Stamp Eternity Upon My Eyes!

“Oh God, stamp eternity upon my eyeballs,”.

Surely the reverend must have prayed that prayer a dozen times already as he rode south through the Connecticut River Valley from his home in North Hampton, here to the town of Enfield.

Eternity was weighing heavily on his mind.  It always was.  It was the constant focus of this preacher’s intercession.

He didn’t know it then, nor could he, that this day was already marked for eternity—not only for the people of Enfield, but for America as well.

Enfield,much  like America today, was desperately in need of a spiritual awakening. The people had become complacent and drifted away from the very foundations that made them great.  They had little interest for the things of God.

This is what brought Edwards to Enfield.  This town for some reason had proven to be particular resistant to revival.  Edwards trusted that through persistent prayer and preaching the town of Enfield could be saved.

As Edwards arrived at the First Church of Christ he found His friend Eleazar Wheelock surprised to see him.  Wheelock wasn’t expecting Edwards until later in the week, but was glad to see him.

Though Eleazar had planned on preaching the service, he now thought it wise to take advantage of Edwards early arrival into town.  Perhaps Edwards could get the breakthrough up till now seemed allusive.

Together the two ministers entered the church and found people were already waiting.  The meeting house itself was a forty year old wooden structure that was large enough to hold over five hundred worshipers.

The crowd that gathered there seemed indifferent to the ministers.   Eleazar was taken back by their lack of civility.  Turning to Edwards he mumbled,  “Have they no decency?”

Edwards sat down on a wooden pew in the front of sanctuary and began looking through his leather satchel for a message.

Edwards could have chosen any of the dozens of messages, but his fingers seemed drawn to a particular manuscript.   It was entitled, “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.”  He paused as he considered the message.  He had only preached it once before to his own congregation in North Hampton.  That time it fell on deaf ears and had no , affect.  The message had sat idle ever since.  However this evening he felt compelled to take it out and share it once more.

Turning to Edwards and finding the minister at the ready, Wheelock introduced the pastor from North Hampton, Reverend Jonathan Edwards. Edwards solemnly rose from his seat and approached the pulpit with his manuscript in one hand, a candle in the other.

In typical facsion, Jonathan Edwards wasted no time.  He greeted the congregation with a few words and then offered his text  Deuteronomy 32:35 to which Edwards read aloud, “Their foot shall slip in due time.”

Edwards wasn’t a loud or emotional preacher.  Nor was he timid.  He chose each of his words carefully and spoke with such distinctness and precision that he commanded the attention of his audience.  Within moments they quickly fell captive to his smooth but convicting voice.

Wheelock couldn’t help but note Edwards affect upon the church.  “How had he done it,” he thought to himself.  Edwards had their full attention.  It seemed as if Edwards had somehow hypnotized them.  It was certainly a wonder to behold.  The message itself went beyond anything he had ever heard his friend preach.

Though he spoke in a peaceful manner, his words themselves were sharp.  They fell with great weight upon the minds of the audience.  Like a skilled surgeon with his knife, the master orator had  already begun his work.

“The bow of God’s wrath is bent, and the arrow made ready on the string, and justice bends the arrow at your heart, and strains the bow, and it is nothing but the mere pleasure of God, and that of an angry God, without any promise or obligation at all, that keeps the arrow one moment from being made drunk with your blood.”

Oh how painful his words were to the unrepentant.  like hot molten steel upon the flesh.  The preacher himself stood deathly still behind the pulpit.  He read straight from his notes, rarely lifting his head.  The few times he did look up, he stared towards the back of the room to one fixed spot.  It was only then, that you could see the tears that flowed from his eyes. He continued.

“The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider, or some loathsome insect, over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked; his wrath towards you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire; he is of purer eyes than to bear to have you in his sight; you are ten thousand times so abominable in his eyes as the most hateful venomous serpent is in ours.”

The impact of these words now brought a freighting revelation upon the room.  Religious, backslidden and worldly men and women who gathered that day suddenly realized they were each horribly doomed. They winced as if in great pain and discomfort.  Some could no longer hold back the tears and began to weep.  Even still, Edwards continued to press,

“You have offended him infinitely more than ever a stubborn rebel did his prince: and yet ’tis nothing but his hand that holds you from falling into the fire every moment.”

The stillness and the quietness in the room broke.  People began to moan and cry out from their seats.  “What must I do to be saved?” one cried out!  Others screamed as if they feared for their very lives.

Edwards paused to quiet the crowd.  Once he had regained their attention he continued,

“tis to be ascribed to nothing else, that you did not go to hell the last night…but that God’s hand has held you up: there is no other reason to be given why you hadn’t gone to hell since you have sat here in the house of God, provoking his pure eyes by your sinful wicked manner of attending his solemn worship: yea, there is nothing else that is to be given as a reason why you don’t this very moment drop down into hell. Oh sinner! Consider the fearful danger you are in.”

A woman yelled to the preacher, “Oh I am going to hell!  What shall I do for Christ?”

Edwards stopped again and asked for silence, but to no avail. The shrieks and cries continued to grow as the preacher continued to ask for their attention.  The commotion in the room had reached a fever pitch. Cries and shouts of sheer terror filled the room and were heard throughout the surrounding streets.

Many had taken a firm hold of their seats for fear of falling straight through the floor .  They were convinced they were sliding down into the pits of hell itself.  They clawed at the wood pews in front of them digging their nails deep into the wood.  Others clung to one another like a man drowning in deep water.  Some fell to the ground as if they were brought down by an axe.  They lay motionless upon the floor.  Those that once stood now clung to the posts of the church believing the ground beneath them was giving way.  Edwards had done it.  Enfield had finally been humbled.

Edwards could not finish his sermon.  His heavenly inspired words had their effect and had cut so deeply that the people needed individual attention.  He abandoned the pulpit and enlisted the other ministers in the room to begin to console the grieving congregation.  One by one they prayed with those who mourned until they found relief at the glorious cross.

The meeting continued late into the night.  As the hours passed the atmosphere in the room slowly shifted.  The weeping and groaning gave way to peace as each soul met Christ’s saving grace.

That night as the service concluded, Edwards knew that eternity had profoundly affected the town of Enfield. What he couldn’t see was how that night was also destined to set eternity upon the eyes of a nation. News about the revival in Enfield began to spread like a flame across paper. Copies of Edwards’s message were quickly printed and distributed across all the colonies.

How is it that a humble, solemn man like Edwards was used to move an entire nation to awakening? It’s simple—he had eternity set before his eyes!

It is said that amongst Edwards unusual habists, was a collection of gem stones he kept in his pocket.  From time to time, he might be seen

Edwards prayed, “Oh God, stamp eternity upon my eyeballs.” What might happen if you and I were so bold as to pray a similar prayer? What if you asked God to forever stamp eternity before you? How might each second of every day be affected if it was counted with eternity firmly fixed in view? What would change? I imagine a great deal.

Edwards prayed, “Oh God, stamp eternity upon my eyeballs.” What might happen if you and I were so bold as to pray a similar prayer? What if you asked God to forever stamp eternity before you? How might each second of every day be affected if it was counted with eternity firmly fixed in view? What would change? I imagine a great deal.

become a causality of their short-sightedness. This is exactly where America was before the First Great Awakening. Edwards brought a revelation of eternity and awakened a sleeping nation. Oh, how this nation needs such a divine revelation again. America sleeps as she slips further into the dark abyss of sin. Open our eyes, God! Stamp eternity upon our eyes! Give us a revelation of eternity!

• Enfield
• Jonathan Edwards
• Sinners In The Hands Of An Angry God

Daniel

Daniel is a true son of revival who is continuing in the footsteps of his mentor bringing the message of revival and repentance to the nations. He is an international evangelist and best selling author, founder and head of Daniel K Norris Ministries and the ThreeHundred.