Repentance

At the close of last Friday's address I quoted a statement from the Apocalypse Revealed, number 531, to the effect that man should explore himself in order that he might know and acknowledge his evils; that he should make himself guilty of them; that he should confess them before the Lord, and pray for aid to resist them, and so desist from them, and lead a new life, as of himself; that afterward s when sins recur he was to say to himself, "I will not do these things because they are sins against God." This is actual repentance.

A primitive doctrine of the Christian Church is that man is born subject to the original curse which fell upon Adam because of his disobedience, and that he must look for salvation to a miraculous operation of the Holy Spirit; to an instant filling of man by that Spirit, whereby his nature is changed. While man's salvation is, indeed, a miracle of mercy, yet this childlike faith in the instant operation of the Holy Spirit overleaped the intermediate stages of regeneration.

Yet there is in this primitive conception the high truth that the end is, in fact, involved in the beginning, and it is there in power.

Salvation, in this sense, is a gift—a reward of repentance; even of man's first repentance, which in subsequent states of temptation is brought into doubt by the oppressive presence of evil.

Nonetheless, the saving power of the Lord has found lodgment within man, and though hidden in times of temptation, yet it comes into active life and power as the need arises, or when its renewal is called for.

For all states of man's life are recurrent. Even as sins recur, so also does repentance.

But when the temptation of sins recurs, the mind questions its former repentance in terms of doubt as to its reality or its sincerity and depth; thus, as to whether there was a sincere confession of guilt before God, and prayer for help; or whether there was sufficient resistance to the infesting evil.

But as time passes, man realizes the truth that no depth of repentance can eradicate a single sin, or quite dissipate one evil.

He realizes the truth revealed that the Lord, through man's repentance, can only cover evil, but that what the Lord covers He subjects, i.e., places under His permanent power. And also that such covering is the sign of His forgiveness; and in the end the evil is forgotten by man. In this man finds peace.

As long as life lasts in the world, the recurrence of evil is permitted. This recurrence induces states of temptation. A revival of evil causes man to fall within the sphere of hell, and as if under its condemnation.

Yet it is only when evil is recurrent that man can be stirred to resist it in the name of the Lord.

It is in the presence of evil that the sorrow and the pathos of life is most keenly felt, i.e., in the presence of evil, not outside of, but within self.

In temptations it seems that there is no end to evil within, and no limit to its recurrence. Nonetheless, man, by repentance, binds to himself the essential power of salvation, and this though his repentance may have touched but superficially the surface of his evils, and but slightly loosened the death grip of that which is called his proprium.

In all things the truth holds that the beginning is significant of the end; and that the end in this beginning is there as an inner power confirmed, and this though evil continues its hold upon man.

The beginning of repentance marks a separation in man in a free state of mind—a separation which is in line with the division which Providence has placed between good and evil remains. Repentance confirms the distinction between the two lives, the good and the evil. It raises the good and depresses the evil. And insofar, the proprium stands beneath the new life which the Lord appropriates to man.

The recurrence of good and evil, and their sharp separation, one from the other, testify to the marvel of the Lord's Providence in the formation of the human structure.

Man is, indeed, wonderfully made, from the womb. The first breath of his life plants the dual seed of rational freedom and human individuality, and imparts therewith that strange gift of recurrence, which opens the way, step by step, to every attainment, every advance, natural or spiritual.

Man is born, even as an animal is born; but unlike every other animal he is born to be or become an intellectual ruminant. He is gifted with a memory which, like a stomach, casts up the food of a former eating, and at times a cud of bitter memories which induce states of mind called temptations; not so much defined thoughts as an unaccountable feeling of despair which is the essence of mental suffering.

In contrast with this is the recurrence of good—of innocent remains; but these the senses of man are dull to perceive; yet the arousal of such remains is felt as a quiet contentment, a rest from disturbance, and it may be, a touch of that peace which passes understanding.

While the past is revived in the present there is ever a new gift from the Lord, felt as a new issue of life and the record of a new decision for or against good or evil.

If not for this notable recurrence, man could not be raised above the status of his animal-like birth; a condition impossible to conceive.

Man is born as an animal, but he is a spirit, and as such, unlike an animal, he is not subject to the rule of death. The spirit rises from the grave; his life continues thereafter even as determined in kind and quality in the world.

In his first experiences after the material body is cast aside, there is, as we know, a recurrence of world memories, and along therewith a clarifying infestation, but this clarification implies no change in the prior determined direction of his life; it only accelerates it. This of spirits in the intermediate world.

But an angel may, on occasion, repeat some world-life experience; may reenact some former memory. Being human, there is, even with the angels, a tendency to reversion, but rarely are they let into particular memories. Their lapse is only into a shadow; their recurrence is into a gentle sadness, which quickly brightens.

Neither with the evil in their prison hells are world memories excited. Their former life is equally lost and normally beyond recall. Their contrast of states lies between the dull heaviness of night and a morning revival of pleasure in evil design.

Thus both with angels and infernal spirits life is recurrent in sign of their humanity; but their recurrences are of states apart from, and in place of, earthly memories; of states which are vivid, beyond our imagination, and highly concentrated. This is made possible by the lack of heavy recollections which would confine and constrain their living states. These states there stand clear and potent beyond anything known in this life.

This exposure of the inner life of spirits we may look up on as something of an ordeal; but all spirits, of whatever kind, go rejoicing on their way in the delight or that freedom of self-expression which can be given only after the death of the body and the sleep of its memories; a freedom which is unconstrained and unprevented.

The Lord wills freedom to all; to the angels the freedom of light and its life, and to the evil the freedom of their slavery.

While the end of regenerate life is involved in man's first rational repentance, and while Providence guards lest man should enter upon this way if he cannot be maintained therein—yet no man is certain as to this with regard to himself. As he surveys his life in the past he sees his record as inconclusive; his motives as mixed; his affections at best as short of an angelic standard. He perceives the presence of undeniable evil in the continuance of selfishness; and while he makes confession time and again, yet evil persists. He sees himself like the sheep of Laban—at best speckled and spotted, and at those times when there is a resurgence of his proprial life, as in temptation, his doubt, for the time, seems more than doubt; he is under the conviction of sin and the oppression of despair. How then may he see himself as saved?

The memory of oppressive temptation, like that of other states of mind, fades; but each experience of life, as it passes, brings an increase; his life ripens. The richness of life is a product of innumerable things forgotten which compose a deep soil out of which the spirit grows. Every event, every state, has its value, and the value remains for good or evil, and is heightened in its seeming death.

The complex of this imbedded influence is potent in swaying the present choice; but by virtue of the balance which the Lord provides, man may, by a conscious effort, overrule and become as if the master of his fate in making a new beginning.

Life in the world is given that such new beginnings may be made; while in the other life the provision is for an unlimited and progressive variation of the essential life which has here been confirmed.

The root of man's tree of life must be planted in the body of his flesh and blood. This is revealed to us that we may be earnest in repentance here, and persistent therein in the face of every temptation.

While the body of man falls into the grave, an inner vestment is raised; a superfine vestment which closely compasses his spirit, and upon which is written the totality of his past, an ever durable record which is held above every mischance, beyond the range of natural vision and below the spiritual sight. It is stamped with the hidden record of man's life, which may, however, in spiritual representations, be reproduced in case a lying spirit denies his world record in the day of his final judgment.

After the judgment this natural border recedes, and by its recession makes way for the purely spiritual to stand forth. This spiritual is the essential quality of the spirit whether good or evil, which stands forth to life in the after world as if in finality separated from the tangled web of man's world-life, in which good and evil are seemingly mixed.

In other words, this border structure holds the record of man's past life. It is as the book of his life, which, after the judgment, after the determination of his essential quality, is laid aside, lest memory of evil should tempt the good or the memory of the good should become a torment to the evil.

The final judgment in the spiritual world is but a summation—a final clearance. While in the world, life-recurrences out of the past are ever allowed. They are resurrections which call for vital decisions, for affirmation or rejection. They are essential judgments, effected in that state of life where the decision brings vital changes, and insofar alter the future course of life. It is here that the turning judgment takes place; here that life is converted from evil to good; here, therefore, is the opportunity which, if passed, is gone for ever.

Consider, therefore, that the thing is done here; that every real decision is here encountered and confirmed, and this on the basis of recurrences out of the past that are felt acutely as in the present. Thus it is that every state of temptation affords opportunity to the end that the resurgence of evil from a seemingly dead past may be consigned to a deeper death.

It is the like with the higher life attained, called spiritual, which has been imbedded in former confirmations of good. These, in this recurrence, open to yet higher attainments, to advanced issues of the life called spiritual.

Thus it is that step by step, and through state to state, man may be raised above his self-life as if by his own endeavor; but this only if accompanied by the confession that he is led in this upward movement by the light of revelation and the empowerment of God.

No one will deny the possibility of life's betterment with anyone—its improvement through training and experience; but what is not so clearly seen is the essential difference between natural culture and its refinement, and those spiritual qualities with which man is endowed by the Lord, when as a penitent he shuns evils as sins, and is steadfast in the worship and love of God.

The development of the finer appreciation of life's offerings in the world is, indeed, a natural benefaction; yet this at best is only natural, and may be but an exaltation of the original self-life whereby a deceptive imitation of spiritual qualities is put on. Indeed, a refinement of the senses—a keener appreciation of natural benefits—is a gift which, with the evil, invites a more subtle condemnation.

Religion, a true religion, is the deepest need of human life, and at no time is the need greater than at the end of an age; at the consummation of a church, when the minds of men wander in darkness, with no guide and no goal; when the old religious bonds have been discredited and fallen into disuse; when the fading worship of an unseen God leaves the world of men destitute of all save their own ingenuity and the prospective fulfillment of their own plans for life; all of which gives no clear outlook, and no guidance by that primary inspiration which from the beginning has raised the race out of its animal-like life; that inspiration which time and again has lifted the eyes of men to their Maker, and to a life beyond the grave, and called them to repentance for the remission of their sins.

A new inspiration is now at this time given to men; to as many as have ears to hear the call and eyes to see in the light of a new revelation, the saving truth which exposes the evil of the age and guides in the way of a new life—a new spiritual life beyond the reach of any natural attainment; beyond the reach of a spiritual death.

That which counts in life are the things that are loved. Consider, then, what things are loved. Weigh carefully all compelling affections which move us in this or that direction—our many affections and especially those that rule.

It must be that the man who loves the truths now revealed, thereby takes to himself the promise of a new life.  q