Chapter 10: The Season of This Satisfaction — At Death and Resurrection

The season of this satisfaction, which is twofold: at death, and at the resurrection. The former is spoken to, wherein it is shown that this life is to the soul (even of a saint) but as a sleep, and that at death it awakes. As to the latter, that there is a considerable addition to its happiness at the resurrection.

3. The season of this blessedness comes next to be considered, which (as the words "when I awake" have been concluded here to import) must in general be stated beyond the time of this present life.

Holy souls are here truly blessed, not perfectly; or their present blessedness is perfect only in nature and kind, not in degree. It is in this respect as far short of perfection as their holiness is. Their hunger and thirst are present; their being filled is yet future. The experience of saints in their best state on earth — their desires, their hopes, their sighs, and groans — sufficiently witness that they are not satisfied; or if they be, in point of security, they are not in point of enjoyment. The completion of this blessedness is reserved to a better state, as its being the end of their way, their rest from their labors, the reward of their work does import and require. Therefore many Scriptures that speak of their present rest, peace, repose, and satisfaction must be understood in a comparative, not the absolute highest, sense.

More particularly in that other state, the season of their blessedness is twofold, or there are two terms from where (in respect of some gradual or modal diversifications) it may be said severally to commence, or bear date, namely:

The time of their entrance upon a blessed immortality, when they shall have laid down their earthly bodies in death. And of their consummation therein, when they receive their bodies glorified, in the general resurrection.

Both these may not unfitly be signified by the phrase in the text, "when I awake." For, though Scripture does more directly apply the term of "awaking" to the latter, there will be no violence done to the metaphor if we extend its signification to the former also. To which purpose, it is to be noted that it is not death formally, or the disanimating of the body, we would have here to be understood by it (which indeed sleeping would more aptly signify than awaking) but (what is coincident therewith in the same period) the awakening and revival of the soul. When the body falls asleep, then does the Spirit awake, and the eyelids of the morning — even of an eternal day — do now first open upon it.

1. Therefore we shall not exclude from this season the introductive state of blessedness, which takes its beginning from the blessed soul's first entrance into the invisible state. And the fitness of admitting it will appear by clearing these two things.

1. That its condition in this life, even at the best, is in some sort but a sleep.

2. That when it passes out of it into the invisible regions, it is truly said to awake.

1. Its abode in this mortal body is but a continual sleep; its senses are bound up, a drowsy slumber possesses and suspends all its faculties and powers.

Before the renovating change, how frequently does the Scripture speak of sinners as men asleep? "Let not us sleep as do others. Awake, you that sleep, and stand up from the dead," etc. They are in a dead sleep, under the sleep of death. They apprehend things as men asleep. How slight, obscure, hovering notions have they of the most momentous things — and which it most concerns them to have thorough, real apprehensions of. All their thoughts of God, Christ, heaven, hell, of sin, of holiness, are but uncertain, wild guesses, blind hallucinations, incoherent fancies — the absurdity and inconcinnity whereof they no more reflect upon than men asleep. They know not these things, but only dream of them. They put darkness for light, and light for darkness, having no senses exercised to discern between good and evil. The most substantial realities are with them mere shadows and chimeras. Fancied and imagined dangers startle them (as it is wont to be with men in a dream); real ones, though never so near them, they as little fear as these. The creature of their own imagination, the lion in the way, which they dream of in their slothful slumber, frightens them; but the real roaring lion that is ready to devour them, they are not afraid of.

And conversion does but relax and intermit; it does not totally break off this sleep. It, as it were, attenuates the consopiting fumes, but does not utterly dispel them. What a difficulty it is to watch but one hour! There are some lucid and vivid intervals, but of how short continuance? How soon does the awakened soul close its heavy eyes and fall asleep again? How often do temptations surprise even such, in their slumbering fits, while no sense of their danger can prevail with them to watch and pray (with due care and constancy) lest they enter into that.

To this are most of the sins of our lives to be imputed and referred — not to mere ignorance, that we know not sin from duty, or what will please God and what displease him — but to a drowsy inadvertence, that we keep not our spirits in a watchful, considering posture. Our eyes that should be ever toward the Lord will not be kept open, and though we resolve, we forget ourselves; before we are aware we find ourselves overtaken: sleep comes on upon us like an armed man, and we cannot avert it. How often do we hear, and read, and pray, and meditate as persons asleep, as if we knew not what we were about? How many remarkable, useful providences escape either our notice or due improvement, amidst our secure slumbers? How many visits from heaven are lost to us, when we are (as it were) between sleeping and waking — "I sleep, but my heart wakes" — and hardly own the voice that calls upon us, till our beloved has withdrawn himself. Indeed, what is the whole of our life here but a dream? The entire scene of this sensible world is but a vision of the night, where every man walks but in a vain show — where we are mocked with shadows and our credulous sense abused by impostures and delusive appearances. Nor are we ever secure from the most destructive, mischievous deception, further than as our souls are possessed with the apprehensions that this is the very truth of our case, and from there instructed to consider and not to prefer the shadows of time before the great realities of eternity.

Nor is this sleep casual, but even connatural to our present state, the necessary result of so strict a union, and commerce with the body, which is, to the indwelling Spirit, as a dormitory or charnel-house, rather than a mansion. A soul drenched in sensuality (a [reconstructed: Lethe] that has too little of fiction in it) and immured in a slothful putrid flesh, sleeps, as it were, by fate — not by chance; and is only capable of full relief, by suffering a dissolution; which it has reason to welcome as a jubilee, and in the instant of departure to sacrifice as he did (with that easy and warrantable change, to make a Heathen expression Scriptural, Jehovae liberatori) to adore and praise its great Deliverer. At least (accounts being once made up, and a meetness in any measure attained for the heavenly inheritance, etc.) has no reason to regret, or dread the approaches of the eternal day, more than we do the return of the sun after a dark and long night. But, as the sluggard does nothing more unwillingly than forsake his bed, nor bears anything with more regret, than to be awakened out of his sweet sleep, though you should entice him, with the pleasures of a paradise, to quit a smoky loathsome cottage; so fares it with the sluggish soul, as if it were lodged in an enchanted bed; it is so fast held by the charms of the body, all the glory of the other world is little enough to tempt it out, than which there is not a more deplorable symptom of this sluggish slumbering state. So deep an oblivion (which you know is also naturally incident to sleep) has seized it of its own country, of its alliances above, its relation to the Father and world of spirits, it takes this earth for its home, where it is both in exile and captivity at once. And (as a prince, stolen away in his infancy, and bred up in a beggar's shed) so little seeks, that it declines a better state. This is the degenerate torpid disposition of a soul lost in flesh, and enwrapped in stupefying clay; which has been deeply resented by some heathens. So one brings in Socrates pathetically bewailing this oblivious dreaming temper of his soul which (he says) had seen that pulchritude (you must pardon him, here, the conceit of its pre-existence) that neither human voice could utter, nor eye behold. But that now, in this life, it had only some little remembrance thereof, as in a dream, being both in respect of place, and condition, far removed from so pleasant sights, pressed down into an earthly station, and there encompassed with all manner of dirt and filthiness, etc.

And to the same purpose Plato often speaks in the name of the same person: and particularly, of the winged state of the good soul, when apart from the body, carried in its triumphant flying chariot (of which he gives a large description, somewhat resembling Solomon's rapturous metaphor: Before I was aware, my soul made me as the chariots of Amminadib.) But being in the body, it is with it, as with a bird that has lost its wings, it falls a sluggish weight to the earth.

Which indeed is the state even of the best, in a degree, within this tabernacle. A sleepy torpor stops their flight. They can fall, but not ascend; the remains of such a drowsiness do still hang even about saints themselves. The Apostle therefore calls upon such to awake out of sleep; from that consideration (as we know men are not accustomed to sleep so intensely towards morning) that now their salvation was nearer than when they believed, that is (as some judicious interpreters understand that place) for that they were nearer death, and eternity than when they first became Christians (though this passage be also otherwise, and not improbably interpreted.) However,

2. The holy soul's release and dismissal from its earthly body (which is that we propounded next to be considered) will excuss and shake off this drowsy sleep. Now is the happy season of its awaking into the heavenly vital light of God. The blessed morning of that long-desired day is now dawned upon it; the cumbersome night-veil is laid aside, and the garments of salvation and immortal glory are now put on. It has passed through the trouble and darkness of a wearisome night, and now is joy arrived with the morning (as we may be permitted to allude to those words of the Psalmist, though that be not supposed to be the peculiar sense.)

I conceive myself here not concerned, operously to insist in proving that the souls of saints sleep not in the interval, between death and the general resurrection; but enjoy present blessedness. It being besides the design of a practical discourse, which rather intends the propounding and improvement of things acknowledged, and agreed for the advantage and benefit of them with whom they are so; than the discussing of things dubious and controversial. And what I here propound in order to a consequent improvement and application, should methinks pass for an acknowledged truth among them that professedly believe, and seriously read and consider the Bible. For mere philosophers, that do not come into this account, it were impertinent to discourse with them from a text of Scripture; and where my design only obliges me to intend the handling of that; and to deliver it from what may fitly be supposed to have its ground there, unless their allegations did carry with them the species of demonstrating the simple impossibility of what is asserted from there to the power of that God whose word we take it to be; which I have not found anything they say to amount to. That we have reason to presume it an acknowledged thing among them that will be concluded by Scripture; that the soul does not sleep when it ceases to animate its earthly body, many plain texts do evince, which are amassed together, by the reverend Mr. Baxter, some of the principal of which I would invite any that waver in this matter seriously to consider. As the words of our Savior to the thief on the cross. This day you shall be with me in paradise. That of the Apostle, 'We are willing rather to be absent from the body, and present with the Lord.' And that, 'I am in a strait, having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ.' That passage, 'The spirits of just men made perfect,' etc. Which are expressions so clear, that it is hard for an industrious caviller to find what to except to them; and indeed the very exceptions that are put in, are so frivolous, that they carry a plain confession, there is nothing colorable to be said.

Indeed and most evident it is from those texts; not only that holy souls sleep not, in that state of separation; but that they are awakened by it (as out of a former sleep) into a much more lively, and vigorous activity, than they enjoyed before: and translated into a state, as much better than their former, as the tortures of a cross, are more ungrateful, than the pleasures of a Paradise; these joys fuller of vitality, than those sickly dying faintings. As the immediate presence, and close embraces of the Lord of life; are more delectable than a mournful disconsolate absence from him (which the Apostle therefore tells us he desired, as far better (and with an emphasis which our English too faintly expresses; for he uses a double comparative [illegible] by much more better, and as a perfected, that is, a crowned triumphant spirit, that has attained the end of its race (as the words import in the agonistical notion) is now in a more vivid, joyous state than, when, lately toiling in a tiresome way, it languished under many imperfections. And it is observable, that in the three former Scriptures, that phrase of being with Christ, or being present with him, is the same which is used by the Apostle, (1 Thessalonians 4:17) to express the state of blessedness after the resurrection, intimating plainly the sameness of the blessedness before, and after. And though this phrase be also used to signify the present enjoyment saints have of God's gracious presence in this life (which is also in nature, and kind the same) yet it is plainly used in these Scriptures (the two latter more especially) to set out to us such a degree of that blessedness, that in comparison thereof our present being with Christ, is a not being with him; our presence with him, now, an absence from him. While we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord; and I am in a strait between two, desiring to depart (or having a desire to [reconstructed: dissolution]) and to be with Christ, etc. How strangely mistaken, and disappointed had the blessed Apostle been, had his absence from the body, his dissolution, his release, set him further off from Christ, or made him less capable of converse with him, than before he was! And how absurd would it be; to say the spirits of the just are perfected, by being cast into a stupefying sleep; indeed, or being put into any state, not better than they were in before? But their state is evidently far better. The body of death is now laid aside, and the [reconstructed: weights] of sin, that did so easily beset, are shaken off; flesh and sin are laid down together; the soul is rid of its burdensome bands, and shackles; has quitted its filthy darksome prison (the usual place of laziness, and sloth), is come forth of its drowsy dormitory, and the glory of God is risen upon it. It is now come into the world of realities; where things appear as they are, no longer as in a dream, or vision of the night. The vital quickening beams of divine light, are darting in upon it, on every side, and turning it into their own likeness. The shadows of the evening are vanished, and fled away. It converses with no other objects but what are full themselves, and most apt to replenish it with energy and life. This cannot be but a joyful awakening; a blessed season of satisfaction and delight, indeed, to the enlightened, revived soul. But

2. It must be acknowledged the further, and more eminent season of this blessedness will be, the general resurrection day, which is more expressly signified in Scripture, by this term of [reconstructed: awaking] as is manifest in many plain texts, where it is either expressly thus used, or implied to have this meaning in the opposite sense of the word sleep.

What addition shall then be made to the saints' blessedness, lies more remote from our apprehension; inasmuch as Scripture states not the degree of that blessedness which shall intervene. We know, by a too sad instructive experience, the calamities of our present state, and can therefore more easily conceive, wherein it is capable of betterment, by the deposition of a sluggish, cumbersome body, where those calamities mostly have their spring: but then we know less where to fix our foot, or from where to take our rise, in estimating the additional felicities of that future state, when both the states to be compared are so unknown to us.

But that there will be great additions is plain enough. The full recompense of obedience, and devotedness to Christ, of forgoing all for him, is affixed by his promise, to the resurrection of the just; the judgment day gives every one his portion according to his work. Then must the holy, obedient Christian hear from his Redeemer's mouth, Come, you blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom, etc. Till then, the devils think their torment to be before their time. It is when he shall appear, we shall be like him and see him as he is. That noted day is the day of being presented faultless with exceeding joy.

And there are various things, obviously enough to be reflected on, which cannot but be understood to contribute much to the increase and improvement of this inchoate blessedness.

The acquisition of a glorified body. For our vile bodies shall be so far transfigured, as to be made like [conform to] the glorious body of the Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. And this shall be when he shall appear from heaven, where saints here below are required to have their commerce as the enfranchised citizens thereof, and from where they are to continue looking for him, in the meantime. When he terminates and puts a period to that expectation of his saints on earth, then shall that great change be made, that is, when he actually appears, at which time the trumpet sounds, and even sleeping dust itself awakes; the hallowed dust of them that slept in Jesus first, who are then to come with him. This change may well be conceived to add, considerably, to their felicity. A natural congruity, and appetite is now answered, and satisfied, which did either lie dormant, or was under somewhat an anxious, restless expectation before; neither of which could well consist with a state of blessedness every way, already perfect. And that there is a real desire, and expectation of this change, seems to be plainly intimated in those words of Job, "All the days of my appointed time will I wait till my change come" (Chapter 14:14): where he must rather be understood to speak of the resurrection, than of death (as his words are commonly mistaken, and misapplied) as will appear by setting down the context from the seventh verse. For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof grows old in the earth, and the stock thereof dies in the ground: yet through the scent of water, it will bud and bring forth boughs like a plant. But man dies and wastes away; indeed, man gives up the ghost, and where is he? As the waters fail from the sea, and the flood decays, and dries up; so man lies down, and rises not till the heavens be no more: they shall not be awakened nor raised out of their sleep. O that you would hide me in the grave, that you would keep me secret till your wrath be past, that you would appoint me a set time, and remember me! If a man dies, shall he live again? All the days of my appointed time, will I wait till my change come. You shall call, and I will answer you; you will have a desire to the work of your hands. He first speaks according to common apprehension, and sensible appearance touching the hopeless state of man in death, as though it were less capable of reparation than that of some inferior creatures, to the end of verse 10. And then, gradually, discovers his better hope; betrays his faith, as it were obliquely, touching this point; lets it breaking out, first, in some obscure glimmerings, verses 11-12, giving us in his Protasis, a similitude not fully expressive of his seeming meaning, for waters, and floods, that fail may be renewed; and in his Apodosis more openly intimating man's sleep, should be only till the heavens were no more. Which "till" might be supposed to signify "never" were it not for what follows, verse 13, where he expressly speaks his confidence by way of petition, that at a set and appointed time, God would remember him, so as to recall him out of the grave, and at last being now minded to speak out more fully, puts the question to himself, if a man dies, shall he live again? And answers it: all the days of my appointed time (that is, of that appointed time which he mentioned before, when God should revive him out of the dust) will I wait till my change come, that is, that glorious change, when the corruption of a loathsome grave, should be exchanged for immortal glory, which he amplifies, and utters more expressly, verse 15. You shall call, and I will answer, you shall have a desire to the work of your hands. You will not always forget to restore, and perfect your own creature.

And surely that waiting is not the act of his inanimate, sleeping dust, but, though it be spoken of the person totally gone into Hades, into the invisible state; it is to be understood of that part, that should be capable of such an action, that is to say, I, in that part, that shall be still alive, shall patiently await your appointed time of reviving me in that part also, which death, and the grave shall insult over (in a temporary triumph) in the meantime; and so will the words carry a facile, commodious sense, without the unnecessary help of an imagined rhetorical scheme of speech. And then, that this waiting carries in it a desirous expectation of some additional good, is evident at first sight, which therefore must needs add to the satisfaction and blessedness, of the expecting soul. And wherein it may do so, is not altogether unapprehensible. Admit that a spirit, had it never been embodied, might be as well without a body, or that it might be as well provided of a body out of other materials; it is no unreasonable supposition, that a connate aptitude to a body, should render human souls more happy in a body sufficiently attempered to their most noble operations. And how much does relation and propriety endear things, otherwise mean and inconsiderable? Or why should it be thought strange, that a soul connaturalized to matter should be more particularly inclined to a particular portion thereof? So as that it should appropriate such a part, and say it is mine. And will it not be a pleasure to have a vitality diffused through what even more remotely appertains to me, to have everything belonging to the supposition perfectly vindicated from the tyrannous dominion of death? The returning of the spirits into a benumbed or sleeping toe or finger, adds a contentment to a man which he wanted before. Nor is it hence necessary the soul should covet a re-union with every effluvious particle of its former body. A desire implanted by God in a reasonable soul will aim at what is convenient, not what shall be cumbersome, or monstrous.

And how pleasant will it be to [reconstructed: contemplate] and admire the wisdom and power of [reconstructed: the] great Creator in this so glorious a change when I shall find a clod of earth, a [reconstructed: heap of dust] refined into a celestial purity [reconstructed: and] brightness; when what was sown in [reconstructed: corruption] shall be raised in incorruption; what was sown [reconstructed: in] dishonor, is raised in glory; what was sown in weakness, is raised in power; what was sown a natural body, is raised a spiritual body. When this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal an immortality; and death be wholly swallowed up in victory. So that this awakening may well be understood to carry that in it, which may bespeak it the proper season of the saints' consummate satisfaction and blessedness. But besides what it carries in itself: there are other (more extrinsic) concurrents that do further signalize this season, and import a great increase of blessedness, than to God's holy ones.

The body of Christ is now completed, the fullness of him, that fills all in all, and all the so nearly related parts cannot but partake in perfection, and reflected glory of the whole. There is joy in Heaven at the conversion of one sinner; though he have a troublesome scene yet to pass over; afterwards, in a tempting, wicked, unquiet world, how much more when the many sons shall be all brought to glory together?

The designs are all now accomplished, and wound up into the most glorious result and issue, for which the divine providence had been, as in travail, for so many thousand years. It is now seen how exquisite wisdom governed the world, and how steady a tendency the most intricate, and perplexed methods of providence had, to one stated and most worthy end.

Especially the constitution, administration, and ends of the Mediator's kingdom, are now beheld, in the exact aptitudes, order, and conspicuous glory; when so blessed an issue and success shall commend, and crown the whole undertaking.

The divine authority is now universally acknowledged, and adored; his justice is vindicated, and satisfied; his grace demonstrated and magnified to the uttermost. The whole assembly of saints solemnly acquitted by public sentence, presented spotless, and without blemish to God, and adjudged to eternal blessedness. It is the day of solemn triumph, and jubilation, upon the finishing of all God's works, from the creation of the world, wherein the Lord Jesus appears to be glorified in his saints, and admired in all who believe. Upon which ensues the resignation of the Mediator's kingdom (all the ends being now attained) that the Father [reconstructed: himself] may be immediately all in all. How aptly then are the fuller manifestations of God, the more glorious display of all his attributes, the larger and more abundant effusions of himself, reserved, (as the best wine to the last) to this joyful day? Created perfections could not have been before so absolute, but they might admit of improvement; their capacities not so large, but they might be extended further; and then who can doubt but that divine communications may also have a proportionable increase, and that upon the concourse of so many great occasions they shall have so?