The Sin of Scoffing at Religion 5

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IV. But it is time now to consider the PUNISHMENT of the scorner. It is not uncommon, I believe, for those who are not thoroughly hardened in their sin, to feel even in this world some compunction of conscience after a season of profane scoffing. Are there, tell me, scoffers, no midnight scenes of terror and self-reproach, when your head rests not on your pillow, and your conscience sleeps not in your bosom; when the recollection of your wicked jests and profane jokes is like the sting of a scorpion?

How will this be increased on the bed of death. Ah! there, in spite of yourselves, you will be serious—fools you may live—but depend upon it, fools you will not die. Or if, like the infidel Hume, you should go joking through the dark valley of the shadow of death—the stoppage of your pulse will be the end of your merriment forever! Let me present you with a few passages of holy writ, and let scoffers read them with attention:

"Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and a horrible tempest—this shall be the portion of their cup!"

"How long, O simple ones, will you love being simple? How long will scoffers delight in their scoffing and fools hate knowledge? If you turn at my reproof, behold, I will pour out my spirit to you; I will make my words known to you. Because I have called and you refused to listen, have stretched out my hand and no one has heeded, because you have ignored all my counsel and would have none of my reproof, I also will laugh at your calamity; I will mock when terror strikes you, when terror strikes you like a storm and your calamity comes like a whirlwind, when distress and anguish come upon you. Then they will call upon me, but I will not answer; they will seek me diligently but will not find me. Because they hated knowledge and did not choose the fear of the Lord, would have none of my counsel and despised all my reproof, therefore they shall eat the fruit of their way, and have their fill of their own devices. For the simple are killed by their turning away, and the complacency of fools destroys them; but whoever listens to me will dwell secure and will be at ease, without dread of disaster."

"Surely he scorns the scorners; but he gives grace unto the lowly."

"Judgments are prepared for scorners, and stripes for the back of fools."

"Therefore hear the word of the Lord, you scornful men, that rule this people which is in Jerusalem. Because you have said, We have made a covenant with death, and with hell are we at agreement; when the overflowing scourge shall pass through, it shall not come unto us—for we have made lies our refuge, and under falsehood have we hid ourselves."

Do you wish to experience what is included in these fearful denunciations? It is not in my power completely to unfold them, or to tell how angry God is with such people now, and how heavily he will inflict his wrath hereafter. But this much I can say—all that is contained in that fearfully comprehensive—but commonly abused word, "hell"—the wrath of God, remorse of conscience, and eternal despair—are the chief ingredients of this cup of torment. I cannot conceive of any character with whom Jehovah will be so awfully severe as the scoffer; his is the loftiest height of vice, and his will be the lowest depth of punishment.

God's patience in bearing with such impious creatures is astounding; and his justice in punishing them will be in proportion. Oh! let me be anything in the day of judgment, rather than a scoffer. He will be no mocker then. No! I see him hanging down his head like a bulrush; the haughtiness of his spirit all gone; trembling with consternation and dismay, he stands the object of divine scorn and indignation. His wit, his irony, his mimicry, avail him nothing there. He cannot play the buffoon amidst the fearful solemnities of the last judgment. Oh no! The poor trembling creature finds 'seeing God' a far different thing from scoffing at him. He is now at the tribunal of the Judge of the whole earth, waiting his eternal destiny, with certain and dreadful presages of what it will be. He is no longer surrounded with a circle of applauding listeners, who laugh at his wit; he no longer hears the inspiring chorus of folly; instead, he is before the tribunal of the God whom he insulted—on one side he sees the men looking on him with horror, whose ruin he accelerated by his scoffs; and, on the other, the holy objects on whom his scorn was vented. Yes, and how is he confounded at the latter.

Everything in that day will combine to fill him with consternation; yet, methinks, neither the voice of the archangel, nor the trumpet of God, nor the dissolution of the elements, nor the face of the Judge itself, from which the heavens will flee away, will be so dismaying and terrible as the sight of the saints of the most high God, whom having spurned, ridiculed, and mocked in the days of their humiliation, he will then behold with amazement, united with their Lord, covered with his glory, and seated upon his throne. How will he be astonished to see them encompassed with so much majesty. How will he cast down his eyes in their presence. How will he curse his folly in treating them with so much ridicule, and forming such an inadequate idea of their principles and of their character.

"Then shall the righteous man stand in great boldness before the face of such as have afflicted him, and made no account of his labors. When they see it, they shall be troubled with terrible fear, and shall be amazed at the glory of his salvation, so far beyond all that they looked for. And they, repenting and groaning for anguish of spirit, shall say within themselves—This was he whom we had sometimes in derision, and a proverb of reproach. We fools accounted his life madness, and his end to be without honor. How is he numbered among the children of God, and his lot is among the saints."

And then, who shall tell the secrets of his prison, or conceive of what the scorner shall endure in the dark world of hell. There will be no saint near him there on whom to utter the effusions of his ridicule; no piety shall there offend his eyes; far as heaven is from hell shall these be removed out of his way. He has only to wait a little longer until he has reached the destiny on which his crime is impelling him, and he will inhabit a world where the hated, persecuted form of piety will trouble him no longer. Will he assuage his own agonies, or divert the companions of his misery with merry jokes upon the saints? Not one flash of wit will for a moment relieve the darkness of eternal night; not one sally of humor resist the oppression of eternal despair. Hell itself, will be no longer a subject of merriment when its torments are really felt; the burning lake, when the soul is plunged in its fiery billows, will be found something else and something worse than a mere scene of merriment for a wretched imagination to sport in; and devils, when the spirit is subjected to their tyranny, as tormentors, will be no longer images of laughter.

In the bottomless pit the scorner shall learn, if he learns not before—that there is truth in the Bible, and reality in religion. Poor creature! will he then seek relief from present remorse in looking back upon the scenes of his past life! Alas! alas! those scenes are the very sources of his anguish. Yes, the recollection of those jests, and witticisms, sarcasms, and anecdotes, intended to make piety appear ridiculous, and the saints to appear contemptible, will fill him with torture a thousand times more intolerable than the venom of serpents and the stings of scorpions.

Oh, for some Lethean draught to enable him to forget the past, and to convert it into a dreary blank! (Lethe was a mythical river in Hell whose waters cause drinkers to forget their past.) But even this would be insufficient, while near him were the miserable specters of those whom his scoffing helped on to perdition. Will they inspire him there with their shouts of applause? Will they there remind him of the diversion he afforded them in their mirthful hours, when he made them, in spite of their own convictions of its wickedness, laugh at religion? will they honor him as the best wit in all the gloomy regions of eternal night? What when he has been accessory to their damnation? No! instead of applauding the courage of their ringleader as they once did, will load him with imprecations, and, with their last breath, curse the author of their ruin!

Scorner, beware, you are playing a desperate game! Your soul is the stake, your loss is certain, hell will be the consequence! The objects of your attack are open to conviction—but are invulnerable to scorn. They have no prejudice which fortifies them against argument; but against the shafts of ridicule they are armed at every point, and calmly and silently leaving you to exhaust your quiver of its last arrow, will let your harmless weapons publish your defeat, and then, amidst the consciousness of innocence and of victory, content themselves with saying, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

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