Conversion and Sanctification
A few years after I became a helpless invalid, I was somewhat wrought upon
by the Spirit of God, but had no advice as to what I should do. I joined
the M. E. Church on probation, although I was yet unsaved. The minister who
received me into the church, did not inquire whether I was saved or not,
nor did he ask about my spiritual welfare.
In my nineteenth year I was convicted of my sins, after the following
circumstance: I was having a quarrel with one of my younger brothers. We
were both high-spirited and each wanted to have his own way. While the
quarrel was in progress, Mother came on the scene, and what she heard was
enough to make her heart ache. "Mary, why don't you set a better example?"
"Mother," I said, "he commenced on me first. If you make him behave
himself, I will behave." "Mary, I am afraid you children will never stop
your quarreling until you land in perdition; and if I were out of the way,
you would soon be there. You act just as if you wanted me out of the way."
I saw her standing there as pale as a corpse with the big tears rolling
down her face. She was always pale in those days. I said, "Mother, don't
break my heart." "Mary," said she, "you broke my heart first." "Mother,
won't you forgive me?" "Yes," she answered, "I forgive you; but there is
one higher than I whom you have offended, and you will have to ask his
forgiveness."
Up to that time I was not under conviction, but the Lord now began to
answer the prayer of my oldest brother, who had been praying for my
conviction. That same evening I went into the garden, and earnestly asked
the Lord to convict me of my sins. I remember now that he had convicted me
in the past but that I had resisted until conviction left me. I said to the
Lord, "I will not fight conviction now if it kills me right on the spot."
The Lord took me at my word; he knew I meant what I said with all my heart.
I arose from my knees, and walked toward the house, with such a deep
realization of God's displeasure on my lost soul that it seemed as if the
earth would open and swallow me up. I shall never forget that awful
experience. I think I fully comprehended God's displeasure against
rebellious souls, but in his wrath he remembered mercy, and I found myself
seeking God with all my heart. I could not weep, but my heart was sincere
and deeply determined to seek God until I should know that I was saved.
I did not find the Lord at once and the enemy brought discouragement
against my soul. I was just about to come to the conclusion that I would
seek God only a week, and that if I did not find him then I would quit. But
as I walked through the front room, I noticed an old Methodist hymn-book
lying on the stand. I opened it and as God would have it, my eyes fell on
these lines: "And will you basely to the tempter yield?" Going to the
kitchen where Mother was washing, I said, "Mother, there is a hymn in this
book that ought to be torn out." She said, "Why, Mary?" After I had read
the line to her she said, "Mary, can't you adopt the next line as yours?
'No, in the strength of Jesus, no, I never will give up my shield.'" I
decided then and there to seek God until the day of my death, or until I
found him.
My oldest brother and I went to prayer. He asked me to pray, but all I have
ever remembered saying is, "Lord have mercy on me. Lord hear me." He said,
"Mary, the Lord does have mercy on you and the Lord does hear you, or you
could not have prayed as you have been praying." He asked me whether I was
willing to live or die for the Lord; and I said, "I am willing to live, but
I am not willing to die in this condition," He replied, "All the Lord wants
is your will. He will not let you die in this condition when you want to
get saved." But I still persisted that I wasn't willing to die in that
condition.
Then the enemy tried to bring confusion upon me. The burden of my guilt was
all gone and the devil suggested that I was worse than I had thought, that
my heart was so hard I could not mourn for my sins any more. Howbeit, the
dear Lord came to my rescue. He reminded me that my repentance was genuine,
and therefore accepted by him; and that all he required of me was to
exercise faith in his promises, and that if I could not do that
immediately, I could begin to quote his word, "Lord, I believe; help thou
my unbelief." I kept repeating that declaration and prayer all day long and
until late in the afternoon.
I got hold of a little tract in which God's promises were simplified; for
instance, "He is our light in darkness; our wisdom in ignorance; our
counsellor in perplexity." I said, "Lord, I am perplexed: the burden of
guilt is gone and I can't mourn any more, but I can't say that I am saved."
Mother had said that the Lord had shown her that she was saved, and I felt
sure that as God is no respecter of persons, he must show me that I was
saved too. I could not be satisfied short of that; so I said, "Lord, I take
thee as my counsellor in perplexity." Then I repeated, "Lord, I believe;
help thou my unbelief." Before the sentence had dropped from my lips, I
said, "Lord, I know; Lord, I know."
I can not tell you how happy I was. I arose from my knees, started out of
my chamber and to my surprise met the brother with whom I had quarreled. "O
Oliver," I said, "the Lord has had mercy on me and saved me." I shall never
forget that day. It was May 3, 1871.
Up to that time I had not opened my heart to my father concerning my soul's
condition and needs, as he was not living a satisfactory life himself, but
when I went to the supper table, I was so happy that I said, "O Father,
help me praise the Lord." Not knowing how my soul had been longing for God
and a new life, he said, "Mary, what has broken loose?" I answered, "I
can't praise Him enough; I want you to help me praise him." I was too happy
to eat supper, and so went out into the yard and walked up and down
praising the Lord to my soul's content.
I might say here, it was not fear of everlasting punishment that caused me
to seek God, but a good faithful mother's love. I did not want to grieve
her heart and as I could not keep from doing so without help from above, I
sought salvation with this end in view. At this time there came very
forcibly to me the scripture about Mary's anointing the Lord before his
burial. I decided that she should be my example. I would give Mother some
of the flowers of my experience, and not wait until after she was dead and
buried. Had I waited to strew flowers over her grave, I would have expected
to hear people say, "She is nothing but a hypocrite. She did not treat her
mother right while she was living, and now she is trying to make a show."
Let us take a lesson from Mary of old--give flowers to the living; but if
we have no flowers, let us see to it that we do not give thorns. It was
thorns that the enemies of Christ placed upon his brow in mockery.
Later I found that there was something in me that did not want to treat
Mother just right--a disposition arising in my heart to disobey her. I felt
that this grieved the Lord; and I went and asked him to forgive me. One day
I said, "Mother, I am going to set down on paper a record of every day that
I keep from getting mad." As I had a very high temper, Mother thought it
very foolish for me to undertake such a record. Nevertheless, day after day
went by in which I did not become angry, until a month had elapsed; I had
not been angry for a month.
Just a month after I was saved, my oldest brother, who was a minister, came
with a message on the subject of sanctification. He explained the doctrine
to Mother and me and showed us our privilege of attaining to this grace.
Before noon of that day we made a complete consecration for time and for
eternity, grasped the promises, and both of us received the experience. I
am sure that my consecration was made in great ignorance; but the Lord
understood that I was sincere, and graciously granted me the experience.
When I received the sanctifying grace, I did not think of demonstration, or
of great feeling, or of anything of that kind: I simply consecrated all a
living sacrifice, and reckoned myself dead indeed unto sin and alive unto
God through our Lord Jesus Christ. I met the conditions and believed that
the work was done.
Not until the tempter came, did I fully realize what God had done in
sanctifying me. That evening the devil tested me in such a way that had
there been any of the old Adam in me, it would have been stirred up; but,
thank God! the devil found nothing to work upon. God had removed that
depraved nature, the sin-principle inherited from the fall of Adam. As
there was nothing but God's glory in my soul, nothing but glory could
bubble up, no matter how severe the temptation. I felt so secure--just as
if I were out in mid-ocean upon a solid rock, the waves dashing all around
me, but powerless to disturb my security and the peace of my soul.
Soon after I was sanctified, I testified to my experience, in a Methodist
quarterly meeting. The presiding elder made fun of me: he said, "The
testimonies of those that claim to be sanctified, sound just like the tones
of an old cracked cow-bell. There was only one good testimony made this
evening; and that was by one who did not profess sanctification." My only
persecution at home came from a neighbor who made fun of my prayers. Her
oft-repeated expression was, "Pray like old Mary Cole." Later when her
grandchild lay dying, she called on me to pray four times within
twenty-four hours. After the child was dead, she said she was hurt because
I did not pray for the child's healing, because she was sure that if I had
done so the child would have lived.
A minister who came onto our circuit some time after this decided that
those who had the experience of sanctification should not testify to it. He
gave as his reason that he wanted to bring the people to a level in their
experiences; in other words, he wanted to bring the sanctified ones down to
lift the justified ones up, until they would all be on an equality in
experience. Two sisters who were sanctified, came to me and said, "Sister
Cole, we have come to the conclusion that we won't testify to
sanctification this year, lest we offend the minister." I replied, "If the
minister is going to oppose sanctification, so much the more will I testify
to it throughout the year." I did so, and God wonderfully blessed me. These
women stopped testifying to please the preacher; and before the year was
out, they and the preacher were having trouble.
After I was sanctified, I was so happy and victorious in my soul, that I
wanted to tell my experience to others. At one time I was talking to a lady
old enough to be my grandmother, telling her how happy I was, and how I
enjoyed the fulness of God's blessing. She seemed to appreciate my story
greatly; but after I got through, the thought came to me that she would
think that I felt myself important in trying to instruct one so much older
than myself.
Although I did not know it at the time, this was the enemy whispering to
me. I apologized to her for saying anything about my experience: "You must
not get hurt at me because I have talked so to you, but I am very happy in
the Lord." Looking at me steadily she said, "You are not worth getting hurt
over." I saw the point. This was God's reproof. I learned my lesson; and so
far as I know, I have never made an apology for what the Lord has done for
me.