Hell Can’t Quench Heaven’s Joy
Hell Can’t Quench Heaven’s Joy
Excerpted from “No Tears in Heaven”
Sermon #643, August 6, 1865
Not one to shy away from difficult topics, Spurgeon tackles two troubling realities in this sermon: first, that some people we don’t much care for will be in Heaven and, second, that some people we love will be in Hell.
[The rich man called to Abraham], “Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the end of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am in anguish in this flame.” But Abraham said, “Child, remember that you in your lifetime received your good things.” . . . And [the rich man] said, “Then I beg you, father, to send him to my father’s house—for I have five brothers—so that he may warn them, lest they also come into this place of torment.” But Abraham said, “They have Moses and the Prophets; let them hear them.” And [the rich man] said, “No, father Abraham, but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.” [Abraham] said to [the rich man], “If they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead.”
Luke 16:24-25, 27-31
Perhaps another source of tears may suggest itself to you, namely sorrow in Heaven for our mistakes, misrepresentations, and unkindness toward other Christian brothers and sisters.
How surprised we will be to meet some saints in Heaven whom we did not love on Earth! We would not fellowship with them at the Lord’s Table. We would not acknowledge that they were Christians. We looked at them suspiciously if we saw them in the street. We suspected their zeal as being nothing better than a show and an exaggeration, and we looked on their best efforts as having sinister motives at the heart. We said many unkind things and felt a great many more than we said.
When we see these unknown and unrecognized brothers and sisters in Heaven, won’t their very presence naturally remind us of our offenses against Christian love and spiritual unity? I can’t imagine a perfect man looking at another perfect man without regretting that he ever treated him in an unkind manner.
I am sure as I walk among the saints in Heaven, I cannot (in the natural order of things) help feeling, I did not assist you as I ought to have done. I did not sympathize with you as I ought to have done. I spoke a harsh word to you. I was alienated from you. And I think you would all have to feel the same; inevitably you must. If it were not that by some heavenly means, and I don’t know how, the eternal God will so overshadow believers with the abundant bliss of his own self that even that cause of tears will be wiped away.
Has it never struck you, dear friends, that if you go to Heaven and see your dear children left behind unconverted, it would naturally be a cause of sorrow?
My mother told me that if I perished in Hell, she would have to say “Amen” to my condemnation. I knew it was true and it sounded awful, and it had a good effect on my mind.
It really is a very terrible spectacle—the thought of a perfect being looking down in Hell, for instance, as Abraham did, and yet feeling no sorrow. For you will remember that, in the tenor in which Abraham addresses the rich man, there is nothing of pity; there is not a single syllable which indicates any sympathy with him in his dreadful woes. And one does not quite comprehend that perfect beings, God-like beings, beings full of love and everything that constitutes the glory of God’s complete nature, would still be unable to weep, even over Hell itself. They cannot weep over their own children lost and ruined!
Now, how is this? If you will tell me, I will be glad, for I cannot tell you. I do not believe that there will be one bit less tenderness, that there will be one fraction less of friendliness, love, and sympathy—I believe there will be more—but that they will be in some way so refined and purified that while compassion for suffering is there, hatred of sin will be there to balance it, and a state of complete equilibrium will be attained.
Perfect acceptance of the divine will is probably the secret of it, but it is not my business to guess. I don’t know what handkerchief the Lord will use, but I do know that he will wipe away every tear from their eyes.
How could we enjoy Heaven knowing that a loved one is in Hell? Spurgeon isn’t the only one to puzzle over this question.
Although it may sound harsh, I offer this thought: in a sense, none of our loved ones will be in Hell—only some whom we once loved. Our love for our companions in Heaven will be directly linked to God, the central object of our love. We will see him in them. We will not love those in Hell because when we see Jesus as he is, we will love only—and will want to love only—whoever and whatever pleases and glorifies and reflects him. What we loved in those who died without Christ was God’s beauty we once saw in them. When God forever withdraws from them, I think they’ll no longer bear his image and no longer reflect his beauty. Therefore, paradoxically, in a sense they will not be the people we loved.
I cannot prove biblically what I’ve just stated, but I think it rings true, disturbing as it is. The reality of Hell should break our hearts and take us to our knees—and to the doors of those without Christ. Today, however, Hell has become “the H word,” seldom named, rarely talked about, even among those who believe the Bible. It doesn’t even appear in many evangelistic booklets. To our modern sensibilities, Hell seems disproportionate, a divine overreaction.
Many people imagine that it is civilized, humane, and compassionate to deny the existence of an eternal Hell. But in fact, it is arrogant that we, as creatures, would dare to make such an assumption in opposition to what God the Creator has clearly revealed. Perhaps we don’t want to believe that others deserve eternal punishment, because if they do, so do we. But by denying the endlessness of Hell, we minimize Christ’s work on the cross. Why? Because we lower the stakes of redemption.
If we truly understood God’s nature and ours, we would be shocked not that some people could go to Hell (where else would sinners go?) but that any would be permitted into Heaven. If Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection don’t deliver us from an eternal Hell, his work on the cross is less heroic, less potent, less consequential, and thus less deserving of our worship and praise. As theologian William G. T. Shedd puts it, “The doctrine of Christ’s vicarious atonement logically stands or falls with that of eternal punishment.”a
What Spurgeon’s mother told him—that she would have to say “Amen” to his condemnation if he did not repent—is remarkably similar to J. I. Packer’s difficult but biblical perspective:
God the Father (who now pleads with mankind to accept the reconciliation that Christ’s death secured for all) and God the Son (our appointed Judge, who wept over Jerusalem) will in a final judgment express wrath and administer justice against rebellious humans. God’s holy righteousness will hereby be revealed; God will be doing the right thing, vindicating himself at last against all who have defied him. . . . (Read through Matt. 25; John 5:22-29; Rom. 2:5-16; 12:19; 2 Thess. 1:7-9; Rev. 18:1–19:3; 20:11-15, and you will see that clearly.) God will judge justly, and all angels, saints, and martyrs will praise him for it. So it seems inescapable that we shall, with them, approve the judgment of persons—rebels—whom we have known and loved.b
Of this we may be absolutely certain: Hell will have no power over Heaven, and none of Hell’s misery will ever diminish any of Heaven’s joy.
a W. G. T. Shedd, The Doctrine of Endless Punishment (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1986), 153.
b J. I. Packer, “Hell’s Final Enigma,” Christianity Today (April 22, 2002): 84.
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