The Reward of the Saints by Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Oct 29, 1912

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 39, No. 42.

The Reward of the Saints

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

When Given

"ELL," declares Mr. Reckless, "if it is true that there is no such thing as an ever-burning hell, I think I will choose this world. It appeals to my ambition, and I am not sure of the next; so I would better enjoy this one."

Well, Mr. Reckless, you must make your own choice. God will not scourge any man into heaven. Those who enter through the pearly gates, will not be driven through by the stinging lash of fear.

It was love which made possible the wonderful sacrifice of Calvary, and love alone will people the many mansions of the New Jerusalem.

But what would be thought of one who was striving to win an earthly prize, were he to give up because he found that none were to suffer eternal torment because they did not succeed?

Does Mr. Reckless deliberately intend to choose death, when he loves life so fondly—even this life, that is compassed about with all the ills of time and sense? Will he turn his back upon the infinite love which has paid such a price for his redemption? Has he no desire to inherit the "many mansions" which are waiting for him? Is he willing to barter an eternity of joy such as pen of mortal can never describe, for a few brief years of toil and pain and disappointment and sin—and eternal death? Will it pay to do this?

What will be the reward of the finally faithful? Surely it must be an infinite reward, because it is prepared and presented by an infinite God, prompted by infinite love.

Yes; love prepares the mansions, and love alone will inhabit them. Love paid the price, and love will accept the offering. Love which is perfect "casteth out all fear;" and so we read that the "fearful and unbelieving" will have no lot in the eternal inheritance.

"But," you say, "heaven seems so far off and unreal to me! If I might only see the many mansions, as did the prophets of old! But all my ideas of that goodly land are so dim and vague! Or if only I might read a plain description of it from a real eye-witness, it would do me good."

Would it?

The Eternal City

Let us take our Bible and read slowly and carefully the last two chapters of the Book.

Notice what pains the Lord has taken to give us a vivid description of our inheritance. Look! There is an angel with a golden reed in his mighty hand. Watch him as he carefully measures the gleaming walls, and the massive gates, and the entire city. Ah, it will be large enough for that countless multitude whom no man can number—the redeemed of all the ages! They will each of them feel at home in the city, for each has a mansion. For almost two thousand long years the Master has been preparing them—and He is a cunning Workman.

Let us read further. Are you not astonished at the minute description of the wonders of this place? What dazzling beauty! What shining turrets! What astonishing foundations—in all the vivid and harmonious coloring of the rainbow! Look at the streets! They are beautifully paved, not with stone or brick or porcelain, nor even marble; they are paved with rarest gold. Observe the mighty walls. Why do they shine with that peculiar radiance? What gives them that glint and gleam like mellow sunlight?—"They are built of jasper," explains the angel.

But see those twelve massive foundations, each fashioned with consummate skill, and gleaming like the rainbow-circled throne. Sapphire and emerald and jacinth and amethyst!

Then behold the gates. The beloved seer has not forgotten to tell us just how many there are on each side, and the angel tells us even the very material of those gleaming gates.

We have read of some of the wealthy women of our large cities, possessing necklaces of pearls, and it is accounted something very wonderful. But the angel guide tells us that every one of these twelve massive, glittering gates is made of solid pearl. Think of it! The wealth of Golconda would not suffice to purchase one single gate.

To Outshine Sun and Moon

The light of the sun is too dim for this city. The silvery moon, wrapped in new garments of splendor, rides above it, but its light is not needed. The dazzling glory from the throne sheds its radiance upon the many mansions. And there are no dark places—no dreary shadows. The gates are never closed. There is no need; because there are no contending armies to lay siege to it, and no thieves nor robbers to attempt an assault. Death never lurks under those shining archways—there is no death.

Look at that wide-spreading tree. The fruit is more luscious than any of which old earth has ever boasted; nor did the prophet forget, in his astonishment, to count the varied kinds of fruit, but gives us the number.

Who could ask for a more minute description?

But best of all, we have the promise that "there shall be no more curse." "And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes." No wrinkled brows, no pain-drawn lips!

It is enough.

Wait—another promise still: "And there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain."

It Is for You

"But surely," says some timid, shrinking soul, "this is not for me. I am not worthy."

Hark! Like the music of ten thousand harp-strings comes the answer: "Worthy is the Lamb"!

"But tell me, is this inheritance for me? Am I invited to partake of these glories? I am poor. How can I purchase them?"

Listen! Adown the centuries rings a sweet and solemn voice: "Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price."

O, thank God! the poorest of us may come. The blessed wine and milk of salvation are free.

But lest some poor, discouraged soul might yet fail to understand, God has put one more broad, sweeping invitation on the very last page of the grand old Book: "And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And WHOSOEVER WILL, let him take the water of life freely."

The Loss Our Own Choosing

Reader, if you and I are lost, if we finally sink into the lake of fire, remember that it is of our own choice—our own free will. No man or woman has ever been foreordained to the lake of fire. How do I know?—Because there has never been nor ever will be a lake of fire "prepared" for any but "the devil and his angels."

O, shall we choose, voluntarily, to share it with them?

For Satan and his angels—the "fiery lake." For us—the "many mansions." Which will we have?

But when will this unspeakable glory be ours?—"Never," groans the atheist. "At death," whispers the Universalist. "The moment the breath leaves the body," smiles the Spiritualist. "As soon as the fires of purgatory have purified the soul," insists the papist.

"We can not tell!" cries a babel of voices from every land and every country. "We can not tell. It may be at death, and it may not be for millennia afterward. When we shall have progressed sufficiently, then, perhaps, we shall be glory-crowned."

But with anxious hearts, from all this babel of uncertainty, we turn our longing, tear-dimmed eyes toward the Master. He who spoke as never man spoke, will not disappoint us, and we can depend upon His answer. Hear Him, O ye sons of men, and let His answer be conclusive: "For the Son of Man shall come in the glory of His Father with His angels; and THEN He shall reward every man according to his works." "For thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just."

But O, the reward, the reward! Why should I dwell upon it? Tongue of angel can not describe it; lips of seer have but faintly portrayed it. Shall I not rather urge the necessity of a heart preparation for it? The mansions will be prepared for us; shall we be prepared for the mansions?

But O, my eyes fill with tears, and my bosom heaves with gratitude, that such provision has been made for me, and for all the suffering, sin-sick sons of men!

Ah, I can see by faith the gleams of glory from the city with its many mansions, I can see the gleaming splendor of the gem-garnished foundations, I can catch the scent of sweet spices from the garden of God; and my flesh and my heart cry out for it.

Ah, brighter than the tint Of sunset's gleam and glint, Shall shine the glorious tapestry of heaven.

"And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." Amen.