2 Corinthians 5:1
“For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.”
"Come!" said the celebrated Addison, just before his death, to the youthful and dissipated Earl of Warwick, "Come, see how a Christian can die." Death is the foe of man; but it is the glory of the Gospel that it teaches us how we may meet this last enemy with triumph. When the Savior was on his way to the grave of Lazarus, he proclaimed, I am the resurrection and the life; if a man believe in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and he that lives and believes in me shall never die! Though not destroyed, already is death virtually abolished. The death of death was realized in the death of Christ. In the memorable hour when he hung on Calvary, he took away the strength of the law, and extracted the sting of death. And when he rose, death was swallowed up in victory. The believer lives under a constitution of grace, and under that constitution he dies. To the last hour of his mortal career, the memorials of his weakness are blended with the emblems of his victory. Sin reigns unto death; but grace reigns through righteousness, unto eternal life, by Jesus Christ our Lord. The "dread passage of the tomb" is lost in the brightness of the prospect beyond it; so that all through the dark valley, with exulting confidence, he may say, For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens!
Such was the triumph of the primitive Christians. Nor was it theirs alone to experience the power and preciousness of the Gospel in the immediate prospect of eternity. To the long and bright catalogue of names, which, like a cloud of witnesses to the hopes and consolations of the Christian in a dying hour, another is added in the name of that beloved and venerated man, whose death is the occasion of this discourse, and at whose request I now address you. Let us, preparatory to this last token of respect which we take so much pleasure in paying to his memory, turn our attention to a brief analysis of the passage of Holy Scripture selected to give some direction to our thoughts on this occasion.
"For we know, that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were DISSOLVED." When the disciples beheld the splendor of the ancient temple, its just proportions, its massive walls, its towering height, and exclaimed with astonishment, See what manner of stones and buildings are these; their Master replied to them only by a prediction of its speedy fall. 'Do you see these buildings? There shall not be left one stone upon another that shall not be thrown down.' The earthly house of this tabernacle shall be thrown down. The keepers of it shall tremble, and the strong men shall bow themselves. However fair, and beautiful, and vigorous, nothing can shield it from decay. The head that is crowned with honor must lie low. The eye that beams with sensibility and intelligence must become dim. The tongue shall become mute that moves with powerful and melting persuasion. The warm and throbbing heart shall become still and cold as marble. Wherever we cast our eyes, we see all that is excellent marked by imperfection; all that is most permanent hastening to decay. Disease springs up in every climate; death multiplies his victims under every sky, and reigns over every age of time. We sicken, and die, and moulder away in the grave. Dust you are, and unto dust shall you return. The building is dissolved. Man dies and wastes away; yes, man gives up the spirit, and where is he?
Life is a mystery– from the flower that blooms on the valley, to the highest forms of conscious and intelligent existence. But what shall we say of death? Life, clothed with sensation, thought, and activity, was the last and highest act of the Creator’s power. But death — that mysterious change which defaced the beauty of this living creation, and breaks in pieces this most excellent monument of divine wisdom —what is it, but one of the highest and most striking proofs of the omnipotency of God, which spares not this his noblest work? See this beautiful vase dashed and broken! The silver cord is loosed. The golden bowl is broken. The pitcher is broken at the fountain, and the wheel broken at the cistern. Look for that fair edifice which but now reared itself in beauty and splendor, and the eye sees nothing but its fallen ruins. Not a vestige of its fair proportions remains. The living inhabitant that once occupied it, is gone to some distant world; and the once beautified, adorned mansion is already beginning to be decomposed, and returning to its original dust. Nothing but desolation and decay are visible, and the stillness of death reigns throughout its deserted chambers.
Man has no power to ward off the stroke of death. The monuments of human enterprise are found in costly pyramids and lofty temples; in battles that have deluged the earth with blood, and in cities and empires that have withstood the desolations of time. But there is no memorial of power and genius that have erected a barrier before the tomb. Barbarous nations have been civilized by man. The fields of science have been explored by his wisdom and industry. By his authority over the elements, he has compassed earth and ocean, and well near annihilated space. But with all his capacity for great and noble achievement, he has never been able to enlarge the boundaries of human life, or rescue a single victim from the King of Terrors. Death’s arrows are sharp. His hand is unerring and ruthless. The giant stalks unseen, and throughout all the vast arena of his conflicts, none can resist, or evade his ravages. We may weep. We may tremble. But we cannot escape his fury.
But does the history of man terminate in the tomb? Is death an eternal sleep? Is the grave a world of everlasting oblivion? Are the darkness and silence of the sepulcher the last traces of this once busy and active creation? Are the triumphs of the King of Terrors never to be arrested? May we conjecture nothing? Do we know nothing that relates to our final and ultimate destiny? Then are we, of all beings, the most miserable. Did the all-wise, all-powerful and good God, frame and fit up this earthly house, and make it the residence of a thinking, living inhabitant, endued with such strong and restless desires after immortality- such noble faculties and vast capacities of intellect- and open to him such an unlimited range of view throughout the immensity of space and duration- all to be extinguished in the grave? Has he invested this sensitive existence with the noblest moral powers, and inwoven in his constitution, principles and affections, which mark his dignity and grandeur, and indicate his destination to some high scene of action and enjoyment, merely to slumber under the clods of the valley?
Then is man the most inexplicable phenomenon in the universe. Then is his existence an unfathomable mystery, and the end for which he was created an enigma never to be unraveled. Has the Mighty Creator imparted beauty, order, and harmony, to the material creation, and left the moral creation such a scene of disorder and anarchy? Shall the smallest seed, after dying in the earth, shoot forth its umbrageous branches?—shall the lowest reptile, after ingeniously forming its own winding-sheet, and burying itself in its own self-formed sepulcher, burst its clod, unfold its wings, and come forth the beautified inhabitant of other regions?—while man lies buried in the darkness and desolation of the tomb? Then is every thing wrapped in obscurity in the world in which we dwell, and the conduct of the Great Being who presides over the affairs of the universe, shrouded in impenetrable darkness.
I find no such gloomy considerations as these when I look into the Bible. The confirmations and illustrations of a future state are inwoven with the whole scope and design of the divine Oracles, and comprise the sum and substance of their revelations. I turn to these sacred pages, and learn that there are those to whom death is the vestibule to heaven. There I discover a world of immortality and joy. I know that the earthly house of this tabernacle must be dissolved, but am assured of a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.
It is a delightful thought, when we deposit in their last earthly rest the dust of those who lived and died in Christ, that the next event in their history will be their acquittal before the throne, and their welcome to the heavenly kingdom. No sooner are their souls removed from this mouldering tenement, than they have a habitation beyond the skies. They go from earth to heaven.
A building is there fitted up for their residence. They inhabit a mansion that has a local existence as really as the earth on which we dwell. There God himself dwells more visibly and gloriously than in any other part of the universe. There is the residence of angels. There the Savior ascended when he left this world, and there he lives and reigns. Enoch and Elijah occupy that glorious mansion, and thence descended on the holy mount. All the redeemed will inhabit it. In what part of the universe this great building is erected no tongue of mortals can tell. Perhaps somewhere beyond the regions of this solar system, the Almighty has established this glorious high throne- this third heavens, this high and holy place. Nor can we doubt that it is a scene of loveliness, of magnificence and splendor, worthy of its Divine Author, and the everlasting abode of the highest and purest of spirits in the universe.
It is a building of God. God himself is the mighty architect. It was planned by him. By him it was finished and fitted up, to be the residence of all who love him. He presides over it; everywhere dispensing light, purity, and joy, in fullness and perfection. Unutterable as they are, its glories are nothing without him. The immediate and visible presence of its God and King constitutes its blessedness. In his presence is fullness of joy; at his right hand are pleasures forevermore. The presence and contemplation of the Great God will afford ample enjoyment to the mind forever.
It is a house not made with hands—a mansion far superior to any which the mind of man ever devised, and a significant monument of the power, wisdom, and love of its author. It went up silently—unheard—almost unseen. At his word, at the omnipotent expression of his will, it emerged from nothing into existence. He spoke, and it was done; he commanded; and it stood fast. Without the aid of any other power, without violence, or effort, without confusion an without noise, he called it into being and garnished it with all its glories. It is eminently a spiritual world. There is no Temple there; for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the Temple of it. The luminaries that shed their luster on this terrestrial globe shall not shine there; for there shall be no need of the Sun, nor of the moon to shine in it, for the glory of the Lord shall lighten it, and the Lamb shall be the light thereof.
The verdure and fruits of this lower creation shall not be found there; for they shall all be forgotten in the overshadowing beauty and perennial fruits of the 'Tree of Life'. The streams which refresh and vivify this earth shall not flow there; for in heaven is the pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and the Lamb.
It is a new heaven and new earth, wherein dwells righteousness. There is nothing there that defiles. Every subject of this celestial empire is as holy as its King is holy; every child in that heavenly family is perfect as its Father in heaven is perfect. Holy beings are in their element there—in a holy atmosphere—with holy associates—all constituting one immense and harmonious society; a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing.
And they will be as happy as they are holy. The highest pleasures of intellect will be combined with the purest pleasures of the heart; the sweetest pleasures of solitude with the most expanded pleasures of society, everywhere reciprocal, everywhere beaming with smiles and sparkling with joy. No heart shall be wrung with disappointment and anguish; no countenance dejected with melancholy; no eye heavy with sorrow, or dim with tears. No needs will there remain to be supplied; no dangers to be averted; no concerns to be relieved; for the former things are passed away.
And this building is also eternal in the heavens. Its walls are reared by omnipotence and truth; its vast foundations laid deep in the unchanging purposes of God. His eye alone can compass its wonderful magnitude, for it stretches over boundless space. His mind alone can span its vast duration, for it exists forever. Time will not impair it, for time will be no more. Eternity will not move its foundations, for they are based upon the Rock of Ages. No foe will scale its ramparts, for God himself is its defense and glory. Storms and tempests will not assail it, for they have no escape from that imprisoned world, where, with all evil elements they have been banished. It stands, a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. There is not a source of celestial joy, but will be everlasting; not a mind in heaven whose capacities and anticipations will not "spread and flourish to all eternity." The inheritance is incorruptible, undefiled, and that fades not away—a continuing city—an everlasting habitation.
Paul could say, we have this inheritance. Already are we possessors of it. We stand upon its threshold. We know that it is ours. Wonderful assurance! for a man who confesses that of sinners he is the chief. But not more wonderful than true. There is a glorious peculiarity in the convictions that are the result of revealed truth. They are not conjecture; they are not doubt and uncertainty; they are not the hopes and fears of an alternately confiding and suspicious mind. Nor are they conclusions deduced from the strong preponderance of probabilities. They are truth and certainty. For WE KNOW, that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.
I would be slow to affirm, that "assurance is of the essence of faith." The trembling hope, and agitating fear of many an humble child of God may not always be the result of unbelief. And yet, where doubt and hesitation exist, they may be almost always attributed to some sinful, or unnecessary cause. The Scriptures, if I read them aright, justify, and even require of the people of God a strong and unwavering confidence that heaven will be their final abode. This is their duty and privilege. Not that that holy and happy world is the object of their senses; for they have never seen it, and have no such speculative discernment of it as they have of external objects. Not that they always had the same apprehensions of it which they now have; for their corrupt affections once rendered them blind to spiritual and holy objects, nor could they know them, because they are spiritually discerned. There is a stronger ground of confidence than sense, or reason; and that is the veracity of God. Sense and reason may deceive us. The testimony of our fellow-men may deceive us. But God cannot mistake; God cannot lie. Whatever he declares we know must be truth. His word is the foundation of a faith that is unwavering.
Faith in God gives reality and palpableness to the objects of hope, presence to what is future, and appearance and perspicuousness to what is not perceptible. It is the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen. The believer implicitly confides in all that God has revealed, not only concerning the existence and blessedness of heaven, but concerning the method of mercy by his Son. That wonderful redemption he no more doubts it than he doubts his own existence. God has given Him to be sin for us who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him. On this corner stone, this tried stone, this eternal Rock, he casts the anchor of his hope. He knows whom he has believed, and is persuaded that he is able to keep that which he has committed to him against that day. Through him, who is Our Righteousness, God has promised to pardon, sanctify, sustain in holiness, raise from the dead, justify before his throne, deliver from deserved wrath, and advance to heaven, all who believe in this appointed Mediator.
Good men trust in the divine faithfulness. They behold the promises afar off, and are persuaded of them, and embrace them. Though an ensnaring world and a faithless heart may assail and endeavor to subvert their confidence, they well know that the arm of omnipotence is made bare to execute what immutable truth has engaged. Difficulties they may see on every side; dangers they may fear from without and from within; but no weapon formed against them shall prosper. Nothing shall separate them from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus their Lord. With a faith that purifies the heart and exerts a transforming, practical influence, they receive the testimony of God, and believe to the salvation of their souls.
And they themselves may know that they have thus believed. There is, in the nature of the case, no foundation for doubt or hesitation as to the reality of the work of the Holy Spirit upon the heart. It is his province to take of the things that are Christ’s, and show them unto us. "There is a wide difference between the knowledge of Jesus Christ and every other sort of knowledge." There is a wide difference between the fruits of the Spirit, and the works of the flesh; between the supreme love of God and the supreme love of self, and the world; between the faith that lives, and the faith that is founded on presumption, and is dead. The grace which forms in the mind of man the character, which makes him to differ from a world that lies in wickedness, conferred as it is in execution of an unchangeable purpose, and with the view of preparing it for the glory to be revealed, cannot fail of producing an observable effect. Where conscience is neither bribed, nor embarrassed in her judgment, men may know whether they have the faith of the Gospel, or the faith of devils, and whether they are alive in Christ, or dead in sin. Paul had remaining corruptions; but they did not prove that he had no saving knowledge of Christ. Many a time was he constrained to exclaim, O, wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death! While many a time he could shout the triumph, I thank God, who gives me the victory through Jesus Christ my Lord!
The disciples of the Savior have an earnest of heaven already within them. They enjoy it by anticipation. God has given to them his Spirit as a pledge of their future felicity and glory. They have a part already, and expressly given as a seal and security that in due time they shall be put in complete and entire possession of the whole. Holiness is essentially the same thing on earth that it is in heaven. The fruits of the Spirit, so often gathered on this valley of tears, are the same with those which grow in richer and riper clusters on Mount Zion above. Every gracious affection is the germ of heaven. As it came from heaven, so it conducts to heaven. The Spirit of God has left an impression on the minds of his people, never to be obliterated; an impression as deep and varied as the image of their Heavenly Father.
The rough features of the old man, with its affections and lusts, are gradually worn away, and the growing lineaments of the new man are marked with unusual distinctness, and clothed with unearthly beauty. The kingdom of God is within them. They have a heaven-directed, as well as heaven-born mind. Their thoughts and affections are heavenward. They maintain, though not an invariable, yet an habitually upward tendency. They are heavenly in their temper, and spirit, and aims. Their treasure is in heaven, and their hearts are there. As they look around upon this desert world, they see nothing worthy of an anxious wish. It is a soothing reflection to them, that here they have no continuing city, and that this barren earth is not the place where the heirs of glory should dwell. Habitually do they hunger and thirst after righteousness. Often is it their privilege to enjoy peculiar nearness to God; and as their path draws nearer to the promised land, and their views become insensibly blended with the scarcely brighter visions of the heavenly world, you may hear them say, For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building from God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.
Do you wonder then, while we say, Come see how a Christian can die! Listen to that song of triumph. Hear that holy man, when earth and earthly things are sinking around him, and he has every thing to fear from the fury of his persecutors, calmly exclaim, I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight; I have finished my course; I have kept the faith. Henceforth, there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me at that day, and not to me only, but to all those who love his appearing!
Go to the dying couch of Payson. Hear him say, "The battle’s fought, and the victory’s won—won forever! God is literally now my all in all. I have no tears to shed but those of love, joy, and thankfulness!" The noblest and the weakest believer rest on the same foundation, and have but one hope. "I cannot say," said a child of God, as he was addressing himself to the dark valley, "that I have so lived as not to be afraid to die; but I can say, that I have so known Christ as not to be afraid to die." Such is the hope of the believer. And with such a hope he can plunge into eternity. And nothing, beloved hearers, but such a hope can sustain you in a dying hour. To know what death is, and yet meet it with composure, is the privilege only of the Christian. He only connects a distinct view of death in all its portentous consequences, with a fearless anticipation of its approach. The thoughtless worldling may not always die in despair. But his hopes are suspicious; they are blind; they are groundless; and they perish when God takes away his soul.
Hope, to be full of consolation, must be intelligent and firm. It must be the sweet composure of a child of God, who speaks of his approaching dissolution, as he would speak of going home. Death is a dark day to the vanquished sinner; but it is the bright moment of the Christian conqueror’s triumph. While every thing that is mortal within him shrinks and perishes at the approach of this terrific foe, here the power of the destroyer ends. Over that which is immortal, he has no control. This body is his to unnerve and paralyze, and deliver over to his hideous attendant, dark corruption; but the soul is beyond his reach. His cheek is pale. His lips tremble; but not with despair, not with fear. Death and sin are making their assault upon his outward form, his covering of clay, and with furious outrage, for it is their last. But within all is peace. Hope is there enthroned strong and steadfast, unshaken and unmoved, until it give place to a full, perfect, and present certainty of holiness and joy.
From the design of this discourse, it is no doubt expected that I should inform you how the Redeemer honored and supported in the last conflict, his once afflicted, but now glorified servant, whose lifeless body lies here before us. You will expect, too, on an occasion like the present, that I should furnish you with some brief notices of a life so endeared to us all, and so faithfully and actively devoted to his Master’s service.
~A Sermon Preached at Newark, at the Interment of Edward Dorr Griffin, on the 10th of November, 1837
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