What It Is to Depart, and to Be with Christ
Having proved that faith and hope have a certain future happiness to expect, the text directs me next to consider, what it is to he with Christ; and, what it is to depart, in order to he with him.
I. To he with Christ, includes presence with him, union to him, and participation of his happiness.
1. The presence of Christ, which pious separate spirits shall enjoy, must refer to his Godhead as well as to his human soul and hody. “We shall he present with the divine nature of Christ, as manifested in and by his glory. He teaches us to pray, “Our Father, which art in heaven,” because in heaven the Father gloriously shines forth to holy souls. The soul of man is eminently said to be in the head, because there it understands and reasons; and not in the foot or hand, though it be also there.
As we look a man in the face when wre talk to him, so we look up to heaven when we pray to God. Though “in God wre live, and move, and have our being,” both as the God of nature and grace, yet by the works and splendor of his glory he is eminently in heaven, manifesting himself there by some created glory; for his essence is the same everywhere. We shall be present with the human nature of Christ, both soul and body. But here our present narrow thoughts must not too boldly presume to determine the difference between Christ’s glorified body, and his flesh upon earth; nor where his glorified body is, nor how far it extends; nor wherein his soul and his glorified body differ, seeing it is called a spiritual body. We can conceive no more of such a body than that it is pure, incorruptible, invisible to mortal eyes, and fitted to the most perfect state of the soul. Nor need we wonder how a whole world of glorified bodies can all of them be present with the one body of Christ; for as the solar beams are so present with the air that none can discern the difference of the places wrhich they possess, and a world of bodies are present with them both; so may all our bodies, without any confusion, be present with Christ’s body.
2. The union to Christ which pious separate spirits shall also enjoy, must be like that of subjects to their king; but how much more we know not. The more spiritual, pure, and noble any natures are, the more inclination they have to union. Such instances of union as the vine and branches, the head and members, are of extensive import; yet being but similitudes, we cannot determine how extensive. Far be it from us to think that Christ’s glorified body is of such an earthly composition, and of such a limited extent, as it was here; for then, as his disciples and a few more were present with him, while the rest of the world were absent and had none of his company, so it would be in heaven. But all true believers, from the creation to the end of the world, as well as a Paul, shall “be with Christ, and see his glory.” And though there will be different degrees of glory, as there have been of holiness, yet none in heaven are at such a distance from Christ as not to enjoy the felicity of his presence.
3. “We shall also have communion with the divine and human natures of Christ; both which shall be the felicitating objects of perfect knowledge and holy love to the separate spirits, before the resurrection. The chief part of this communion will consist in Christ’s communications to the soul. As the whole creation is more dependent on God than the fruit on the tree, or plant on the earth, or the members on the body, so God uses second causes in his communications to inferior natures; and it is more than probable that Christ’s human nature is the second cause of communicating both grace and glory, both to man in the body and to the separate soul. As the sun is both the cause and object of sight to the eye, so is Christ to the soul. For as God, so the Lamb is the light and glory of the heavenly Jerusalem, and in his light they shall have light. Though Christ shall give up the kingdom to the Father, so that God may be “all in all,” and his creatures be fully restored to his favor, and a healing government for recovering lapsed souls to God shall be no more needed; yet surely he will not cease to be our
Mediator, the church’s head, and the channel of everlasting light, life, and love to all his members. As “we now live because he lives,” like the tranches in the vine; and as the Spirit that now quickens, enlightens, and sanctifies us, is first the Spirit of Christ before it is ours, and is communicated from God through him to us; so will it be in the state of glory: there our union and communion with him will be perfected, and not destroyed or diminished. As it would be arrogance to think we shall be above the need and use of Christ and his communications; so, I doubt not, we shall ever have use for one another, as is plainly intimated by “sitting down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of God;” by being “in Abraham’s bosom;” by “sitting at Christ’s right and left hand in his kingdom;” by being “made ruler over ten cities;” and by joining with those that “sing the song of Moses and of the Lamb.”
And certainly if I be “with Christ,” I shall be with all them that are with Christ, even with all the heavenly society. Our mortal bodies must have so much room, that the earth is little enough for all its inhabitants, bo nari row is our capacity of communion here, that those of the antipodes, or on the opposite side of the earth, are almost as strange to us as if they were in another wrorld. “What strangers are we to those of another kingdom, county, or parish, and even of another house. But we have great cause to think, by many scriptural expressions, that our heavenly union and communion will be nearer and more extensive, and that ail the glorified shall know each other. It is, I confess, a pleasant thought to me, and greatly helps my willingness to die, to think that I shall go to all the holy ones, both Christ and angels and pious separate spirits. They are each of them better and more amiable than I am. Many are better than one, and the perfect whole than a sinful part, and the new Jerusalem is the glory of the creation. God has given me & love to all that are holy, for their holiness; and a love to the work of love and praise, which they continually and perfectly perform; and a love to his celestial habitation, to his glory shining there. My old acquaintance with many a holy person gone to Christ, makes my thoughts of heaven the more familiar to me. 0 how many of them could I name! And it is* no small encouragement to one that is to enter upon an unseen world, to think that he goes no untrodden path, nor enters into a solitary or singular state, but follows all that from the creation to this day have passed by death into endless life. 0 how emboldening to consider that I am to go the same way, and to the same place and state, with all the believers and saints that have ever gone before me!
II. But I must depart before I can thus “be with Christ.” I must, particularly, depart from this body, from all its former delights, and also from more rational pleasures belonging to the present life and world.
1. I must depart from this body. Here these eyes must see no more, this hand move no more, these feet walk no more, this tongue speak no more. As much as I have loved, and overloved this body, I must leave it to the grave. There must it lie and rot in darkness, as a neglected and loathsome thing. This is the fruit of sin, and nature would not have it so.
But it is only my shell, my tabernacle, my clothing, and not my soul itself. It is only a dissolution — earth to earth. It is but an instrument laid by, when all its work is done — a servant dismissed, when his service is ended; as I cast by my lute when I have better employment. It is but as flowers die in autumn, and plants in winter. It is but a separation from a troublesome companion, and putting off a shoe that pinched me. Many a sad and painful hour, many a weary night and day, have I had. What cares and fears, what griefs and groans, has this body cost me! Alas, how much of my precious time has been spent to maintain, please, or repair it! Often have I thought that it cost me so dear to live, yea, to live a painful, weary life, that were it not for the higher ends of life, I had little reason to be much in love with it, or be loath to leave it. To depart from such a body, is but to remove from a sordid habitation. I know it is the curious, wonderful work of Grod, and not to be despised or unjustly dishonored, but admired and well used; yet our reason wTonders that so noble a spirit should be so meanly housed, foi we must call it “our vile body.” To depart from such a body, is but to be “loosed from the bondage of corruption,” from the clog and prison of the soul. That body, which was a fit servant to the soul of innocent man, is now become as a prison. And further, to depart from such a body, is but to be separated from an accidental enemy, and one of our greatest and most hurtful enemies; not, indeed, as the work of our Creator, but as the effect of sin. What could Satan, or any other enemy of our souls, have done against us without our flesh? “What is it but the interest of this body that stands in competition with the interest of God and our souls? What else do the profane sell their heavenly inheritance for, as Esau his birthright? What else is the bait of ambition, covetousness, and sensuality? What takes up the thoughts and cares which we should lay out upon things spiritual and heavenly, but this body and its life? What steals away men’s hearts from the heavenly pleasures of faith, hope, and love, but the pleasures of this flesh? This draws us to sin, and hinders us from and in our duty. Were it not for bodily interests and temptations, how much more innocent and holy might I live. I should have nothing to care for, hut to please God and be pleased in him, were it not for the care of this bodily life. What employment should my will and love have but to delight in God, and love him and his interest, were it not for the love of the body and its concerns? By this the mind is darkened, the thoughts diverted, our wills corrupted, our heart and time alienated from God, our guilt increased, our heavenly desires and hopes destroyed; life is made unholy and uncomfortable, and death terrible. God and souls are separated, and eternal life is neglected and in danger of being utterly lost. I know that in all this the sinful soul is the chief cause and agent; but is not bodily inter-, est its temptation, bait, and end? Is not the body, and its life and pleasure, the chief alluring cause of all this sin and misery? And shall I take such a body to be better than heaven, or refuse to be loosed from so troublesome a yoke-fellow, and separated from so burdensome and dangerous a companion?
2. I must depart from all the former pleas-D. Thou-hts 5 ures of tins body. I must taste no more sweetness in meat or drink, in rest or action, or any such thing as now delights me. Houses and lands, goods and wealth must all be left; and the place where I live must know me no more. All I labored for, or took delight in, must be no more to me than if they had never been. But consider, 0 my soul, thy former pleasures are already past. Thou losest none of them by death, for they are all lost before, unless immortal grace has made them immortal by sanctifying them. All that death does to them is to prevent the repetition of them upon earth. Is not the pleasure which we lose by death common to every brute? Meat is as sweet to them, and ease as welcome, and appetite as vehement. “Why then should it seem hard to us to lose that, when God pleases, which we deprive the brutes of at our pleasure? If we are believers, we only exchange these delights of life for the greater delights of a life with Christ, a comfort which our fellow-creatures the brutes have not. Are not the pleasures of life usually imbittered with such pain that they seldom countervail the attending vanity and vexation? It is true, nature desires life under sufferings that are tolerable, rather than die; but that is not so much from the sensible pleasure of life, as from mere natural inclination to life which Grod has implanted in us. Do we not willingly interrupt these pleasures every night when we betake ourselves to sleep? To say that rest is my pleasure, is but to say that my daily labors and cares are so much greater than my waking pleasures, that I am glad to lay by both together. If we can thus be content every night to die, as it were, to all our waking pleasures, why should we be unwilling to die to them all at once? If they be forbidden pleasures which you are unwilling to leave, those must be left before you die, otherwise you had better never have been born. Every wise and godly man casts them off with detestation. Indeed, the same cause which makes men unwilling to live a holy life, has a great hand in making them unwilling to die — even because they are loath to leave the pleasures of sin. If the wicked be converted, he must be gluttonous and drunken no more; he must live in pride, vanity, worldly-mindedness, and sensual pleasures no more; and therefore he draws hack from a holy life as it were from death itself. But what is this to those who “have mortified the flesh with the affections and lusts?” Consider also that these forbidden pleasures are the great impediments both of our holiness and of our truest pleasures. One of the reasons why God forbids them, is because they hinder us from better; and if, for our own good, we must forsake them when we turn to God, we should therefore be the more willing to die, in order to be free from the danger of them, and especially since death will transmit us to infinitely greater pleasures.
3. I must also depart from the more rational pleasures which I have enjoyed in this body; as, for instance, from my present studies, which are delights far above those of sensual sinners. But let me consider: how small is our knowledge, compared with our ignorance; how little does the knowledge of the learned differ from the thoughts of a child. As trifles are the matter of childish knowledge, so artificial words and forms make up more of the learning of the world than is commonly understood. God and the life to come are little better known by the learned, and often much less, than by many of the unlearned. Of how little use is it to know what is contained in many hundred volumes that fill our libraries, and have given their authors the name of virtuosi — not for their having the virtue to live to Grod, or overcome temptations from the flesh and the world, and secure their everlasting hopes. Much of our reading and learning, alas, does us more harm than good. Many a precious hour is lost in them that should be employed in higher pursuits. To many, I fear, it is as unholy a pleasure as others take in thinking of lands and honors — only the more dangerous for being the less suspected. I know the knowledge of natural things is valuable, and may be sanctified, and made some way useful to my highest ends, and I would be at any expense to procure more. But I must earnestly pray, “May the Lord forgive me the hours that I have spent in reading things less profitable, for the sake of pleasing a mind that would fain know every thing, instead of spending them for the increase of holiness in myself and others.” Yet I must thankfully acknowledge to God, that “from my youth he taught me to begin with things of the greatest weight, and to refer most of my other studies thereto, and to spend my days under the motives of necessity and profit to myself, and those that were committed to me.” I would have men most relish that learning in their health which they will find sweetest in sickness, and when near to death. And alas, how expensive a vanity is this knowledge. Though it little differs from a pleasant dream, yet to attain a little excellence in it, how many laborious days and weeks must it cost us. “Much study is a weariness of the flesh, and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.” What painful diseases and loss of bodily ease and health has it occasioned me. What envy and opposition has it exposed me to. And should a man be loath to die for fear of leaving such troublesome, costly learning and knowledge? Let me especially consider that we shall certainly have a nobler, sweeter, and more extensive knowledge than is here attainable. Love never fails, and we can love no more than we know; u but prophecies shall fail; tongues shall cease; knowledge,” such as we now have, * ’ shall vani sh away. When
I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then shall I know, even as also I am known;” for though my knowledge will not be like that of the blessed God, it will be like that of holy spirits. In order for a physician to describe the disease of his patient, he needs much reading and close inquiry; and after all, he goes much upon conjectures, and his knowledge is mixed with many uncertainties and mistakes; but when he opens his corpse his knowledge is more full and true, and obtained with greater ease and speed. A countryman knows the town, fields, and rivers, plants, and animals where he dwells, with ease, perspicuity, and certainty, when mere geographical knowledge is liable to many mistakes. So the sight of God and heaven will deserve the name of wisdom, while our present glimpse is but philosophy or the love of wisdom. We should not, therefore, fear death for fear of losing our knowledge; but rather long for the world of glorious light, that we may get out of this darkness into easy, joyful, and satisfying knowledge.
Friendship is one of the more rational pleasures enjoyed in this body, and from which I must depart. He that believes not that there are far more and better friends in heaven than there are on earth, believes not, as he ought, that there is a heaven. Our friends here are wise, but they are also unwise. They are faithful, but partly unfaithful. They are holy, but alas, too sinful. They have the image of God, but it is blotted and dishonored by their faults! They do God and his church much service, but they also do too much for Satan even when they intend the honor of God. They promote the gospel; but they also hinder it by their weakness and ignorance, their selfishness, pride, and passion, their divisions and contentions. They are our helpers and comforters; but how often are they also our hinderance, trouble, and grief: in heaven they are perfectly wise and holy and faithful, and there is nothing in them, nor done by them, but what is amiable to God and man. With our faithful friends we have here a mixture of those that are useless and burdensome, or hypocritical and malicious. But in heaven there are none but the wise and holy; no hypocrites, no burdensome neighbors, no treacherous, oppressive, or persecuting enemies. Christ loved his disciples, his kindred, and all mankind, and took pleasure in doing good to all, and so did his apostles; but how poor a recompense had he or they from any but from God. Christ’s “brethren believed not on him.” Peter denied him. “All his disciples forsook him and fled.” And what then could be expected from others? No friends have a perfect suitableness to each other; and those inequalities that are nearest to us are most troublesome. So various and contrary are our apprehensions, interests, educations, our tempers, inclinations, and temptations, that instead of wondering at the discord and confusions of the world, we may rather admire the providence of Grod which maintains so much order and concord. The greatest crimes that have been charged upon me, have been those things which I thought to be my greatest duties; and for those parts of my obedience to Grod and my conscience which cost me dearest, and where I pleased my flesh least? I pleased the world least. And is this tumultuous, militant world a place that I should be loath to leave?
I must depart from all the means of grace, though more precious to me than all earthly enjoyments. Shall I love the name of heaven better than heaven itself? Is not the possession of glory better than the promise of it? If a light and guide through the wilderness be good, surely the glorious end must be better. It hath pleased God that all things on earth, even the sacred Scriptures, should bear the marks of our state of imperfection. Imperfect persons were the penmen. Imperfect human language is the conveyance. Heaven will not, to perfect spirits, be made the occasion of so many errors and controversies as the Scriptures are to us imperfect mortals. Yea, heaven is the more desirable, because there I shall better understand the Scriptures than here I can ever hope to do. To leave my Bible, and to go to the God and heaven which the Bible reveals, will be no otherwise my loss than to leave the picture for the presence of my friend. As for mere human writings and instructions, the pleasure of my mind is much abated by their great imperfection; and why should I think that my own are blameless? I must for ever be thankful for the holy instructions and writings of others, notwithstanding human frailty; and so must I be thankful that God hath made any use of my own for the good of souls and the edification of his church. But how many alloys are there to such comforts. If good men, and good books or sermons make the world seem over-lovely, it will be the mercy of Grod to abate the temptation. When we are dead to the love of the godly themselves, of learning, books, and ordinances, so far as they serve a selfish interest and tempt our hearts from heavenly aspirations, then indeed “the world is crucified to us, and we to it.”
Of all things, a departing soul has least cause to fear losing the knowledge of worldly affairs. If the sun gives light and heat to the earth, why should I think that blessed spirits have no acquaintance with earthly concerns? From the top of a hill I can see more than from below; and shall I know less of earth from heaven than I do now? It is unlikely that my capacity will be so little, or that Christ and all the angels will be so strange to me as to give me no notice of things so interesting to my God and Redeemer, to the holy society of which I am member, and to myself as a member of that society. Spirits are most active and of quick and powerful communication. They need not send letters nor write books, nor lift up a voice. And as activity, so unity is greatest where there is most perfection. Their knowledge, love, and joy will be one. My celestial advancement, therefore, will be no diminution, but an inconceivable increase of my desirable knowledge of things on earth. If, indeed, I shall know less of things below, it will be because the knowledge of them is a part of vanity and vexation, which have no place in heaven. I need not be afraid to hear any more of bloody wars, desolated countries, dissipated churches, persecuted Christians, silenced preachers, party conflicts, contentious divines, censorious professors of religion, with the cries of the poor, or the endless complaints of the melancholy.
Nor need I fear what other men are pleased to suggest, that the church will want me. Is it I, or God, that must choose his servants, and cut out their work? Am I doing God’s work, or my own? If God’s, must not he say what, and when, and how long? And will not his will and choice be best? If I believe not this, how do I take him for my God? Does God, or I, know best what is yet to be done, and who is fittest to do it? What am I to those more excellent persons whom in all ages God hath taken out -of the world? Have not many servants of Christ died in their youth, who were far more likely to win souls and glorify God than I am, or ever have been? And shall I, at seventy-six years of age, after such a life of unspeakable mercies, and after almost fifty-three years of comfortable help in the service of my Lord, be now afraid of my reward, and shrink at the sentence of death, and still be desirous to stay here, under pretence of further service? We know not what is best for the church, as God does. The church and the world are not ours, but his: not our desires, therefore, but his will must measure out its mercies. Nothing ever lay so heavy on my heart as the sin and misery of mankind, and to think how much of the world lies in folly and wickedness. And for what can I so heartily pray, as for the world’s recovery? And it is his will that I should show a holy and universal love by praying, “Let thy name be hallowed; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Yet, alas, how unlike is earth to heaven! “What sin and ignorance, confusion and cruelties, reign and prosper here! Without a wonderful change, even by a general miracle, how little hope appears that ever these prayers should be answered. Indeed, it makes us better to desire that others may be better; and God seems to permit the ignorance and confusion of this world, to help us the more to value and desire the world of light, love, and order. If I am any way useful to the world, undeserved mercy hath made me so, for which I must be thankful; how long I shall be so, is not my business to determine, but my Lord’s. As God will be served and pleased by a wonderful variety of animals and vegetables, so he will by their successive generations. If one flower fall or die, others in future summers shall arise from the same root. God will have other generations to succeed us; let us thank him that we have had our time. And could we without selfishness love others as ourselves, and God as God, it would comfort us at death to have others survive us, and the world continue, and God still be God, and be glorified in his works. Love would say, “I shall live in my successors; I shall more, than live in the life of the world; and most of all, in the eternal life and glory of God.” Nor will God try us with too long a life of temptations, lest we should grow too familiar where we should be strangers, and be utterly strangers to our home. No wonder the world was ready for a deluge, by a deluge of sin, when men lived six, seven, eight, or nine hundred years. Had our great sensualists any hope of living so long, they would be like incarnate devils; there would be no dwelling near them for the godly. Nor will God tire us with too long a life of afflictions. And shall we grudge at the wisdom and goodness which shortens them? Though holy duties be excellent and delightful, yet the weakness of the flesh makes us liable to weariness, and abates the willingness of the spirit. By our weariness and complaints, our fears and groans, we seem to think this life too long; and yet when we should yield to the call of Grod, we draw back as if we would have it to be everlasting.
““Willingly submit, then, 0 my soul. It is not thyself, but this flesh, that must be dissolved — this troublesome, vile, and corruptible flesh. Study thy duty, work while it is day, and let God choose thy time; and willingly stand to his disposal. When I die, the gospel dies not, the church dies not, the praises of Grod die not, the world ‘dies not; but perhaps it will grow better, and those prayers be answered which seemed to be lost; and perhaps some of the seed I have sown will spring up when I am dead. If my end was to do good and glorify Grod, when good is done and Grod is glorified, though I were annihilated, is not my end attained?” “Lord, let thy servant depart in peace,” even in thy peace, “which passeth all understanding,” and which Christ, the Prince of peace, gives, and which nothing in the world can take away.” 0 give me that peace which suits a soul who is so near the harbor, even the world of endless peace and love. Call home this soul by the encouraging voice of love, that it may joyfully hear, and say, It is my Father’s voice. Invite it to thee by the heavenly messenger. Attract it by the tokens and foretastes of love. The messengers that invited me to the feast of grace, compelled me to come in without constraint; thy effectual call made me willing. And is not glory better than the grace which prepares for it? Shall I not more willingly come to the celestial feast? What was thy grace for, but to make me desirous of glory and the way to it? Why didst thou dart down thy beams of love, but to make me love thee, to call me up to the everlasting centre? Was not the feast of grace as a sacrament of the feast of glory? Did I not take it in remembrance of my Lord till he come? Did not he that told me, ‘All things are ready,’ tell me also, that ‘He is gone to prepare a place for us, and that he will have us to be with him and see his glory?’ They that are given him, and drawn to him, by the Father on earth, do come to Christ; give nowr, and
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draw my departing soul to my glorified Head. As I have glorified thee on earth in the measure of thy grace bestowed upon me, pardon the sins by which I have offended thee, and glorify me in the vision and participation of my Redeemer’s glory. Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly, with fuller life and light and love, into this too dead and dark and disaffected soul, that with joyful willingness it may come unto thee.
“Willingly depart, 0 lingering soul: it is from a Sodom; though there be righteous Lots in it, they are not without their sad blemishes. Hast thou so often lamented the general blindness and wickedness of the world, and art thou loath to leave it for a better? How often wouldest thou have rejoiced to see but the dawning of a day of universal peace and reformation! And wouldest thou not see it, where it shines in perfect beauty? Hast thou prayed and labored so hard to have the pleasure of a light at midnight, and is it not thy desire to behold the sun itself? Will the things of heaven please thee nowhere but on earth, where they are least and weakest? Away, away! vindictive flames are ready to consume this sinful world. Sinners are treasuring up wrath against the day of wrath. Look not then “behind thee. Away from this unhappy world! ‘Press toward the mark, looking for and hastening unto the coming of the day of Grod.5 As this world has used thee, so it would still do. “When thou hast fared best in it, no thanks to it, but to Grod. If thou hast had manifold deliverances and preservations, and hast been fed with angels’ food, love not the wilderness, but thy heavenly guide, protector, and deliverer. Does Grod in his great mercy make pain and feebleness the harbingers of death, and wilt thou not understand their business? “Wouldest thou dwell with thy beloved body in the grave, where it will rot in loathsome darkness? If not, why should it now, in its painful languor, seem to thee a more pleasing habitation than the glorious presence of thy Lord? In the grave it will be at rest, nor at the night wish, 0 that it were morning, nor in the morning say, “When will it be night? And is this a dwelling fit for thy delight? Patience in it, while God will so try thee, is thy duty: but is such patience a better and sweeter life than rest and joy?”
But alas, how deaf is flesh to reason. I have reason enough to be willing to depart, even much more willing than I am. 0 that I could be as willing as reason convinces me I ought to be. Could I love God as much as I know I ought to love him, then I should desire to depart and to be with Christ as much as I know I ought to desire it. But death must be a penalty even where it is a gain; and therefore it must meet wTith some unwillingness. Because we willingly sinned, we must unwillingly suffer. All the faith and reason in the world will not make death to be no penalty, and therefore will not take away all unwillingness. No man ever reasoned or believed himself into a love of pain and death, as such. But since the gain is unspeakably greater than the pain and loss, therefore faith and holy reason may make our willingness greater than our unwillingness, and our hope and joy than our fear and sorrow. “Come then, my soul, and think believingly what is best for thee,’’ which will be the subject of the next chapter; “and wilt thou not love and desire that most which is certainly best?”