On Escaping Penalties

Frequently the question is asked: Just how effective is the threat of punishment in keeping men from doing things they should not do? To this, we must frankly answer that often the mere threat of punishment does not seem to be very effective—perhaps because so many men apparently are willing to gamble on the chance of avoiding punishment for their errors. In contemplating some misdeed, they often weigh the supposed pleasures against the possible penalties, and then they weigh the chances of escaping the penalties, and act accordingly. Especially would it seem that punishments which are postponed to a remote hereafter are often not very effective in causing men to give up the error of their ways. Heaven seems so far away—and that which seems to be remote may hold little fear for the present. But quite apart from the mere threat of remote punishment, it would be well to consider the absolute certainty of immediate punishment. Elbert Hubbard is accredited with saying: “Men are punished by their sins, not for them.” At least the first part of this statement is profoundly true—we are certainly punished by our sins. If we do something we shouldn’t do, even if no one else knows it, the gnawing accusation of our own conscience is one form of immediate and unavoidable punishment. The accusation of others is only intermittent, but our own inward accusation can be constant. It hangs as a backdrop to all that we do. Whatever thoughts we may think, always behind them is the suggestion of other accusing thoughts. Whatever hours we may sleep, always there is a chance of dreaming, and always there is the certainty of waking. There may be those whom we may think have “gotten away” with some misdeed without punishment, but if we think so, it is only because we do not know what goes on inside them. There is no misdeed which does not exact its own penalty, whether God or the agencies of men immediately choose to do so or not. There is no kind of malpractice, the consequences of which are reserved wholly for the hereafter. We may gamble on outsmarting the law; we may gamble on the seeming remoteness of heaven and its judgements; we may even gamble on the leniency of men and on the mercy of God—but no man ever won a gamble with his own conscience. Even should he think he has beaten his conscience into submission, his misdeeds still leave their marks upon him. There is nothing more certain in all the world than the certainty that very thought and act of our lives has its effect upon us, for good or ill, whether it is known to others or not—and anyone who gambles against this fact has already lost his gamble.