EXPERIENCE NUMBER 9
I was brought up by Christian parents, that is, they were strict church-going people; but I never knew what it was to have a change of heart, though I feared God and did at times try to draw near to him.
It was after I graduated from school that I met those who believe in living holy lives. I was very much impressed with them, but I did not give my heart to God at that time. I continued to meet them and after some months became convicted that I was a sinner and under the wrath of God. Having attended church and Sunday-school from childhood, I had considered myself a Christian; but when the Bible standard was lifted up before me, I soon saw my true condition.
One day while alone I yielded myself fully to God, and he received me into his family. I did not know at that time, though I was very happy in my new-found love, what a treasure I had really found; butthe eighteen years I have already spent in His service verifies to me that the path of the righteous shineth more and more unto the perfect day.
A spirit of love and gratitude begets a spirit of service. I wanted to do something for God, so began visiting the sick. Soon I felt a desire to go into the work of the Lord, but this step was much opposed in my home, my family having had a life of worldly honor mapped out for me. I waited, hoping a way would open for me to go, but it seemed my friends were becoming more opposed to the life I had chosen. I was forced to leave home against the wishes of my friends, especially my dear mother, but I see more clearly now than I did then that God's hand was in it and that he was leading me.
Mother was so displeased that she took steps to disinherit me, but afterwards, through the persuasion of others, she relented. She also forbade me the privilege of returning home, but in this she also relented. I wondered at this change in mydear mother, who was one of the best of mothers, for this new life I had received seemed to have made a great gulf between us. It certainly had made a marked change in the once rebellious, self-willed girl, and I could not understand why my mother, who had spent many anxious moments because of my wilfulness, was not rejoicing instead of opposing me. I now see that my course thwarted her worldly ambitions for me; hence the bitterness.
I had spent a number of years working for the Master, which were very profitable and beneficial to my soul. To me it was like God's training-college. My mother came to visit me sometimes, vainly hoping I would return with her. She told me that if I would just return home she would buy me worldly vanities, such as fine dresses, etc., which I had once loved. She could not understand when I told her I did not want them any more. She even told me I could receive the attentions of a certain young man who for her sake I had once refused. But that fancy also had been removed farfrom me, and I praised God as I explained to her what a change had been wrought in me.
About one year after this my mother had a severe nervous attack. She came to where I was living, saying that she wanted to make her peace with God and die. Some ministers and I had prayer with her, and God graciously pardoned her soul. Oh the joy that filled my heart when I saw my dear mother humble herself before the Lord! She not only received pardon, but received a divine touch in her body also. She became a bold witness before all our friends and relatives to what God had done for her. It seemed she could never praise him enough. Though she was a woman of very strong character and personality, she became as gentle and teachable as a little child. Her nature seemed to be entirely changed. While I write this, tears of gratitude flow because of the greatness of God's salvation. She spent a few happy months here below, and then God took her.
EXPERIENCE NUMBER 10
It was a warm, sultry morning late in December. The tropical air was scarcely fanned by a breeze. The missionary heard the peculiar tapping of the postman at the gate and hurried to get his morning mail. He took the single letter that was handed him, and with a pleasant nod to the postman broke the seal as he stepped back to the veranda.
It was a long letter; so before reading it the man sank into a chair and glanced away to the gleaming sea; but meeting only the dazzling light there, he let his eyes rest upon the distant blue-green mountains for a moment. Then for some time he was occupied with the contents of this lengthy letter. It was written in a neat, scholarly manner, and the missionary noted it all as he read.
As he finished reading, a bright-faced woman came through the garden with a baby in her arms. "Come here, Jennie," hesaid; and his wife came quickly to him. "Here is a letter, Jennie, that requires very careful answering. You know how busy I am; so I will commit this into your care. This person, a Mr. K. L. Jones, has asked many questions on the church and other points of doctrine." He looked up as he spoke, and, finding the baby holding out its chubby arms to him, he took it and handed the letter to his wife.
Thoughtfully she took it and began reading. She loved to write letters, and this, she felt, was her special part of the work. But here she perceived she had a task that was very difficult; for the writer, evidently a scholar, had put forth a dozen numbered questions that must be carefully answered or this dear soul would be hindered from walking in the truth. God would give the needed wisdom, she knew, and she folded the letter back into its envelope and sat meditating on the different points he had raised. After a while, she asked:
"How was the meeting last night?"
"Very good! Brother Owen spoke, andhe did very well indeed. He used the text: 'Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples.' Several came forward for help afterwards. Ah, by the way, do you remember Sister Tilton? She was out to meeting last night."
"Sister Tilton? She must be a new sister!"
"Ah, well, perhaps we did not tell you about her. This young girl came to meeting once some time ago, but afterwards became very ill. Her folks wanted the doctor for her, but she refused, not telling them why. But as her sickness increased, they became alarmed and insisted on calling the doctor. But the girl still refused the medicine. The doctor said she would probably not live. Her people begged to know the reason for her refusal to take the medicine, and she then said that she had been to the church of God meeting and had been made very happy, and that she believed if they would send for the elders of that church she should be healed. So word came, and Brother Owen went and anointed her inaccordance with Jas. 5:14, 15. She has been getting better right along, and tonight she was at the meeting. She is saved now and seems to have a clear experience."
"Thank God!" was the hearty response. "How I should have loved to be at the meeting last night!—but for the present here is my meeting, and here is my work," and, catching up the baby and waving the letter happily, she ran into the house at the sound of children's voices within.
After the baby had been bathed and put to sleep, and the other children were sitting quietly at play on the side veranda, Sister Patience settled herself with her Bible at her husband's desk to answer this important letter. Bowing her head she besought God for this soul and for wisdom to answer his difficult questions aright. Then taking up her pen, she began the letter. She was so glad to write; she loved writing; and the joy of it always seemed to get into the very letters and shine back from the pages. She addressed Mr. Jones cordially and kindly, and then took up the substance of the letteritself. In calling his attention to certain truths she referred to the Bible time after time, and again and again she prayed, for the letter seemed particularly important to her. Long she meditated over some of the knotty questions, endeavoring to find the wisest explanation. Sometimes she was interrupted by the children just when she most needed to be quiet; but she had learned that interruptions often come as blessings in disguise, for often God had given thoughts that were clearer and better when she had patiently gone to attend to the children, and when she was free to return to her work she had found an answer preparing itself in her mind without an effort on her part. Thus, after several hours of close application, she finished the letter and sent it off with a trusting spirit.
Sister Patience hoped to receive an answer to her letter immediately, but week after week passed, and there was no response. Dread began to creep upon her that this soul would not accept the truth. She took him earnestly to God many times andtrusted that God would in some way overrule. However, as four months passed and she had not heard again, she gave him over as being no longer interested.
Then it was that one morning there came, to her surprize, a letter in the same fine handwriting. How cordially he wrote! He thanked her for answering the former letter so fully and said he had been searching and proving her answers by the Word during the long interval. And now there were still a few points remaining that he disagreed with her upon; again she found a few numbered questions to answer.
These, like the first, were very shrewd, puzzling questions, and only sagacious answers would satisfy the inquirer. Again Sister Patience labored over the letter with prayer and meditation. Then, leaning hard upon God, she wrote another encouraging letter setting forth expositions of Scripture as clearly as possible. This time she invited her correspondent to a series of meetings they were expecting to hold during the coming winter season, when they hoped to havewith them one or two ministers from America for a short period.
Again she waited long for an answer; but this time she did not give him up. Several months passed, and then one of the brethren, a colporteur, came. He had been away for several months, and Sister Patience was very glad to see him.
"And tell me now, Brother Delworth," she said, after the first greetings were over, "where have you been all this time?"
"Mostly in Arendon and Lawney. I went from Panville to Mayfield, and from there to Paldings."
"Paldings! You were at Paldings? Do you know one K. L. Jones?" asked Sister Patience with great interest.
"Ah yes, a fine old gentleman, a school-teacher. He is saved. I sold him some books. He seems very much interested. And, by the way, he asked me to say to you when I should see you that he hoped to come over to the meeting next month, when the brethren are here from America. You will hear from him soon."
The time was drawing near for the coming of the brethren from America. Arrangements had been made for a meeting during their stay, which would be only for a few days. And then one day a letter came from Brother Jones inquiring as to the date of the meeting, and saying that if possible he should like to attend it. So again Sister Patience wrote him, urging him to be at the meeting, if possible.
Thus it was that during the exciting days of the meeting, when many from different parts of the country had gathered in to meet the brethren from America in this meeting, Sister Patience first met Brother Jones. It happened in this way: One morning before meeting-time, she was passing through the little sitting-room in her home, when she noticed a fine-looking native man of venerable appearance sitting at one side of the room. People were all about him, but he was looking over some tracts that had been handed him. Making her way to him, she said:
"Good morning, Brother, I have not met you before, have I?"
"Ah, no," he said, and, quickly rising, he gave her a courteous bow. "Can this be Sister Patience? My name is K. L. Jones, of Paldings."
"How glad I am to meet you!" she replied. And then followed an animated conversation in which she was able to recognize and admire the fine qualities of his matured mind. Finally he expressed the desire to speak with the foreign brethren himself, and so an audience was arranged for him after the next service. Then it was, Sister Patience learned afterwards, that Brother Jones inquired deeply into the subjects of sanctification and baptism. Later in the day it was announced that there would be a baptismal service early the next morning to accommodate Brother Jones, who was to return home by an early train.
Some years have passed since then. God has wonderfully used the dear old brother, and a congregation has been raised up about him, who look up to him as their pastor.These are backward mountain people where he has labored, yet such has been his patience and faithfulness and love that they have become established in holiness and truth. Brother Jones, as we call him, is becoming feeble now, but he is still standing faithful as the shepherd of this little flock, faithful unto death.
Does it pay to use patience and prayer when dealing with precious souls? Ah yes; eternity alone can tell all that it means.
EXPERIENCE NUMBER 11
It was in the town of Goulbourne, New South Wales, Australia, that I began my career in life. Until I reached the age of four years, a prosperous father provided the comforts of a good home, but a great change took place upon my suddenly being left fatherless. A few months later found me in a little town on the St. Lawrence River, in the Providence of Ontario, Canada. I had accompanied my mother to this place, but she soon placed me with a strange family and went to a distant city.
As I was now separated from every family tie, life began in real earnest. It was also the beginning of a record of many interesting and often sad experiences extending over a number of years. In my wanderings in different parts of Canada and in many localities of the United States, the incidents varied all the way from being rescued from drowning to landing in jail as a vagrant. Space forbids a detailed accountof my experience, which to me affords material for interesting and often regretful recollection. It may, however, all be summed up and described as analogous with the casting of an innocent infant into the mighty Niagara River to be swept along at the mercy of the on-rushing and maddening current, which knows no relenting, but bears its victim to an untimely end over the brink of the mighty falls. There destruction on the ragged rocks below awaits it unless an unseen hand should miraculously dip into the water and save that form for life and service.
Thank God, in his tender mercy he stretched forth his hand to rescue my poor, lost, helpless soul from the turbulent rapids of sin when I was seventeen years of age. He set me on the solid rock of his truth and gave me the Holy Spirit as an eternal guide and propelling power. He has proved to be a comforter in whom I can safely put my trust when stemming the rising tide of unbelief and doubt.
It is with thanksgiving that I can at thepresent time recount the divine care of which I have been the object, so far in my pilgrimage through life. I rejoice to be a partaker of the Father's love, which is pure, warm, and changeless. There is an abiding assurance of safety so long as I walk in the path of obedience to his will and trust implicitly in his mighty power to keep my feet while I take steps toward the threshold of heaven. I am grateful, also, for a soul-conviction that the most worthy, most desirable and glorious life is the one that finds its outlet in the glad service of love to God and discovers complete happiness in serving others. A soul without Christ is like an idle straw driven at the mercy of the wind, but the soul redeemed through the blood of Jesus will experience a sweet essence that turns the unfruitful life into a garden of unspeakable delights.
EXPERIENCE NUMBER 12
To those who have been reared in Christian nations, it is difficult to conceive of the vague ideas of the true worship of the Creator, that are really bred and born into the worshipers of idols. Generation upon generation, for thousands of years, have been taught the same form of worship, or nearly so, until such heathen ideas and doctrines have become just as much a part of their nature as is any other sinful disposition.
Having been a personal observer of a few of their customs, I shall here be mentioning what I have seen, with a prayer that my account may at least help the reader more fully to appreciate the access that every worshiper of the true God has to the bountiful storehouse of blessings provided by our Creator.
For nearly five years I lived a short distance outside a large city in China. Almost as far as we could see in any direction, the hills and valleys were dotted withlittle mounds. (Some of the valleys, however, were under cultivation.) How came all these little mounds, some round, some long, some large and some small, some carefully covered over with fresh green sod, and others greatly weather-beaten and nearly washed away by the rains of the season? These mysterious little mounds mark the last resting-places of thousands of Chinese. Should the mortal remains in a mound be those of a child, little or no attention is shown it; but should it be those of a father or a mother, the relatives who are left behind do not fail to show great respect and attention to the spirit of the departed one. Should they not render such attention, they believe the spirit has power to inflict upon them great sorrow and adversity.
Some of their methods of showing respect I have observed to be as follows: After a body is prepared for burial, candles and incense are kept burning, near the head and the feet; also bowls of rice and other food, with a pair of chopsticks, are placed within easy reach, for the use of the spirit. On theday of the funeral some one is hired to scatter representations of paper money along the road, just ahead of the bier. In determining the position of the coffin at the grave, great care is taken to have the head turned directly toward some favorite temple, that the spirit may have no trouble in finding its way there. Before the casket is covered with sod, a religious ceremony is held in this way: All the relatives present, beginning with the nearest kinsman, kneel down and bow from one to three times, to the one whom they now hold in such great esteem. Even the tiniest children are taught to thus bow before and reverence their ancestor. This being finished, there is then kindled, at the foot of the casket, a small fire of paper money, by which means they believe the value thereof is transported to the spirit-world for the use of their departed one.
A day or two after the funeral, and on special feast-days, the near relatives carry food to the grave and offer the food to the spirit by placing it in bowls before the grave.They also again burn paper money or incense. While the fire burns, and the food remains to be received by the spirit, a woman, usually the nearest relative, kneels by the side of the grave and begins a long-drawn-out season of lamenting and wailing for the sorrow that has come upon her on account of the death of the one by whose grave she is kneeling. She soon almost prostrates herself. During this season of weeping, she enumerates over and over, all the virtues and good qualities of the departed one, and begs him to come back to her. She usually continues in this frenzy until some one who has accompanied her, pulls her up, bidding her cease the wailing. The bowls of food previously offered to the spirit are now given to the children or carried home for others to eat. By this manner of worship the woman is supposed to show great honor and reverence to the deceased, whether he was her father, brother, husband, or son.
Well do I remember the strange feelings that came over me the first few times I witnessedfrom my window such a scene as I have just described. I felt such a longing to go to the weeping woman, put my arms around her, and comfort her sad heart. But to my utter astonishment, within two or three minutes after all her touching lamentations she was up laughing, talking, and having a jovial time with those about her! Whence came those agonizing groans, and whither had they flown? Had "He who is touched with the feeling of our infirmities" comforted her heart? Had the God of heaven, who is a present help in every time of trouble, stretched forth his loving hand to dry her tears of sorrow? Ah, no; sadly enough, no. Believe me, reader, when I say that these superstitious women worshiping the spirits of departed ones have a form of sorrow and make a great pretense of distress, but that, in reality, it is only a custom or habit which has been copied from their grandmothers for generations back. This may seem hard to believe, but one thing which convinced me the quickest was that they all have precisely the same tuneor swing to their wailing. After hearing it once or twice, you always recognize it afterwards, wherever you are, whether you see the person or not. It is like a recitation or song committed to memory. There may be no signs whatsoever of sorrow until after the woman has taken her place beside the grave, when she immediately begins in tones that could probably be heard, on a quiet day, a quarter of a mile away, and continues wailing in the same pitch until some one bids her cease, when her outward appearance of sorrow ceases as abruptly as it began. I do not mean to say that never is there any real sorrow mingled with the outward form. There may be, but it is the outward form which constitutes the worship and which every woman seems to know how to perform when the occasion presents itself.
Now permit me to tell something concerning the worship of idols. Originally, I had the idea that the inside arrangement of a heathen temple was very much the same as that of a Christian chapel; namely, thatseats were orderly arranged for the worshipers and that the idols would be standing in the front where the pulpit should be. But upon my first visit to a temple, I saw that I was mistaken. At or near the temple door stand two very large, fierce-looking idols, known as guards of the temple. Arranged all around the sides are numerous other idols, of various kinds and sizes. But in the center of the building stands one or more large idols, who are supposed to impart different kinds of blessings to the worshiper. Standing near by are a number of incense-pots, from which ascends smoke continuously on worship-days. On the floor can be seen a number of thick, round mats, on which the worshipers kneel as they bow before the idols. They do not have fixed hours of worship and all assemble at the appointed time, but at any time throughout the day few or many may go in and bow before whatever idols are supposed to bestow the kinds of blessings desired. The idol is not supposed to give out the blessing at the time the worshiper bows before him,as some readers may have believed. For instance, at the beginning of a new year, if a man bows before the god of wealth, he does not expect the idol to hand out money to him, but rather he expects that during the coming year he shall have financial prosperity.
I remember once seeing a father bow before an idol, then take his three little children, one by one, show them how to kneel upon the mat, fold their little hands, and bump their heads several times upon the floor in front of the hideous idol, of which the little ones were afraid. The father noticed that I was observing closely the procedure. When it was all finished, he looked at me with a smile, as if to say, "Didn't they do well?"
These things can not but make sad the heart of a child of God. Catching a glimpse now and again of a bit of real idol-worship helps one to realize that the church, in evangelizing the world, has indeed a mighty undertaking. From a human standpoint, it may seem impossible, but with God all things are possible.
EXPERIENCE NUMBER 13
Along the narrow way that leads to heaven, the Christian meets with many experiences that to him seem strange and inexplicable. That at times he should walk in light and then again in darkness; that sometimes he should run with ease and then again be compelled (as Bunyan puts it) "to fall from running to going, and from going to clambering upon his hands and his knees, because of the steepness of the place"; that he should stand today upon the mountain-top of glory and tomorrow find himself plunged into the valley of despondency and gloom; that today he should feel so clearly his Savior's presence, and tomorrow be left seemingly so entirely to himself; all these and many other things of like nature tend to puzzle and confuse the souls of pilgrims on the way to glory. That discouragements and disappointments would come from outside sources almost all have expected, butthat the inward life should be changeful and varied in any wise many have not thought consistent with true Christian experience.
Some, upon discovering that the Christian's pathway leads not always through verdant valleys and beside still waters, conclude that the way is too often rough and that therefore the prize is not worth the running, become discouraged and turn back into sin. Others, after wondering and seeking in vain for a way always bright and easy, and learning that all Christians have similar experiences of inward light and shade, conclude that these things are part of the way and determine to take them as a matter of course and make the best of them. They consider the prize too great to miss, and so they press on at any cost, having settled down to endure what must be endured and to enjoy what may be enjoyed, hoping some day for an end to it all, but never discovering the causes, or being ableto think the thoughts of God concerning their difficulties.
Another class can not be satisfied with this condition of mingled light and shade. Their souls must ever see the face of God, and with nothing short of that can they abide content. They would make any sacrifice if only the glory and joy they desire might be theirs, and without it they can not be still. Everywhere they turn crying, "Wherefore hidest thou thy face," "Make me to know my transgression and my sin" (Job 13:23, 24); and, like Job again, 'they go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but they can not perceive him'; on the right and left they seek, but can not find him (Job 23:8, 9). But they never quiet their souls sufficiently for God to tell them the causes of the conditions which they so much deplore.
Yet another class of Christians go through like experiences with the others, but somehow God by his grace enables their hearts, perhaps after years of struggling, to settle down at last into a state of stillness andcalm submission where he can teach them the causes of their troubles and so bring them out into that "wealthy place" which is the normal state of a mature Christian. Then they can sing with Job, "I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear; but NOW mine eye seeth thee" (Job. 42:5).
In religious as truly as in physical and temporal affairs, there is never an effect without an adequate cause. If the Word of God loses its richness, if darkness falls upon the soul, if it is hard to pray, if there is a lack of victory in any respect, there is a reason, a sufficient cause for such a condition. Let it be understood here that the causes are not always, in fact often are not, sins. Much confusion has arisen from imagining that every chastening of the Lord is the punishment of some sin, when, in fact, each of God's sons must endure chastisement that they may become in a fuller sense partakers of his holiness. Thus, we conclude that all the unpleasant experiences with which we meet in the upward way must be for the sake of eliminatingsomething of self and of conforming us more to the divine image. We do not meet them simply because they are in the way, but they are in the way because we need them. Hence the best way to meet all such things is to bring them quickly to Father, not inquiring impatiently, "Why must I suffer so?" but rather: "What is there in my nature that makes this suffering necessary? What is it that thou art endeavoring to do for me? And how may I conduct myself so as to receive the benefit?"
Happy is the child of God who can say that from the day of his conversion he has never sinned nor grieved the Spirit of God. Such, however, has not been the experience of the writer. For several years I was plunged, sometimes within the space of a few hours, from extreme happiness and joy into deepest gloom and sadness. Weeks of walking in the joy of the Lord often terminated in some sad failure, causing untold misery of soul. When faith again gainedthe victory, praises in the day and songs in the night were mine until some other episode or depression of feeling caused me anxiety and fear. In spite of God's matchless grace and patient endeavor to teach me the lessons of absolute dependence and humble trust in him, this condition continued until gradually and almost imperceptibly my soul reached a place where I seemed past feeling, joy was no longer mine, love seemed a sensation foreign to my heart, the power of prayer was gone, and I felt that God had indeed forsaken me. My testimonies (for I was not conscious of any sin and could not give up my hope in Christ) sounded to my own ears as "tinkling cymbal and sounding brass."
That a soul who commits no known sin and who never loses the determination to serve God could get into such a state seems incredible. Such, however, was my condition, and I have met some who are on the way to just such a place of confusion, others who have reached and are now suffering in the same state of misery, and still others whohave passed through and found that sweet rest of soul so plainly promised to all who come to Jesus. Such, then, as may be passing through or who are entering upon such experiences, I trust to be able to show how my feet came to sink into the miry clay and how at last God graciously set me upon the solid rock of his eternal truth and gave me new songs of praise and love once again.
For the two years intervening between my conversion and the time when I was enabled to make a complete consecration and receive an experience which I had not before attained, I enjoyed and endured the experiences common to the Christian in his early religious life. Many times I presented myself to God for cleansing, but as often failed to receive the Holy Ghost, because I could not believe unless I should have such manifestations of his incoming as some others had received. At last, in desperation, being confident that I had yielded all to God, I determined to believe that he didcleanse my heart and give me the Holy Spirit whether I ever received any feelings or not; for had not the immutable God promised, and could his word be broken? After a severe testing of this decision, the Holy Spirit came into my heart, cleansing it and filling me with joy unspeakable and full of glory. "Now," I thought, "surely all my difficulties are past, and I shall walk in glory the rest of my life." This bubble soon burst, however; for in my very testimony to the gracious infilling of the Spirit, I was shown a degree of self and a lack of humility, which, had I understood the truth of the matter, should have sent me in faith to the throne of grace for a supply of what I lacked, but which, instead, I allowed to throw me into a state of doubt and fear from which I did not emerge for some days. The agony of soul which I suffered through not understanding the fact that I had an individual self-life with which I must reckon, even though I was sanctified, can be understood only by those who have become victims to doubts in a like manner. After atime faith became stronger, the seasons of depression became fewer, and my soul lived upon the wing. Prayer was a delight; the reading of the Word filled me with praise; meeting the people of God was the joy of my life; and every newly revealed truth made my soul leap for gladness.
I came at last to revel in my experiences. Insensibly to myself, I gloried in MY joy, MY victory, MY trueness to God. Others told of trials and difficulties; my testimonies were full of victory and praise, and I rejoiced in the fact. Little by little I began to notice the faults and failures of others, and having begun to think so much of what I was, I had but a little step to go to make a comparison of their faults with my virtues. As I remember, I did this all quite unconsciously; but a brother at last said to me, "I fear you are losing that burning love for others which you once had." Thus reproved, I sought the Father in a very simple prayer that he would fill me again withthat sweetness and tenderness so necessary for a child of God. That he answered no one could doubt, least of all I myself. A passion for souls took hold upon me. No labor was too hard, no sacrifice too great, if only I could influence a soul for Jesus. I felt a tenderness of soul toward those whom I had formerly criticized, and whereas I had avoided them, now I felt a drawing toward them, and though I believed (because some in whom I had confidence warned me of it) that they possessed very serious faults, someway I could not see them so plainly.
I was young in years, and oh, so ignorant! If only at that time my wisdom had been equal to my love for God and souls, how much of sorrow I might have been saved! How hard the Spirit of God tried to keep me from taking counsel with self and others! but I had yet to develop that individuality which can stand alone with God in sunshine or tempest and at the same time hold an attitude of humble, submissive love to the brethren. I needed that single eye which sees only God and is not occupied with selfor others, except in humbly loving and serving them. Partly through a lack of understanding, but more especially because spiritual pride was gaining a foothold in my heart, making it impossible for me clearly to distinguish the voice of the Spirit of God, I failed to heed his warnings, and entered an experience of darkness and gloom, lighted by a very few rays of his divine presence, which continued over a period of several years.
Gradually my former experience was repeated. Criticism of others slowly but surely took the place of fervent charity. Contemplation of self and self-complacency supplanted meditation on God and the humble realization of my need of his constant help. Self-sufficiency succeeded humble dependence upon the Lord. All this was utterly uncomprehended by my heart, and soon I began vaguely to wonder why I did not love secret prayer as formerly, why the Word did not seem so good to me as before,and why my thoughts ran so much upon myself and others, whereas in times past the Lord had been the Alpha and Omega of my meditations. My zeal for the truth did not abate. My public devotions were earnest and apparently spiritual, but deep within my soul I knew that there was a difference. However, I was so much taken up with helping others do right that I had not much time to attend to my own needs. God had given me much light, many things for my personal benefit. These I was very anxious for others to see; for if they were good for me, why not for others also? Thus, I endeavored to force my convictions upon all I met. I loved their souls and my actions were born of a desire for their best good, but my attitude must have repelled rather than have attracted them. Anxiety to see every one get as much as possible as quickly as possible, made me oversolicitous and exacting.
At this time I came in contact with some who were inclined to lower the standard in some respects and give more room for looseness of walk and conversation than wasexpedient. These I looked upon at first with pity, then with indignation, and at last as wilful deceivers. At this stage, I think, the last vestige of divine tenderness vanished from my soul, and I entered the conflict determined to vindicate the truth and see the standard upheld. When efforts were made to discover to me my faults, I could see only theirs. If it was suggested to me that I was lacking in love, I felt that judgments instead of love should be meted out to them. Instead of feeling free in their presence, I felt like avoiding them and almost feared to be with them. This I ascribed to the bad spirit which I felt actuated them. Had I only known how, I might have held to the true standard in righteousness and also in mercy, but I could see no middle ground. Either I was right and they wrong or the opposite was true. And I thought that if I was wrong at all I must be wholly wrong. I had not at that time seen the truth that God judges us by our motives, and condemns or excuses us as we have or do not have an earnest determination to serve himand do his will. So any attempt to recognize those who were failing in doing some of what I was sure was the will of God only resulted in terrible confusion to my soul.
At last God in mercy gave a dream to a brother who was trying to help us. I can not recall it perfectly, but to the best of my recollection, it was somewhat as follows: He thought that he was in the center of a beautiful stream of water, clear as crystal. The banks on each side were perpendicular and very high. On each bank was a large bundle to which was attached a strap. The brother was trying hard, but without success, to pull those bundles into the stream. In the midst of his exertions he awoke. Wondering what was in the bundles, he looked to the Lord and received this solution: The crystal stream represented God's eternal truth; the obstinate bundles contained a list of things which he gave to us somewhat as follows:
Such a revelation of my heart should have helped me, but so blind was I that the only change it wrought was to turn the weapons of harshness, criticism, and exaction upon myself. And for three long miserable years, with a heart like a stone so far as feelings were concerned, I wrestled with doubts and fears and tried, oh, so hard! to reach the standard of spirituality which I had formerly held up for others. Labor in prayer as I would, the light would not dispel the darkness, the stony heart would not soften, except for a short season. Then, how I gloried in the light and how I mourned when it was dark again! Worse than all else, there fell upon my soul a state of seeming indifferenceto my condition and carelessness toward both God, the souls of others, and myself. Stir myself out of it, I could not. Sorrow and joy alike seemed strangers to me. As there was no blessing, so there was no grief. There was a great calm, but it was the calm of the grave; it was not peace. When reproved for causing trials to others, as I often needed to be, I endeavored not to be guilty of the same offense again; but no matter what I did, I seemed to experience no great depth of sorrow. Withal there developed a lightness quite foreign to what I had been by nature or grace. I seemed to live only upon the surface, and to have no ability to reach any depth of grace. This I deplored, and longed for the blessing of genuine sorrow. How often I wished that I had never heard the truth if only I might have the chance to begin all over again!
I lived in circles, making no progress. Daily I prayed for a return of the joy, love, peace, and victory I had once known. Sometimes the clouds rifted a little, and I gloried in it, thinking that surely the Lord hadheard, and I should be delivered; but soon I would feel the same dulness settle down, leaving in me the same aching void as before. Again and again I tried to repent, thinking that I surely must be a sinner; but I could not work up any earnestness, nor could I find anything in particular of which to repent, only the darkness and general dissatisfaction which I was experiencing. If only I could have begun again; but there seemed no place from which to start, no foundation for my feet, and I felt myself almost entirely swallowed in the quicksand of despondency and discouragement. I realized then the force of the Psalmist's words, "If the foundations be removed, what shall the righteous do?"
At last my thoughtlessness brought upon me some very severe reproofs. I knew that I was not feeling the weight of them as I should, and I knew also that unless I should be able in some way to see why I did such things I could never get any help. Whyshould I, who longed to be a soul-winner, be a source of trial to others? Having at last gotten it settled that there was something fundamentally wrong, I determined not to content myself until I should discover what it was. Instead of praying as I had done for so long, for love, joy, etc., I endeavored to humble myself before God and entreat him to show me what was wrong within. I made very slow progress. A day of fasting and prayer revealed nothing. But I would not cease searching my heart. It was very dry praying, for I had no ability even to feel sorry that my condition was so bad; but I had one promise to which I clung desperately: "They that seek the Lord shall not want any good thing" (Psa. 34:10). I could not make myself feel, nor change my state, but I could seek. And it was within my power, as it is within the power of all, to believe that he would be found of me.
At last, little by little, it dawned upon me that I was selfish. The reader may smile, as I myself do now, that I did not know it before. But up to that time I had neverstopped to consider why I did things. If I spoke harshly, I was sorry and begged pardon, but it never occurred to me to think why I had spoken so, except that something had not pleased me. If I prayed when I felt inclined and neglected prayer when I did not feel inclined to pray, I knew that I had neglected duty, but to consider why I had neglected it never entered my mind. If words not unto edification escaped my lips, I was ashamed, but my motive for so speaking was unknown to me. But now the Lord showed me clearly that a desire for personal pleasure and profit lurked deep at the root of all those acts of indifference and carelessness. Grateful for one ray of light, I sought again his presence and cried, "But why, O Lord, should I, who have tasted thy divine grace, who have felt the sanctifying power of thy Holy Spirit—why should I be selfish?" My spiritual eye was regaining its sight now and my ear its keenness, so that through many days, in the testimonies of others, through reading, and in prayerand meditation, the answer came by degrees, until at last I understood.
There is, I learned, in every human heart an element called self-love. This is not sinful in itself, being synonymous with that desire for happiness which is the medium through which God appeals to the soul. It is not annihilated in the sanctified soul, else Jesus could not have said, "Love thy neighbor as thyself," but it is there subordinated to that pure love which places God first in all circumstances. To love the Lord with all the heart, might, mind, and strength is to love with pure love; but the heart that loves thus still contains self-love, and it is through this property of the soul that the sanctified can be tempted. Adam was a perfect man, with a perfectly pure heart; but when tempted to obtain something which promised to improve his state and increase his happiness, he proved that he loved himself by yielding to the temptation. It is this part of ourselves which must dailybe denied lest it degenerate into selfishness and cause us trouble. There is a degree to which this self-love and pure love may become mixed in our service to God. This had happened in my case.
Pure love serves without any hope of reward. When light and peace and joy fill the soul, or when grief, sorrow, or loneliness presses the heart, pure love goes on loving and serving. Pure love desires, not to be pleased, but to please. It gives all and demands nothing in return. It loves God, not so much for what he has done for the soul, or for what the soul expects him to do for it, but for what he IS. It seeks him, not so much that it may be blessed, as that it may be a pleasure to him. It desires, not so much satisfaction for its own heart, as that he may be satisfied with it. It seeks not place nor position nor anything, but only that HE may find pleasure in it, that HE may be able to rejoice in the work of his hand. If it pleases him to give good things, the soul is grateful, but does not forget that the Giver is more than the gift. If evil comes,pure love can quietly rest, desiring naught for self, but all for him. Even if his face is hidden, pure love, though feeling keenly the absence of its beloved, can still say in sweet submission, "Thy will be done"; for it feels itself unworthy of any blessing and so is content with whatever its Lord is pleased to do. It yields itself to the Author of every good, and, trusting his love, receives thankfully and in deep humility what he pleases to give and as gratefully humbles itself to go without what he does not please to give. "Willingly to receive what thou givest, to lack what thou withholdest, to relinquish what thou takest, to suffer what thou inflictest, to be what thou requirest"—this is pure love and real consecration.
As God revealed this precious truth, I felt as though some one had said of me, "Doth Job serve God for naught?" and that God could not have justified me as he did Job. My own heart showed me self-seeking. I saw then that I had prayed to be blessed;that I had longed for satisfaction; that I had sought for joy and peace and love and spirituality, partly at least, that I might be satisfied and well pleased with myself, and, furthermore, that I might be considered spiritual among the brethren. Also, I was honestly anxious to be a blessing to others and in everything to be an "example of the believers." But to seek the Lord simply to please him never occurred to me, until I was reminded of his unselfish love for me. He desired me to be "all for him," not because my little all could make him any richer, but because it was only then that he could really be "all for me" and bestow upon me the riches of his love. A sentence from Fenelon made me more ashamed than ever. It reads something like this: "Would you serve God only as he gives you pleasure in serving him?"
In the beginning of my Christian experience I had but to see a truth to feel within a strong drawing to obedience. But now allwas different. The cold facts of my condition were plain to me, but there was no inward force compelling me to act according to the knowledge I had gained. I was tossed about and wished more than I can tell for some inward urging of the Spirit of God toward the performance of my duty. I did not know the truth that God accepts the decision of the will as the purpose of the heart. I supposed that no act could be acceptable to God unless it came from a warm feeling of love. The deadness and the apathy of my heart were sickening. I saw clearly the wretchedness of my condition, but there was no breaking up, no feeling of sorrow, no conviction (as I thought), no love for God. If I could only have shed some tears; if my soul had only been exercised for its own deliverance! But all within was as still as a stone; only my mind seemed active.
At last, however, I saw that this apparent lack of sorrow was only another step toward the utter repudiation of self. In thepast, self had hidden behind my tears, and I had unconsciously trusted in my sorrow instead of in the Lord, thinking that surely because I felt so sorry, I should not repeat the offense. But a feeling of sorrow can not save, as I proved again and again by repeated failures, and so God, wishing to strip me of anything in which to trust except himself, allowed me not even the satisfaction of tears or a breaking up of heart. He wished to teach me that real repentance is an act of the will and not of the emotions. For a tender heart, one should be grateful, but to trust in that for victory over sin or faults can only lead to repeated failure. So at last I was willing to submit this point to him who doeth all things well and was willing to cast myself, unworthy, undone, without a vestige of hope in myself, nor a place to set my feet, wholly upon him and to believe that he took me AS I WAS, whether I was able to do or be anything or not, and would begin to work in me his divine will.
The same trouble arose about my lack of feeling any love for God. How could I, who had been the recipient of so many favors from the hand of God, be so hard-hearted as not to love him! Could I dare come to him or ask anything from him when I did not love him, when I had given so much place to self-love and had been so indifferent concerning the pleasure of my King? How difficult it is to come to God empty-handed! If only I might have brought at least a little love in my hand to offer him! But no, there seemed to be none; and at last my poor soul came to see and confess that, after all, it was not because of my love to him that he loved me and saved me, but because of his great mercy and love for me. At length my soul, falling down before him, could cry out in truth,