THE RAINBOW: 3 Magazine of Christian Literature, with Special Reference to the Revealed Future of the Church and the World. JANUARY 1, 1876. THE DIVINE NATURE CAPABLE OF SUFFERING. TWICE WICE in St. Paul's first epistle to Timothy, and no where else in the New Testament, is the word makarios (happy) applied to God in chap. i. 11, "the glorious gospel of the blessed God," and in chap. vi. 15, "the blessed and only Potentate." In every other place, where the word "blessed" is found so applied in our translation, the original word is eulogoumenos, that is, worthy of admiration or praise. To believe that the Creator possesses within himself every element of the highest happiness is essential to perfect confidence in him. If he were not happy himself, it would be hard to see how he could make his creatures happy, even supposing he wished to do so. We should feel any thing but secure, in the hands of an irresistible, yet unsatisfied and discontented Potentate. But does this supreme blessedness exclude the possibility of any portion of it being for a time surrendered? Is the Supreme Being incapable of making any real felt sacrifice? Probably the highest created intelligence would beforehand have answered, No. It would have been difficult to conceive, either that he would allow any circumstances to arise requiring a sacrifice on his own part, or that any possible end to be gained could compensate for the slightest interference with the perfect happiness of" the only Potentate." Nay, this is still the theoretical answer of many Christians. Yet how can such a theory bear one moment's reflection on the very centre of all our hopes, the Cross of Calvary ? We know something of what Jesus suffered there did his Father feel no longer sympathy for him? Was he just as happy when he was compelled to withdraw the light of his countenance, from the only begotten Son as he was before or after? Was he absolutely unmoved by the piercing cry, "My God! my God! why hast thou forsaken me ?" Did he feel precisely the same, when his Son died upon the Cross as when he rose from the tomb, or when he ascended up on high? Nay, to look farther back, did it constitute B no element in the Divine happiness, that "the Word was with God," from all eternity, "in the bosom of the Father ?" And if it did, was that supreme blessedness in no degree interfered with by the Son coming forth from the Father and entering this world of sin and sorrow? Was it just the same to that Father whether the Son was in his bosom or not? Granted, that the expression is in the highest degree figurative, and that we can form but the vaguest conception of the reality which it is meant to indicate; still it must be intended to convey some idea to our mind; and is that idea at all consistent with its being a matter of perfect indifference to either the Father or the Son whether that relative position remained unbroken or not? Furthermore, if we deny the possibility of the Creator making any real sacrifice, that is, of giving up even for a time any thing that formed part of his own blessedness, how are we to accept the fundamental principle of the Gospel, namely, that God so loved us as to be willing to make a very great sacrifice for us? It is there precisely that its power lies. And I believe that power is seriously diminished by the metaphysical notion, that it is impossible for God to give of that which costs him any thing, and that when he gives even his only begotten Son to take upon him the form of a servant, he is giving up absolutely nothing. If that is any one's real feeling, how can he be affected by the appeal, "Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us that we should be called the sons of God?" What is there to behold, if nothing that he did for us cost him the slightest effort, or interfered in the smallest degree with his own supreme happiness? Love is measured by the sacrifice that it is willing to make for the loved object. God's love to us may be ever so great, but we can have no measure of it whatever, if in the very nature of things it is impossible for him to make any sacrifice. The sufferings of Christ would prove that his human nature loved us greatly; but it is hard to see how they could show that God loved us, if the Divine nature could have no share in the suffering, even through sympathy. Besides, when speaking of "the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ," St. Paul reminds us that though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor." That cannot refer only to what his humanity suffered, for his humanity was never rich: it must include the whole of that great act of self-sacrifice, which began with leaving the bosom of his Father, and was finished on the Cross. The first part of that sacrifice was made not in his human but in his Divine nature; and how can it be called an act of " grace," or set before us as an example of self-sacrificing love, if it cost him nothing? In fact, this theory, that God cannot surrender any portion of his own happiness makes the Gospel a pure deception; and it is one of the many ways, in which false philosophy is such an enemy to the Cross of Christ. Again, we may ask, Is the Creator so utterly destitute of the least feeling for any of his creatures, as to be perfectly callous and unmoved at the sight of all the miseries they have to endure? Is he just as happy whether they are in the height of bliss or in the depth of wretchedness ? Surely, one would think, it must be enough to ask the question. And so it would, but for the preconceived theory that suffering is impossible to the Divine nature, and that while the great Potentate can inflict suffering to any extent upon others, he cannot bear one feather's weight of it himself. With this idea fixed in our minds, we read the Bible in a nonnatural sense. "God's thoughts," it is said "are not as our thoughts." Very true but the Bible labours to make us understand what some of his thoughts are; and if there be one of them about which it would seem to leave us in no doubt whatever, it is that God feels pity and compassion for us in our low estate. "He is full of compassion and tender mercy;" "Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him." How does a father pity his children? Is he just as happy when they are in pain as when they are not? Do their smiles and their tears affect him in precisely the same way ? Does he look on unmoved at all their joys and griefs? If so, then he does not pity them, he must be incapable of feeling compassion. The very word sympathy means feeling with; and if you deny that God can feel any thing except pleasure, you deny him the power of sympathising with his suffering creatures. And here again we incur serious loss from the philosophical speculation as to the Divine nature being incapable of suffering. The only explanation which has ever been given of perfect love remaining perfectly happy at the sight of suffering is, that its termination, and the good to be ultimately brought out of it are always present to the Infinite Mind; so that he regards the entire course of events from eternity to eternity as one great whole. There is no doubt a great truth embodied in this argument: but if that truth renders it impossible for God to make any real sacrifice, or to feel any pain, then, as already shown, the gospel is made of none effect. If looking forward to the end applies to one thing, it applies to another and on that theory the knowledge of what would result from the sacrifice of his Son must have prevented its being any sacrifice to him at all. He would have been pained by it if the final results had not been present to his mind, but as they were, he could only feel pleasure. In presence of the Gospel, this theory entirely breaks down; and I am thankful that it does: for, under suffering, I would much rather think that my Father can sympathise with me and does pity me. It is the greatest relief to know that through sympathy, and because of his loving nature, he can and does bear a measure of my suffering, and that while it lasts, or while any suffering lasts he never can be perfectly happy. The degree of pain endured by him from sympathy with us, is of course indefinitely less than what we feel, both because he is infinitely tronger, and because he can see the end with incomparably more distinct realisation. And we should be sorry that it were otherwise.. If you were writhing in anguish, you would be sorry to think that one whom you loved suffered from sympathy as much pain as yourself; but it would chill your heart to think that he could see you in such a state and feel no pain whatever. There is another point also in which we suffer loss from this false philosophy. What becomes of all the appeals that are made to us to do right from love to God, if it makes not the smallest difference to him whether we do right or wrong? "If ye love me," said Jesus, "keep my commandments." But why should loving him make us keep his commandments if he is just as happy whether we keep them or not? "Grieve not the Holy Spirit of God," is another injunction, which is reduced to nothing by the belief that he is incapable of being grieved. Such language is generally interpreted to mean that God will act as if he were grieved by our sin, that is, in some way punish us. But if so, then the appeal is wholly to our self-love, and not to our love towards God: we cannot hurt him, but we must take care not to hurt ourselves : he himself cares not the least whether we do right or wrong, as he is far above the reach of being affected by any thing that his creatures can do: yet, as he will reward us if we do right and punish us if we do wrong, it is better for our own interests to walk circumspectly. If you were moving about among the wheels of a gigantic machine, which might crush you to pieces without being itself in the least disturbed, you would look well to your steps, not from any regard to it, but solely from regard to yourself. Is this the tone of God's word to us in either the Old or the New Testament? It does indeed tell us plainly what must and will be the end of unrepented sin,-everlasting destruction: it declares plainly that he alone who doeth the will of God abideth for ever. But is that the foundation of its appeals to us? Nothing of the kind. The foundation is love. The first and great commandment is, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart;""The whole law is comprehended in one word, Thou shalt love;""Love is the fulfilling of the law." Now the theory, that God is incapable of being affected by the acts of his creatures utterly nullifies all this; for it is simply impossible to keep the law from love to One to whom it makes not a particle of difference whether you keep it or not it cuts up by the roots the whole of our revealed relationship to God, converting" the only Potentate " into an Almighty machine, which has just been kind enough to tell us that we had better not set ourselves in opposition to it, but with which any fellowship or interchange of feeling is quite impossible. The Supreme Ruler is thus represented as possessing either no heart at all, or at least a heart only capable of deriving pleasure equally from everything; a heart that is pleased alike when his creatures are happy and when they are miserable, when they do right and when they do wrong. He is well pleased with the righteous, and well pleased with the wicked; |