for us to throw ourselves laughingly upon, that God has issued His decree that He will at last have all souls redeemed, and brought back pure into His kingdom." And, commenting upon this sermon, the Christian Leader well says: "We get down to the core of our theology when we recognize that the love of God is inexorable. As the preacher pertinently put it, the Divine Love is a consuming fire. . . . The statement that God will by no means clear the guilty is only half understood until it is construed to mean that He will by no means permit him to remain in his guilt. The most momentous truth of revelation is that no soul can escape the decree which has ordained that it shall be holy, harmless, undefiled. And what an irresistible power is in this searching truth! Once get it fairly before the minds of men that there is absolutely no escape from the decree that they shall be good, and how mightily will your appeal for purity, honor and righteousness move them! It is the delusion that there is some way out of this inflexible grasp of Immortal Love that permits the vain artifices to which men so generally resort. Universalism teaches that there is no escape from the purpose of God to have all men saved and come unto the knowledge of the truth. It thus teaches what the saintly Henry Scougal felt when he exclaimed, 'To go anywhere wrong is to run against the love of God, which every way circumvents us and drives us back.'" So the New Departure has, in this respect, begun.