PROPHETS AND PROPHETESSES.
The year 1896 was marked by the publication of _Personal Reminiscences
of a Great Crusade_, in which Josephine Butler gives a vivid history
of the first ten years of the strenuous fight against the Contagious
Diseases Acts. She hoped to be able to continue the history in a
subsequent volume, but ill-health prevented the fulfilment of this
design.
In the following year the question of the health of the Indian Army
came very prominently again before the public eye. The passing of the
Act of 1895, which absolutely prohibited the compulsory examination
of women, had been followed by a marked increase of disease, perhaps
largely due to the fact that the new measure had been accompanied by
the closing of the special hospitals in many of the Cantonments, so
that no opportunity was afforded of testing the effect of substituting
the voluntary system of hospital treatment (always advocated by
Josephine Butler and her fellow workers) for the old compulsory
system. But, whatever the cause may have been, the statistics were
such as to produce a panic among persons, who were not accustomed to
study statistics, and did not therefore realise that figures relating
to a few years may often deceive, and that a true judgment can only
be gained by careful comparison of facts and figures spread over long
periods. The panic was so great that a Departmental Committee was
appointed at the India Office to enquire into the matter; and the
Government received several memorials on both sides of the question.
One of the memorials, praying for the reintroduction of the regulation
system, was signed by women, including princesses and other ladies of
title. This roused Josephine Butler to issue a passionate and powerful
pamphlet, _Truth before Everything_.
My own countrywomen have been the first in the world to set their seal
to the infernal doctrine of the necessity of vice, and to proffer to
our Imperial Government before the whole world, what Lady Frederick
Cavendish rightly styles their “counsels of despair.” The scene has
changed indeed; we accept the fact, and look it full in the face. For
my own part, I do so without alarm for our cause, and scarcely even
with surprise, although my heart is wounded with a sense of shame,
and I mourn for those whose eyes are blinded to the truth. Men and
women alike in the most exalted social classes frequently possess
extraordinarily little knowledge of the conditions of life among the
poor, and consequently little sympathy with the humbler people who are
the most liable to suffer under grievances imposed officially, over and
above the hardships incidental to their condition. High rank itself
tends to confuse and obscure the mental vision on a subject concerning
which, of all others, we need to know the instincts and convictions of
the people, and to make room for the expression of the great heart of
toiling and suffering humanity, which still so largely beats true among
us, and in all lands.
The Government however did not reintroduce the _old_ regulation
system, but while they expressly laid down that no registration,
and no periodical and compulsory examination of women should be
permitted, they suggested that the special diseases in question
should be made notifiable and dealt with in the same manner as other
contagious diseases. Accordingly a new Cantonment Act was passed in
the same year, and new Cantonment Regulations made, under which women
suspected of being diseased may be expelled from the Cantonments,
unless they submit to medical treatment. Abolitionists have always
objected to these Regulations, which are still in force, with some
later modifications, because they appear capable of being worked in
such a way as to involve indirectly, but no less truly, the whole
method of compulsion, which was inherent in the old system, and
because the Act of 1895, which expressly prohibited registration and
examination, has been repealed.
In May, 1897, Josephine Butler contributed to _Wings_ a short article
on the “Joy of God,” part of which is here given.
Jesus spoke much of His joy in His last wonderful conversation with
His disciples: “That my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be
full” (John xv, 11). His joy is His Father’s joy. I do not believe that
_that_ joy is ever interrupted. It flows on like a mighty river, like
God Himself, its source—infinite, unceasing, unfathomable joy; and
Jesus offers _us_ to be sharers in it. It is not possible that the joy
of God can be interrupted by the works of the devil, by his apparent
present victories. God’s joy continues, eternal like Himself, through
all the evils and sorrows and horrors of earth, and of the kingdom
of darkness, for He sees beyond all. He knows that the end will be
_victory_. Jesus feels for His people’s sufferings, and suffers with
them; nevertheless His joy is not diminished. It seemed to me one day,
as if for a moment I saw the Divine face looking down at all that is
taking place in these days, and (if I dare to express it) it seemed as
if there were tears in those Divine and pitying eyes: yet all the time
there was a smile upon the lips, for while He pitied He knew what the
end would be, and He smiled.
It was a half-waking vision I had when I was recovering from illness
at Lausanne. I felt as if the obstacles in the way of all our efforts
for reforms and for blessing were like huge high walls blocking the
way and darkening the daylight on every side. But as I looked, and as
I felt the pitying, smiling face of God, and all these walls got lower
and lower, till they were quite low, and above and around them all was
God’s great sky, His open, clear, and glorious heavens, I sprang on the
top of one of these low walls (like some of the low vineyard walls in
Switzerland), and I shouted for joy and victory!
Later in the year she contributed a series of articles to _Wings_,
which were republished under the title, _Prophets and Prophetesses_:
some thoughts for the present times. A French translation of this was
also issued. The rest of the present chapter contains extracts from
this volume.
How greatly are prophets and prophetesses needed in these days, days in
which the air is filled with a confusion of voices—some of them mocking
voices, some of them wailing and sorrowful voices—when false prophets
abound, lying spirits, demon worshippers and materialists. The promise
stands in the Scriptures of God that He will send true prophets and
prophetesses in the latter days. Where are they? Why is that promise
not abundantly fulfilled? It _will_ be fulfilled if we, who believe His
word, combine to ask its fulfilment. The word, to prophesy, is best
translated by the learned as “to show forth the mind of God” on any
matter. What a high gift! What a holy endowment this, to be enabled to
show or set forth to man the mind or thought of God! In order to attain
to that gift, the soul must live habitually in the closest union with
God, in Christ, so as to realise the prayer of the saint who cried,
“_Henceforth, O Lord, let me think Thy thought and speak Thy speech._”
Many even of our holiest men and women live too active, too hurried a
life, to be able to enter deeply into the thought of God, and thence
to speak that thought to the thirsty multitudes who are dimly seeking
after Him, and in their hearts crying, “Who will show us any good?”
That women as well as men were destined by God to be prophets was fully
acknowledged by St. Paul, by his acts as well as his words. He gave
careful directions as to how women were to appear as prophetesses, so
as to avoid the malicious criticism of the enemies of the new-born
faith, ever on the watch for some ground of accusation against the
Christians. It is an astonishing and a melancholy thing that the
churches and their ministers, and the Christian world in general
through all these generations, should apparently have ignored or made
light of the following blessed fact, the fact that on the day of
Pentecost, the great day when the Holy Spirit was poured forth on
that multitude of all peoples and nations gathered in Jerusalem, when
the New Dispensation was inaugurated in which we now live, the Apostle
Peter, in his magnificent first Pentecostal sermon, proclaimed the
actual _fulfilment_ on that day, and for all the days to come, of the
promise of the prophet Joel, “I will pour out of my Spirit upon all
flesh; and your sons and your _daughters_ shall prophesy; and on my
servants and on my _handmaidens_ I will pour out of my Spirit.”“This
has come unto you,” said St. Peter, “which was spoken by the Prophet
Joel.” Is it possible that the Church has ever fully believed this,
has ever truly heard or understood this mighty utterance from heaven,
recorded first in the Hebrew Scripture, and again at the great
inauguration of the Dispensation under which we are now living, a
Dispensation of Liberty, Life, Impartiality, Equality, and Justice, in
which there is, or should be,“neither male nor female, neither Jew nor
Greek”?
When Kepler, the great astronomer, was congratulated on the wonderful
discovery he had made—in what are now called Kepler’s Laws, on which
Newton based his own still greater discoveries—he (Kepler), full of
Christian humility, replied, “I have only thought God’s thoughts after
Him.” We need, and we ask of God, prophets and prophetesses, seers, who
will see as God sees, and who will judge of all things in the light of
God. They will be very unpopular, these seers, if they are faithful.
Many of the humbler people will hear them gladly, but the world will
not love them. Quite the contrary. Conventional morality does not
like to be disturbed; the respectable as well as the disreputable
prejudices of ages are hard to root up.
Never did the world and the Church need seers more than at the
present time. Looking at any of the great questions before us now—the
relations of nation to nation, and of the Anglo-Saxon race to the
heathen populations of conquered countries; questions of gold-seeking,
of industry, of capital and labour, of the influence of wealth, now
so great a power in our country and its dependencies; questions of
legal enactments, of the action of Governments, and innumerable social
and economic problems—we may ask, How much of the light of heaven is
permitted to fall on those questions? How many or how few are there
among us who ask, and seek, and knock and wait, to know _God’s thought_
on these matters? The few, who do so, cease to accept as a guide a
daily newspaper, or the opinion of the Press generally, or the verdict
of any class, theological, social, or political; nor even are they
satisfied to set their minds at rest by an appeal to the best and
wisest of the servants of God. But in their measure they follow in the
steps of the prophets of old. It is in the solitude of the soul, alone
with God, that His thoughts are revealed. It is in great humility, in
separation from the spirit of the world, in asking and receiving _His_
spirit, “the spirit of truth,” which “shall guide us into all truth,”
that we learn to think His thoughts.
It requires much courage to be alone with God, to elect to retire for
a time, and even for long times, and to listen to _His_ voice only.
It requires more courage than is needed to meet human opposition or
to battle with an outward enemy, and is altogether different from
worship in the congregation with others around us. Let anyone who
doubts this make the trial, in humble determination, “I will not let
Thee go except Thou bless me,” until Thou admittest me to the inner
sanctuary of Thy presence, and speakest to me. For it is then that the
keen searchlight of His presence reveals the innermost recesses of the
soul, so that the creature who has been bold enough to seek such a
solitary interview with the Creator shall fall on his face, as Daniel
did, in self-abasement: “I Daniel fainted, and was sick certain days.”
It is then that all which is of self, all subtle egotism—the egotism
which takes such a multitude of forms—is searched and hunted out of the
soul. It cannot live in His presence. The praise of man becomes as dust
beneath the feet, and the soul trembles even to receive any honour of
men, or to be recognised in this world as of any worth.
It is then also, that the great enemy of souls essays to draw near,
bringing all his forces to bear on that divinely bold but humbled
creature, and seeking to wreck the blessing which he knows must come
of such an interview between Christ and a human soul. It is then that
he disputes every inch of the ground sought to be won on that day by
the Saviour, and by the disciple whom His spirit has stirred up to
draw thus awfully near to Him. Jesus was “led of the Spirit” into the
wilderness to be tempted of the Devil. It is in the very heart of this
great dispute between our God and Satan, and in such a solitude, that
some of the deepest truths are learned, and that God speaks. Then
the enemy is defeated, and only the light is left, the light which
was sought and which reveals God’s thought. And what is the sequel of
such an encounter? There are many who can bear witness that the enemy,
discouraged by the courage of the humble and determined soul, departs
never to return, and then it pleases the Lord sometimes, in His great
love and pity, to grant to His child, in a measure, that communion
which the Hebrew saint had, with whom God spoke face to face as a man
speaks with _his friend_.
We are not all called to be teachers, or to declare aloud the mind of
God; not all called to prophesy. But all are invited to draw near to
Him, to come nearer and nearer, and the humblest, the least gifted or
least intelligent, who will elect to receive ever at first hand and
from the fountain-head, and not only from secondary sources, light,
life and knowledge, becomes, whether he knows it or not, a medium of
spiritual life and true thoughts to others, in proportion to the grace
given to him.
* * * * *
“Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart
of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him. But
God hath revealed them unto us by His spirit; for the Spirit searcheth
all things, yea, the deep things of God.” These words are frequently
understood to be spoken of the other life beyond the grave, and of the
beauties and glories of our heavenly home, which, as yet, no eye of
those living on earth has ever seen. This limited interpretation is
not warranted by the latter half of the announcement, “But God hath
revealed them unto us by His Spirit.” The illumination of the Spirit is
not a promise of the future only; it is given here on earth to all who
seek and wait for it in truth and singleness of heart. We are living
to-day under the dispensation of the Spirit, and there is no limit to
the fulness of the promise to those who ask.
Those things therefore, those hidden and deep things of God which
we cannot apprehend by the natural eye or ear, and which cannot be
conceived by the highest and purest flights of imagination of one whose
thoughts do not yet flow in unison with God’s thoughts—those things may
be revealed to us by His Spirit; and they _are_ so revealed to those
whom from time to time He draws aside for solitary communion with Him,
and whom He may, if He wills, appoint to speak His speech to all who
will hear. One needful condition for attaining to the seeing eye and
the hearing ear in the things of God is soul-leisure, quietness, calm
and concentration of spirit. Earth’s voices must be silenced for a
time, that the voice of God—the“still small voice”—may be heard by the
waiting soul. “In returning and rest shall ye be saved. In quietness
and in confidence shall be your strength.”
I seem to hear a deep sigh from the heart of many a true servant of
God, “faint yet pursuing,” whose soul is athirst for the Living God and
for the calm and the silence in which he may hear the Divine voice, but
who sees no way of escape from the pressing claims of earthly duty.
The case of such (which has also been my own) calls forth my deepest
sympathy. “With God all things are possible.” Cease from conflict with
circumstances, from this “toiling in rowing,” from this breathless
swimming against the tide. Put the matter into His hands. “There was
silence in heaven about the space of half an hour” at His command;
silence even of the angelic voices. He can create a silence around you,
and trace a clear path for your feet to enter into the Holy of Holies,
where you shall find Him and hear His voice.
But even then—perhaps you tell me—when the pressure of earthly claims
is lightened, and a season is granted in which nothing from without
holds you back, and you enter alone into His presence, even then it
is found impossible to concentrate the mind, to shake off outward
anxieties and the intrusion of restless thoughts concerning the work of
your life. The well by which you rest is deep and full, but you have
“nothing to draw with.” The opportunity is there, but the soul is dry,
and the brain inexpressibly wearied. Again, “with God all things are
possible,” and “all things are possible to him that believeth.” Put
this also into His hands—this incapacity for rest, even when the hour
of rest is granted. He knows the deep desire of your heart to draw near
to Him. Your desire for communion with Him is prompted and created by
His own desire to draw near to you, to grant you the anointed eyes of a
humble seer, and to impart to you His own deep secrets of love.
But to many this thirst of the soul is unknown, or once known is
suffered to rest unslaked. Many continue to postpone and to subordinate
the claims of the spiritual life to the constantly pressing claims
(sacred claims also) of their fellow creatures, and of the good works
in which they are engaged. At the last, when earth’s claims are fading
and the spirit is called into the presence of God, conscience will
speak, and the poor soul may reproach itself in the spirit of the
lament which Shakespeare put into the mouth of Wolsey in his last
moments: “O Cromwell, Cromwell! had I but served my God with half the
zeal that I have served my king!” In the clearer light of eternity all
things assume their right proportion. We have worked, we have slaved
for duty, we have worn ourselves out in the service of humanity. That
is good, that is noble; yet an inward voice will tell us in some silent
hour that we should have worked better and served humanity better had
we possessed the moral force to withdraw at times from life’s crowded
avenues, had we firmly refused some of the thousand claims which
pressed upon us in order that our speech and our action might have
possessed more of the Divine, more of “spirit and of life.”