fulfilled — and partly unfulfilled.
1. Some good men tell us confidently that the whole book is entirely unfulfilled. They look for an accomplishment of its visions so clear and unmistakable, that there shall be no room left for doubt.
2. Other good men assure us, with no less confidence, that the whole book is already fulfilled, with the exception of a small portion at the end.
3. A third school of expositors maintains that the Revelation is partly fulfilled — and partly unfulfilled.
As to the details of the book, the meaning and application of the several visions it contains, the fulfillment of times and seasons, time would fail if I were to recount the various interpretations that have been put forth and the errors that have been committed.
Now, what shall we say to these things? What can the advocate for Apocalyptic study reply to these undeniable facts? My reply is, that the variations and mistakes in the views of interpreters, constitute no argument against the study of the book itself. Because others have missed the road in searching for truth — you and I are not to give up the search altogether and sit down in contented ignorance.
Who has not heard of the extravagant and contradictory theories which astronomers, geologists, and physicians have occasionally propounded in their respective sciences? Yet who would think of giving up astronomy, geology, or medicine in despair, because of the conflicting tenets and avowed mistakes of their professors? Luther and Zwingle differed widely about the Lord's Supper. Cranmer and Hooper differed widely about vestments. Wesley and Toplady differed widely on predestination. Yet no one in his senses would think of giving up the study of the Christian system because these good men could not agree.
My answer furthermore is, that the very mistakes and differences of Apocalyptic interpreters, are not without their use. They have cleared the field in many a direction and shown us what the Revelation does
not mean. Expositors have shown in many cases, the weakness of other men's interpretation — even if they have not succeeded in establishing their own. To know what an unfulfilled Scriptural prediction does not mean, is one step towards knowing what it does mean.
When Napoleon was overtaken by the rising tide in a dark evening on the sandy shore of the Red sea, he is said to have ordered his attendants to disperse and ride in different directions, charging each one to report as he proceeded whether the water grew shallower or deeper. There was great wisdom in that order. Each man's report was useful. The report of him who found the water deepening was in its way as useful as the report of the successful finder of the right path.
It is much the same with the widely varying explanations of Revelation. It is evident that many of them must be wrong. But all in their way have done good. There is hardly one, perhaps, which has not contributed some sparks of light.
My answer beside this is, that the differences of Apocalyptic interpreters, as great as they undoubtedly are, are often magnified and absurdly exaggerated. The common points of agreement among expositors are more in number and greater in importance, than men commonly suppose.
Whether the seals, trumpets, and vials are fulfilled or not — all students of the Revelation agree that there are judgments predicted in it on the unconverted and unbelieving. Whether days mean literal days, as some say, or years, as others say — all are agreed that the time of the wicked triumphing is defined, limited, and fixed by the counsels of God. Whether the beast with horns like a lamb is the Papal power or not, nearly all are agreed that Romish apostasy is foretold in the book, and doomed. Whether Christ shall come and reign visibly on earth or not, for 1000 or 365,000 years — all are agreed that He shall come again with power and great glory, that the kingdoms of this world shall sooner or later become the kingdoms of
our God, and that all believers should look and long for their Lord's return.
I doubt much whether this point is as much considered by the opponents of Apocalyptic study as it deserves. I grant them freely that the divergences and contrarieties of the paths drawn out by the expositors of the book are very many and very great. But, I bid them remember that the great terminus towards which all their lines lead is always one and the same. Oh, that men would remember that mighty terminus, and realize the tremendous importance of the end and breaking up of all things towards which they hasten! Then would they be more anxious to study any book which handles matters like those contained in Revelation. Then would they be less ready to catch at any excuse for declining Apocalyptic study.
The only remaining objection to the study of Revelation which I shall notice, is that which is drawn from the mysterious character of a large portion of the book. That the Revelation is full of dark and difficult things, it is of course impossible to deny. Some of its symbols and emblems, the Spirit of God has thought good to interpret and explain. The seven stars, the seven candlesticks, the incense, the fine linen, the waters on which the woman sat, the woman herself — all these and a few more are expounded, perhaps as a specimen of the kind of meaning which should be attached to the symbols of the book generally.
But, after every deduction, there remain a very large number of visions and emblems which the Spirit has not thought fit to interpret. These symbols are unquestionably dark and mysterious. It is not, perhaps, saying too much to admit that after all the attempts of commentators, ancient and modern, preterist and futurist — there are many visions and symbols of Revelation which, we must confess, we do not understand! I do not say that elaborate and learned expositions of them have not been offered — but not expositions so manifestly satisfactory that we can demand a reader's assent to them.
If truth be spoken, we must allow that all the expositions of some parts of the Revelation are nothing better than ingenious conjectures. We admire them as we read. We are not prepared to say that they are not true, or to furnish a reason for refusing our assent. But still they fail to carry conviction with them. We somehow feel the mark is not yet hit, the spring of the lock is not yet touched, the whole truth is not yet discovered.
But I appeal to the common sense of men and their sense of fairness, and I ask them whether they have a right to expect that such a book as the book of Revelation can in the very nature of things — be anything but dark and mysterious. Here is a prophetic book which spans the mighty gulf between the end of the first century — and the day of judgment; a book which was given to show God's dealings with the Church and the world during a space of well night 2000 years; a book which points to the rise and fall of empires and kingdoms, with all the attendant wars and tumults over a third part of the habitable globe; a book, above all, which does not tell its story in simple, plain matter of fact narration, but clothes it in majestic visions, symbols, emblems, figures, and similitudes.
Here are we reading this book during a life of three score and ten years at most, with all the cares and anxieties of this world pressing upon us, with an understanding partaking in the corruption of the fall, with a heart naturally earthly and sensual, and, even after conversion, weak and deceitful, knowing little of ourselves, knowing little of contemporary history, finding constantly how hard it is to discover the real truth about events happening in our own day.
Is it likely, I ask, is it probable, is it agreeable to common sense — that such students, coming to such a book — should find it anything but mysterious and hard to understand? Can anyone doubt as to the reply? The plain truth is, that we are like children watching some mighty building in process of erection. They see a thousand operations which they are utterly unable to comprehend or explain. They see scaffolding and stones, and iron and brick, and mortar and
timber, and rubbish. They hear noise, and hammering, and cutting, and chipping. It seems to their eyes, to be a vast scene of hopeless confusion. And yet to the eye of the architect — all is order, system, and progress. He sees the end from the beginning. He knows exactly what is going on.
It is much the same with us in trying to pass a judgment on the application of many of the Apocalyptic visions. We are like those who stand on the outward surface of a sphere. The range of our mental vision is exceedingly limited. We know so little and see so little beyond our own circle, the very pages of history are so often full of inaccuracies and lies — that we are really very poor judges of the question whether such and such visions have been fulfilled or not.
More light, I firmly believe, may yet be expected before the end come. Much may probably be yet unfolded and unsealed. But as to any certainty about the meaning of all parts of the Apocalypse — when I see how little certainty there is about anything 1000 miles from us in distance, or 100 years in time — I own I do not look for it until the Lord comes.
And here let me turn for a moment to those who secretly wonder why the Book of Revelation was not written more plainly, and why things of such vast interest to the Church have been purposely clothed in the mysterious garb of symbol, allegory, and vision. I might easily remind such people of Bishop Sherlock's remark on this very point: "To inquire why the ancient prophecies are not clearer is like inquiring why God has not given us more reason, or made us as wise as the angels."
But I have no wish to leave them there. I would rather use an argument which has often proved satisfactory to my own mind, and silenced the speculative questionings of a curious spirit. I ask you then, whether you cannot see wisdom and mercy in the darkness which it has pleased God to throw around the prophetic history of
His Church? You wonder in your own heart, why the things to come were not more clearly revealed.
But, consider for a moment how fearfully deadening and depressing it would have been to the early Christians, if they had clearly seen the long ages of darkness and corruption which were to elapse before the Lord returned. Reflect for a moment how much unhappiness primitive believers were spared, by not knowing for certain, the events which were to take place. If humble saints in the days of imperial persecution could have dreamed of the eighteen weary centuries during which the saints were yet to wait for their Lord from Heaven — they might almost have sat down in flat despair.
If Polycarp had foreseen the present state of Asia Minor, or Ignatius that of Syria, or Chrysostom that of Constantinople, or Irenaeus that of France, or Athanasius that of Egypt, or Augustine that of Africa — their hands might well have trembled and their knees waxed faint. Count up, I say, the dark and painful pages of which there are so many in the annals of Church history. Set down in order the heresies, and false doctrines, and apostasies of which there has been such a rank growth, Arianism, and Romanism, and Socinianism, and Neologianism, and their kindred errors. Place before your mind's eye the centuries of ignorance and superstition before the Reformation, and of coldness and formality since Luther's generation passed away. Count up the crimes which have been perpetrated in the name of Christianity, the massacres, the burnings, the persecutions within the Church, not forgetting the Albigenses, the Spanish Inquisition, the slaughter of the Huguenots, and the fires of Smithfield.
Do all this faithfully, and I think you will hardly avoid the conclusion that it was wise mercy which drew so thick a veil over things to come! Wise mercy showed the early Christians a light in the distance — but did not tell them how far it was away. Wise mercy pointed out the far off harbor lights — but not the miles of stormy sea between. Wise mercy revealed enough to make them work, and hope, and wait. But wise mercy did not tell all that was yet to be fulfilled before the end.
Who thinks of telling his little children, in their early years, every trial and pain and misery which they may have to go through before they die? Who thinks of filling their tender ears with the particulars of every bodily disease they may have to endure, and every struggle for success in life in which they may have to engage? Who thinks of harrowing up their young souls by describing every bereavement they may have to submit to, or speaking at length on every deathbed they may have to watch? We do not do it, because they could not understand our meaning, and could not bear the thought of it if they did!
And just so, it seems to me, does the Lord Jesus deal with His people in the Apocalyptic vision. He keeps back the full revelation of all the way they must go through, until the time when He sees they can bear it. He considers our frame. He teaches and reveals, as we are able to bear.
In reply to those who object to the study of Revelation, there is, after all, no argument so powerful as the simple promise of the Word of God. The predictions of Revelation may seem to many improbable and absurd. The differences and mistakes of interpreters may fill others with disgust and dislike, to the very name of Apocalyptic study. The acknowledged mysteriousness and confessed difficulties of the book may incline many to shrink from perusing it.
But there the book stands — a part of those Scriptures which are all given by inspiration and all profitable. And there on the forefront of the book, stands a promise and an encouragement to the reader and hearer: "Blessed is he who reads — and they who hear." These words, no doubt, were spoken in foresight of the objections that men would raise against the study of the book. Give these words their full weight. Fall back on them when all other arguments fail. They are a reserve which will never give way. God has said it — and will make it good. "Blessed is he who reads, and they who hear the words of the prophecy of this book!"