John Newton: Anticipating Life in Eternity
Today we continue our recent Sunday series with letters from John Newton’s Cardiphonia (Voice of the Heart). In this third “Letter to a Nobleman,” Newton considers what it will be like to live with an imagination and understanding that are not affected by sin. In this life he is frustrated by how the weaknesses of these two faculties inhibit his ability to understand truth—especially truth about God. But it will not be this way in eternity. In the second sentence of the letter he uses words that will be familiar to most hymn-singing Christians. Newtin’s hymn wasn’t published until 9 years after this letter—perhaps he had already written it, or perhaps this letter was part of his inspiration for it.
April 1770
My Lord,
I want to fill up my paper as I write to you, so I will dedicate this letter to the subject we talked about recently. Glorious things are spoken of the city of God (or, as I suppose, the state of glory) in Revelation 21, from verse 10 through the end of the chapter. The description is undoubtedly mystical, and it's likely that we will fully understand it only when we take part in it. There is one specific expression that has been hard to understand, even though wiser heads than mine have tried to explain it. “The street of the city was pure gold, like transparent glass."
Even in Greek the sentence construction is difficult. Some take it “pure gold as transparent as glass": this is the sense of the verse, but the adjective transparent should be in the neuter to agree with the word for gold. If the Greek text is accurate, we must understand it either of gold, pure, bright, and clear as the finest transparent glass (for not all glass is transparent), or else as two distinct comparisons—the streets are splendid and durable as the purest gold, and transparent as the finest glass. In that happy world, beauties and advantages which are divided and incompatible here will be united. Our glass is clear, but it is brittle; our gold is shining and solid, but it is opaque.
It is the same way with our minds. We can imagine all sorts of things, but the things that come into our imaginations are uncertain and passing. The powers of our understanding are more solid and regular, but they are at the same time more slow. They are limited, confined to the external properties of the few objects around us. But when we arrive within the veil, the things that are perfect about glass and gold will be combined, and each of their defects will cease. At that point we will know more than we can imagine. The glass will be completely gold. We will also be able to grasp truth by a single glance of thought—no longer by that tedious and fallible process that we call reasoning. We will perceive reality in the same way that our eyes see an object through even the thickest transparent body. The gold will be completely glass.
I am not saying that this is what the passage in Revelation means. I'm just sharing a thought that came to me once while I was reading it. Every day I am troubled by a sporadic, ungovernable imagination and a darkness of understanding that I can actually feel. Both of these weaknesses hinder my attempts to contemplate the truths of God. But these two burdens may not be exclusive to me. Maybe, to a greater or lesser degree, they are common to the whole human race and are sad proofs of our innate depravity. To some extent, God's grace does give us help in correcting the wildness of our imagination and enlarging our mind's capacities. For now, the cure only alleviates some of the suffering; but before long it will be a perfect cure.
In this life it costs us many pains to acquire the smallest degree of solid and useful knowledge. Even when we do learn new things, the ideas move around in our head like people in a crowd—constantly jostling and interfering with each other. But it will not be so when we are completely freed from the effects of sin. Confusion and darkness cannot follow us into the world where light and order reign. Then, and not till then, will our knowledge be perfect, and our grasp on it be uninterrupted and secure.
If the most basic powers of the soul are so weak and disordered, we shouldn't be surprised that the best of men, in the best of times, have felt the truth of the apostle's words— “When I would do good, evil is present with me." But may God be blessed—even though we have reasons every hour to feel shame and humiliation for what we are in ourselves, we have reasons for constant rejoicing in Christ Jesus.
Scripture reveals him to us through the different names, relationships, and offices that he holds. He holds out to us medicine for every wound, hope for every discouragement, and a sufficient answer to every objection that is brought against our peace by sin or by Satan. If we are guilty, he is our righteousness; if we are sick, he is our perfect physician; if we are weak, helpless, and defenseless, he is the compassionate and faithful Shepherd who has taken charge of us and will not allow anything to dash our hopes, or to separate us from his love. He knows our frame, He remembers that we are but dust [Psalm 103:14]. He has committed to guide us by his counsel, support us by his power, and in the end to receive us to his glory that we may be with him forever.
