The common idea, then, is, that the justice of God consists in punishing sin: it is in the hope of giving a larger idea of the justice of God in punishing sin that I ask, “Why is God bound to punish sin?”
“How could he be a just God and not punish sin?”
“Mercy is a good and right thing,” I answer, “and but for sin there could be no mercy. We are enjoined to forgive, to be merciful, to be as our father in heaven. Two rights cannot possibly be opposed to each other. If God punish sin, it must be merciful to punish sin; and if God forgive sin, it must be just to forgive sin. We are required to forgive, with the argument that our father forgives. It must, I say, be right to forgive. Every attribute of God must be infinite as himself. He cannot be sometimes merciful, and not always merciful. He cannot be just, and not always just. Mercy belongs to him, and needs no contrivance of theologic chicanery to justify it.”
“Then you mean that it is wrong to punish sin, therefore God does not punish sin?”
“By no means; God does punish sin, but there is no opposition between punishment and forgiveness. The one may be essential to the possibility of the other. Why, I repeat, does God punish sin? That is my point.”
“Because in itself sin deserves punishment.”
“Then how can he tell us to forgive it?”
“He punishes, and having punished he forgives?”
“That will hardly do. If sin demands punishment, and the righteous punishment is given, then the man is free. Why should he be forgiven?”
“He needs forgiveness because no amount of punishment will meet his deserts.”
I avoid for the present, as anyone may perceive, the probable expansion of this reply.
“Then why not forgive him at once if the punishment is not essential—if part can be pretermitted? And again, can that be required which, according to your showing, is not adequate?” You will perhaps answer, “God may please to take what little he can have”; and this brings me to the fault in the whole idea.
Punishment is nowise an offset to sin. Foolish people sometimes, in a tone of self-gratulatory pity, will say, “If I have sinned I have suffered.” Yes, verily, but what of that? What merit is there in it? Even had you laid the suffering upon yourself, what did that do to make up for the wrong? That you may have bettered by your suffering is well for you, but what atonement is there in the suffering? The notion is a false one altogether. Punishment, deserved suffering, is no equipoise to sin. It is no use laying it in the other scale. It will not move it a hair’s breadth. Suffering weighs nothing at all against sin. It is not of the same kind, not under the same laws, any more than mind and matter. We say a man deserves punishment; but when we forgive and do not punish him, we do not always feel that we have done wrong; neither when we do punish him do we feel that any amends has been made for his wrongdoing. If it were an offset to wrong, then God would be bound to punish for the sake of the punishment; but he cannot be, for he forgives. Then it is not for the sake of the punishment, as a thing that in itself ought to be done, but for the sake of something else, as a means to an end, that God punishes. It is not directly for justice, else how could he show mercy, for that would involve injustice?
Primarily, God is not bound to punish sin; he is bound to destroy sin. If he were not the Maker, he might not be bound to destroy sin—I do not know; but seeing he