I HAVE no distinct remembrance of yearnings after God in my early childhood. “Jesus” was not regarded in our home. “To pay your way, and be honest and straight in all dealings with others, and to do a good turn to another if you could,” was what my father often expressed as being his religion.
I went to Sunday school, and always enjoyed it. I looked upon my teacher as a good and holy person, and God, Jesus, and heaven, as most solemn and sacred subjects. At the age of fourteen I lived with Church of England people, and attended church with them. I think it was there that I heard the words which strangely impressed me, giving me fear and misgivings which I could not get rid of. They were these: “Except a man be born of water and the Spirit he cannot enter the kingdom of God.” The one whom I asked to explain this passage told me that we were so born anew at our baptism in infancy, and as my parents had neglected to have me done, I must see about it myself as soon as possible.
How well I remember the wretchedness of those days and nights before I went through the form—my mind being possessed with a dread that I should die before it could take place. How little I knew of the love and grace of God! When it was over, I felt I was now a child of God, and must “live up to it,” which I really believe I tried to do. After that, for some years I was completely influenced by those around me. If they were careless, I was; but I was happiest with those who cared for better things. I remember being terribly grieved when a young woman said in my hearing “that she had heard people say that the Bible was just a made-up book, to prevent people, by frightening them, from being wicked”; but as I was very ignorant I could only declare that I was sure that wasn’t true. I do not remember taking any real pleasure in the Bible, or having anything but a sort of superstitious belief in its truths, until I was about twenty-three years of age. Before this I yearned for something more satisfying than this world’s pleasures, and even sought out a stranger who I had heard could give sympathy and advice to any in soul difficulty, but I was then living a business life, surrounded by ungodliness, and soon wandered again into my old state. I was proud of a reputation for smartness of speech; and few things were sacred to my sharp tongue, until one day, before I could think what I was doing, the precious name of that dear Saviour was uttered in lightness. There was a surprised look on the face of one who heard me, but what made me most wretched was the words spoken to my own soul: “Why persecutest thou me?” “I am Jesus whom thou persecutest.”
I never was really happy in my surroundings after that; and many events in a short time led up to, and made the way clear for me to leave them. This is too brief a sketch to record all details, but oh! it has been blessed to look back and see how God made a way out for me at this time. I spent some months in the quiet home of a friend, but though without a single desire to return to my business life and pleasures, there was a void in my heart which, I did not understand, Christ alone could fill. I was now with those who made no outward profession of religion, attended no place of worship so-called, and, according to my old habit, I fell in with their ways.
I went one day to the house of some Christians whom I knew only slightly. I was at this time rather anxious to find a situation, and having determined never to go back to a business life, I hardly knew what to seek for, and I felt that they might held me to decide. They begged me to accompany them to a revival meeting in the evening—and I did so—and that evening marked the time of my restoration to God. I hardly like to call it conversion, because of my previous experiences, yet it was the first time I had a clear sense of sin, of righteousness and of judgment. My friends begged me to stay the night with them, which I did, and never shall I forget how tenderly one (whose faithful lovingkindness I shall ever praise God for) prayed with me, and whispered sweet words of peace and encouragement to my soul. The next day I returned with these words in my ears and the peace of them in my heart: “There is therefore now no condemnation to them in Christ Jesus,” and under my arm a Bible given by my Christian friend. How I was tempted to tuck it out of sight from my fellow passengers in the train! But strong in my new joy, I resisted the desire, and sought to occupy my mind with the beautiful truths I had now laid hold on.
Very shortly after this, I found a situation near my Christian friend, and expressing to her, after I was settled in it, a desire to go to the Lord’s table, she, being a Church woman, advised me to give my name as a candidate for confirmation, without which I could not go to the church communion. I did so, and was in due time confirmed. I regarded the ordinance as very solemn, and my preparation for it was real and heartfelt, as was also my joy on the day of receiving it.
Just before this time my friend left her home near me, to enter into training for missionary work, and though for a time her influence remained with me, I soon began to miss my dear earthly prop, and became disheartened by the difficulties I found in trying to walk in the narrow path. I was, as many are, surprised to find religious exercises had not changed me; that still wrong thoughts, desires and habits possessed me, while fell easily into all sorts of temptation. The people I served were also church people, enjoying the world’s pleasures, holding what they called broadminded views of right and wrong, and having no clear perception of even the truths of the gospel. One, of whom I was very fond, went regularly to “communion,” and I sometimes accompanied her. I began after a time to consider that perhaps my first Christian friend was a trifle strait-laced, yet my conscience told me her life was more consistent than those with whom I was living. She came to see me once, but I did not find the same pleasure in her society, for my heart was growing cold towards God.
A reviving came with the offer of a post as rescue worker. I felt my unfitness to undertake definite Christian work, but was persuaded to accept it, and so went to God for grace to honor Him, and to act rightly towards those who would come under my care. The superintendent of this little home was a very high-church woman, and finding much to esteem in her character, I was the more ready to respect her principles and fall into her ways. I felt keenly the responsibility of my new position, and tried to keep close to God in order to help the poor girls who came to us.
I was conscious of a barrenness in the teaching of the vicar of the church I now attended, but a feeling of dogged loyalty had sprung up in my heart for the institution (Church of England) with which I had associated myself; and though questions would arise in my mind, they were easily lulled to sleep again, by the argument that since we were individually so imperfect, one could not find infallibility in any collective body.
Having gained experience in this country post, I sought a better, and found one at Knightsbridge, S.W. Again my fellow-worker was a high-church woman, and because of our mutual love of our work, we were soon drawn closely together. We had the joy of watching souls turn from darkness to light in those early days together, and though hampered by the formalism of system, we sincerely sought to live up to the light we had. Finding confession appeared to be a great help to my companion, after much considering, I went myself. I must admit a joy after my first confession to man, so convinced was I that this exercise was pleasing to God; but after only two (I think) more visits, uneasy feelings about it obliged me to give it up.
I had lost my mother when a little girl, and our home was broken up early in my life, and my father sent me to friends of his; but after a few years I drifted away from him, and seemed to lose all natural affection for him. After my restoration I began to write to him again, and now when I had my first holiday at this London post, I decided to spend it with him. During my stay with him I went to see a relation some miles away—a mere duty call I felt it to be, as I knew little of her, except what I had heard from others. However, so kindly was I received that I accepted their (my aunt’s and her husband’s) invitation to remain the night; they told me a few neighbors were coming in the evening for a Bible-reading, and I was rather curious about how such an informal meeting would be carried out. From its commencement I was impressed by the simplicity yet power with which the word was read and explained; or rather one passage was used to explain another; spiritual things were compared with spiritual; and my hungry soul feasted as it had never had before, on the precious things of God. I was amazed at the beauty of the chapter we considered—amazed that I had never, though I had read it, understood or enjoyed it.
I went away next day feeling sure that whatever the outward expression of my relations’ religion was, God was with them, and in a fuller, clearer way than He was with me. l went over the scriptures that had been pointed out to me, and soon found myself full of joy, and praising God for the blessed certainty that I was inn Christ and that nothing could pluck me out of His hand. Never before had I so bowed to the truth of the written word. I spent a few more hours with my aunt, during which our love for Jesus drew us so close together that I returned to my post, knowing that an earthly Christian home was open to me, and my heavenly home and privileges no longer a vague uncertainty, but a blessed hope and present possession.
My fellow worker was struck by my brightness, and seemed ashamed of her own doubtings. “Do you remember,” I asked her, “how, when we have spoken of heaven, I have expressed a doubt of ever being there. I shall never do that anymore, for I know Christ has made me fit, and however I may fail, I can never undo His work.” We spoke together sometimes of those things in our system which we saw were not consistent with the word of God, but she generally concluded such conversation by saying emphatically, “I was born and brought up in the Church of England and I shall never leave it.” I too, thought that where God had blessed me, where I had many true Christian friends, and where my work lay, was the correct place for me to be. I soon lost my joy, and the word its sweetness and power, and some months afterward—after many trying cases had passed through the home, I fell into a condition of nervous irritability and depression which had the effect (combined with other things) of alienating me from my friend, for whom I had conceived an affection amounting to adoration, and my very life was a burden. The doctor pronounced my condition nervous breakdown, and I was sent to the seaside by my committee to recruit. The most awful feeling I had was that God had deserted me; attending church was a weariness. One night I lay awake, feeling inexpressibly miserable, and suddenly cried aloud, “Oh, what do I want?” As if an angel had spoken them (but it was God’s Holy Spirit brought them) the words came: “Thou, O Christ, art all I want, More than all in Thee I find.”
“Oh, yes!” I cried again. I want Him, but He has cast me off. Yet again came the words, “Having loved His own which were in the world, He loved them unto the end.” I fell asleep in the comfort of this precious truth.
I returned somewhat better in health. But trouble—in the home—now no longer ruled by love and sympathy, soon proved more than I could bear, and I decided to leave my post and rescue work altogether for a time. It was pleasant to remember—at this time I had a home to go to. My aunt received me gladly, and I had not been in her house (a simple country home in Essex) a week, before—the old peace began to steal into my heart—the word (so often appealed to, so entirely relied on, by these children of God in this little home) began to have its old preciousness. I went to bed with some sweet promise giving peace to my heart. I awoke often with another on my lips. Through it all there were a few words which brought a measure of discomfort, but which were continually with me. “Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage.”
Then came a request that I would fill a temporary rescue post during the holiday of the workers, and I went with a heart full of love and gratitude to God for His goodness in opening such a home for me, where I had learned more of Himself than I had ever known before, and promising to come back to it when I had fulfilled this engagement.
Again I was with Church of England people this time those with evangelical principles, and the clergyman, who was chaplain of the home, was an earnest, godly believer, whose preaching was faithful and his life consistent. The misgivings I had had about remaining in the Church of England vanished; I was only too glad for them to do so, for I clung to the friends in it and the associations of it with all my heart. “God meant me to stay,” I reasoned, “or he would not have allowed me to come here and see how real many of its persuasion are, proving that all could be.”
I applied for a post at a rectory, and secured it, but went for a short time before entering it to the little Christian home. In this visit, I tried to throw the feeling off, but was conscious that I went back to my aunt’s home less happy than I left it. I generally attended a church three miles from my aunt’s home, not caring for the one nearer, but on my last Sunday I resisted the persuasions of a friend who held office there, and decided to spend it with my relations at their little meeting room. I had been before with them to the gospel service, but had missed the music and outward attraction of my usual “places of worship.” On this Sunday I might have “remembered the Lord” with them, but I would not, but sat behind, feeling very miserable and out of place—in truth a struggle was going on in my own soul. Again God was calling me out of man’s order to Himself, but I clung to those earthly advantages which I must, if I did so, let go. Particularly He used the verse, “In a great house” (2 Tim. 2:20), and the context; but oh, how I struggled against it! In the evening the subject was 2 Kings 5—Naaman the Syrian. It was interesting, but when it came to that part where Naaman asks permission to bow in the house of Rimmon, I despised him in my heart. “He felt the power of Israel’s God,” I mused, “why didn’t he boldly declare he wouldn’t even bow to a false god any more?—afraid of losing his position, I suppose.”
Even as I despised him for his want of courage, a voice said in my soul: “‘Thou art the man’—do you not feel—have you not acknowledged, the power of God’s word, revealed by His Spirit? Yet you would go back to the place where both are allowed only a secondary place—where the guidance of the Holy Spirit is set aside.” I heard no more of either hymn or prayer; a fierce struggle went on in my heart. I went straight to my room on returning home, and begged God to give me courage to do His will, to let go my very dearest wish if it stood before Him.
Before I lay down that night I had seen clearly that I could not with God’s blessing and approval return to the Church of England. These verses were very precious to me:
“Is the wilderness before thee,
Desert lands where drought abides?
Heavenly springs shall there restore thee,
Fresh from God’s exhaustless tides.
“Light divine surrounds thy going,
God Himself shall mark thy way;
Secret blessings richly flowing,
Lead to everlasting day.
“In the desert God will teach thee
What the God that thou hast found:
Patient, gracious, powerful, holy,
All His grace shall there abound.”
It was too late to withdraw from my engagement, and the next day I went to my duties at the rectory. I shall never forget those three months there, where I, who had always leaned on man, was taught to depend on God alone—nor shall I forget the sense of His approval which never left me, though I suffered persecution, and ridicule for the step I had taken in leaving the Established Church. I could not express what I proved by experience when for the first time I remembered my Saviour in Spirit and in truth. To those who ask, “Do you think you are right now?” I reply, “I trust so, for God is right, His word is truth; His Spirit reveals and guides, and my prayer and desire is to be kept subject to all these.” God’s word must be right, and if believers adhere faithfully to it, as is the duty of every one, they will have the mind and approval of God.
I can be thought peculiar for Christ’s sake, so long as I possess that white stone with a name that no man knoweth save he that receiveth it (Rev. 2:17). I have appropriated the salvation offered to me in God’s word. I am not my own, but bought with a price. He leads me in the path of righteousness; so I seek to ask myself in all I enter into—in all I undertake, “Is Christ leading me here?” And if the Spirit beareth witness with my spirit, I can go with joy; otherwise I must abandon the path, however dear to nature, for I have died, and my life is hid with Christ in God.
I cannot refrain from adding—and those who seek to follow Him closely will know the blessedness of these words: “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake” (Psa. 23).
“Thou wilt show me the path of life. In thy presence is fullness of joy; at thy right hand are pleasures for evermore” (Psa. 16:11).
A. E. S.