The Parousia--Part II
But neither can this explanation be accepted as satisfactory. Unquestionably the first Christians
did receive an immense impulse to their courage and zeal from their firm belief in the speedy advent
of the Lord; but was this a hope that after all made them ashamed? Must we conclude that the
indomitable courage and devotion of a Paul rested mainly on a delusion? Were the martyrs and
confessors of the primitive age only mistaken enthusiasts? We confess that such a conclusion is
revolting to all our conceptions of Christianity as a revelation of divine truth by the instrumentality of
inspired men. If the apostles misunderstood or misrepresented the teaching of Christ in regard to a
matter of fact, respecting which they had the most ample opportunities of information, what
dependence can be placed upon their testimony as to matters of faith, where the liability to error is so
much greater? Such explanations are fitted to unsettle the foundations of confidence in apostolic
teaching; and it is not easy to see how they are compatible with any practical belief in inspiration.
There is another theory, however, by which many suppose that the credit of the apostles is saved,
and yet room left for avoiding the acceptance of their apparent teaching on the subject of the coming
of Christ. This is, by the hypothesis of a primary and partial fulfillment of their predictions in their own
time, to be followed and completed by an ultimate and plenary fulfillment at the end of human history.
According to this view, the anticipations of the apostles were not wholly erroneous. Something really
did take place that might be called ‘a coming of the Lord,' ‘a judgment day.' Their predictions
received a quasi fulfillment in the destruction of Jerusalem and in the judgment of the guilty nation.
That consummation at the close of the Jewish age was a type of another and infinitely greater
catastrophe, when the whole human race will be brought before the judgment seat of Christ and the
earth consumed by a general conflagration. This is probably the view which is most commonly
accepted by the majority of expositors and readers of the New Testament at the present day. The
first objection to this hypothesis is, that it has no foundation in the teaching of the Scriptures. There is
not a scintilla of evidence that the apostles and primitive Christians had any suspicion of a twofold
reference in the predictions of Jesus concerning the end. No hint is anywhere dropped that a primary
and partial fulfillment of His sayings was to take place in that generation, but that the complete and
exhaustive fulfillment was reserved for a future and far distant period. The very contrary is the fact.
What can be more comprehensive and conclusive than our Lord's words, ‘Verily I say unto you,
This generation shall not pass, till ALL these things be fulfilled'? What critical torture has been
applied to these words to extort from them some other meaning than their obvious and natural one!
How has yeveà been hunted through all its lineage and genealogy to discover that it may not mean the
persons then living on the earth! But all such efforts are wholly futile. While the words remain in the
text their plain and obvious sense will prevail over all the glosses and perversions of ingenious
criticism. The hypothesis of a twofold fulfillment receives no countenance from the Scriptures. We
have only to read the language in which the apostles speak of the approaching consummation, to be
convinced that they had one, and only one, great event in view, and that they thought and spoke of it
as just at hand.
This brings us to another objection to the hypothesis of a double, or even manifold, fulfillment of
the predictions in the New Testament, viz. that it proceeds from a fundamentally erroneous
conception of the real significance and grandeur or that great crisis in the divine government of the
world which is marked by the Parousia. There are not a few who seem to think that if our Lord's
prophecy on the Mount of Olives, and the predictions of the apostles of the coming of Christ in glory,
meant no more than the destruction of Jerusalem, and were fulfilled in that event, then all their
announcements and expectations ended in a mere fiasco, and the historical reality answers very
feebly and inadequately to the magnificent prophecy. There is reason to believe that the true
significance and grandeur of that great event are very little appreciated by many. The destruction of
Jerusalem was not a mere thrilling incident in the drama of history, like the siege of Troy or the
downfall of Carthage, closing a chapter in the annals of a state or a people. It was an event which has
no parallel in history. It was the outward and visible sign of a great epoch in the divine government of
the world. It was the close of one dispensation and the commencement of another. It marked the
inauguration of a new order of things. The Mosaic economy,—which had been ushered in by the
miracles of Egypt, the lightnings and thunderings of Sinai, and the glorious manifestations of Jehovah
to Israel,—after subsisting for more than fifteen centuries, was now abolished. The peculiar relation
between the Most High and the covenant nation was dissolved. The Messianic kingdom, that is, the
administration of the divine government by the Mediator, so far, at least, as Israel was concerned,
reached its culminating point. The kingdom so long predicted, hoped for, prayed for, was now fully
come. The final act of the King was to sit upon the throne of His glory and judge His people. He
could then ‘deliver up the kingdom to God, even the Father.' This is the significance of the
destruction of Jerusalem according to the showing of the Word of God. It was not an isolated fact, a
solitary catastrophe,—it was the centre of a group of related and coincident events, not only in the
material, but in the spiritual world; not only on earth, but in heaven and in hell; some of them being
cognisable by the senses and capable of historical confirmation, and others not.
Perhaps it may be said that such an explanation of the predictions of the New Testament, instead
of relieving the difficulty, embarrasses and perplexes us more than ever. It is possible to believe in the
fulfillment of predictions which take effect in the visible and outward order of things, because we have
historical evidence of that fulfillment; but how can we be expected to believe in fulfillments which are
said to have taken place in the region of the spiritual and invisible when we have no witnesses to
depose to the facts? We can implicitly believe in the accomplishment of all that was predicted
respecting the horrors of the siege of Jerusalem, the burning of the temple, and the demolition of the
city, because we have the testimony of Josephus to the facts; but how can we believe in a coming of
the Son of man, in a resurrection of the dead, in an act of judgment, when we have nothing but the
word of prophecy to rely upon, and no Josephus to vouch for the historical accuracy of the facts?
To this it can only be said in reply, that the demand for human testimony to events in the region of
the unseen is not altogether reasonable. If we receive them at all, it must be on the word of Him Who
declared that all these things would assuredly take place before that generation passed away. But,
after all, is the demand upon our faith in this matter so very excessive? A large portion of these
predictions we know to have been literally and punctually fulfilled; we recognize in that
accomplishment a remarkable proof of the truth of the Word of God and the superhuman prescience
that foresaw and foretold the future. Could anything have been less probable at the time when our
Lord delivered His prophetic discourse than the total destruction of the temple, the razing of the city,
and the ruin of the nation in the lifetime of the existing generation? What can be more minute and
particular than the signs of the end enumerated by our Lord? What can be more precise and literal
than the fulfillment of them?
But the part which confessedly has been fulfilled, and which is vouched for by uninspired history,
is inseparably bound up with another portion which is not so vouched for. Nothing but a violent
disruption can detach the one part of this prophecy from the other. It is one from beginning to end—a
complete whole. The finest instrument cannot draw a line separating one portion which relates to that
generation from another portion which relates to a different and distant period. Every part of it rests
on the same foundation, and the whole is so linked and concatenated that all must stand or fall
together. We are justified, therefore, in holding that the exact accomplishment of so much of the
prophecy as comes within the cognisance of the senses, and is capable of being vouched for by
human testimony, is a presumption and guarantee in favour of the exact fulfillment of that portion
which lies within the region of the invisible and spiritual, and which cannot, in the nature of things, be
attested by human evidence. This is not credulity, but reasonable faith, such as men fearlessly
exercise in all their worldly transactions.
We conclude, therefore, that all the parts of our Lord's prediction refer to the same period and
the same event; that the whole prophecy is one and indivisible, resting upon the same foundation of
divine authority. Further, that all that was cognisable by the human senses is proved to have been
fulfilled, and, therefore, we are not only warranted, but bound to assume the fulfillment of the
remainder as not only credible, but certain.
As the result of the investigation we are landed in this dilemma: either the whole group of
predictions, comprehending the destruction of Jerusalem, the coming of the Lord, the resurrection of
the dead, and the rewarding of the faithful, did take place before the passing away of that generation,
as predicted by Christ, taught by the apostles, and expected by the whole church; or, else, the hope
of the church was a delusion, the teaching of the apostles an error, the predictions of Jesus a dream.
There is no other alternative consistent with the fair grammatical interpretation of the words of
Scripture. We may not tear the prophecy of Christ asunder, and arbitrarily decide, this is past, and
that is future; this is fulfilled, and that unfulfilled. There is no pretext for such a division in the record of
that discourse; like the seamless robe worn by Him who uttered it, it is all of one piece, ‘woven from
the top throughout.' The grammatical structure and the historical occasion alike imply the unity of the
whole prophecy. Neither is there any ‘verifying faculty' by which it is possible to distinguish between
one part and another as belonging to different periods and epochs. Every attempt to draw such lines
of distinction has proved a complete failure. The prophecy refuses to be so manipulated, and asserts
its unity and homogeneity in spite of critical artifice or violence. We are compelled, therefore, by all
these considerations, and chiefly by regard for the authority of Him whose word cannot be broken,
to conclude that the Parousia, or second coming of Christ, with its connected and concomitant
events, did take place, according to the Saviour's own prediction, at the period when Jerusalem was
destroyed, and before the passing away of ‘that generation.'
Here we might pause, for Scripture prophecy guides us no further. But the close of the æon is not
the end of the world, and the fate of Israel teaches us nothing respecting the destiny of the human
race. Whether we will or no, we cannot help speculating about the future, and forecasting the ultimate
fortunes of a world which has been the scene of such stupendous displays of divine judgment and
mercy. It will probably be felt by some to be an unwelcome conclusion that the Apocalypse is not
that syllabus of civil and ecclesiastical history which a mistaken theory of interpretation supposed it to
be. It will seem to them that the extinction of those false lights, which they took for guiding stars,
leaves them in total darkness about the future; and they will ask in perplexity, Whither are we
tending? What is to be the end and consummation of human history? Is this earth, with its precious
freight of immortal and eternal interests, advancing towards light and truth, or hurrying into regions of
darkness and distance from God?
Where nothing has been revealed it would be the height of presumption to prognosticate the
future. ‘It is not for us to know the times and the seasons which the Father hath put in his own
power.' It has been said that ‘the uninspired prophet is a fool,' and many instances approve the
saying. Yet thus much it may be permitted us to conclude: there is no reason to despair about the
future. There are some who tell us that as Judaism was a failure, so Christianity will be a failure also.
We are not persuaded of this; we regard it rather as an impeachment of the divine wisdom and
goodness. Judaism was never constituted to be a universal religion; it was essentially limited and
national in its operation; but Christianity is made for man, and has proved its adaptation to every
variety of the human family. It is indeed too true that the progress of Christianity in the world has
been lamentably slow; and that, after eighteen centuries, it has not succeeded in banishing evil from
the world, nor even from the regions where its influence has been most powerfully felt. Yet, after
every allowance for its shortcomings, it still remains the mightiest moral force ever called into
operation for purifying and ennobling the character of men. It is Christianity that differentiates the new
world from the old; the modern from the ancient civilisation. This is the new factor in human society
and history which may claim the largest share in the beneficent reformations of the past and to which
we may look for still greater results in the future. The philosophic historian recognizes in Christianity a
new power, which ‘from its very origin, and still more in its progress, entirely renovated the face of
the world.' * (Schlegel, Philosophy of History, Lect. x.)
Nor is there any symptom of decrepitude or exhaustion in the religion of Jesus after all the ages
and conflicts, and revolutions of opinion through which it has come. It has stood the brunt of the most
malignant persecution, and come off victorious. It has endured the ordeal of the most searching and
hostile criticism, and come out of the fire unscathed. It has survived the more perilous patronage of
pretended friends who have corrupted it into a superstition, perverted it into a policy, or degraded it
into a trade. While the enemies of the Gospel predict its speedy extinction, it enters on a new career
of conflict and victory. There is a perpetual tendency in Christianity to renew her youth, to regain the
ideal of her pristine purity, and defecate herself from the impurities and accretions which are foreign
to her nature. Never since the apostolic age were there greater vitality and vigour in the religion of the
Cross than today. This is the age of Christian missions; and while all the other religions of the world
have ceased to proselytise, and therefore to grow, Christianity goes forth to every land and nation,
with the Bible in her hand and the proclamation of the glad tidings in her mouth, ‘Believe in the Lord
Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.'
The true interpretation of New Testament prophecy, instead of leaving us in darkness, encourages
hope. It relieves the gloom which hung over a world which was believed to be destined to perish.
There is no reason to infer that because Jerusalem was destroyed the world must burn; or, because
the apostate nation was condemned, the human race must be consigned to perdition. All this sinister
anticipation rests upon an erroneous interpretation of Scripture; and, the fallacies being cleared away,
the prospect brightens with a glorious hope. We may trust the God of Love. He has not forsaken the
earth, and He governs the world on a plan which He has not indeed disclosed to us, but which we
may be well assured will finally evolve the highest good of the creature and the brightest glory of the
Creator.
It may, indeed, seem strange and unaccountable that we should now be left without any of those
divine manifestations and revelations which in other ages God was pleased to vouchsafe to men. We
seem in some respects farther off from heaven than those ages were when voices and visions
reminded men of the nearness of the Unseen. We may say, with the Jews of the captivity, ‘We see
not our signs: there is no more any prophet: neither is there among us any that knoweth how long ‘
Ps. 74:9).
Eighteen hundred years have rolled away since a voice was heard upon earth saying, ‘Thus saith
the Lord.' It is as if a door had been shut in heaven, and the direct intercourse of God with man were
cut off; and we seem at a disadvantage as compared with those who were favoured with ‘visions and
revelations of the Lord.' Yet, even in this we may not judge correctly. Doubtless it is better as it is.
The presence of the Holy Spirit with the disciples was declare |
