A DAY OF JOY AND GLADNESS.
The reader has already learned that after Ansel had confessed himself an
anxious inquirer and professed himself willing to obey Christ, he remained
three or four weeks still in darkness. Others found peace in believing,
but he felt no joyful confidence that Christ had received him and forgiven
his sins. He sometimes felt almost discouraged, and sometimes was tempted
to complain of God for not treating him as favorably as others, or to feel
chagrined because others were rejoicing, while he found no light. But he
fought against these evil thoughts and insinuations of Satan, and did not
flag in his private devotions or cease to confess himself, always and
everywhere, an anxious inquirer, still in darkness, but desiring to find
the grace of God. If ever he was tempted to push away all concern about
salvation and return by force to his former careless state, the words of
Christ would come to his mind: "Will ye also go away?" and Peter's answer,
"Lord, to whom shall we go? for thou hast the words of eternal life." The
alternative, salvation by Christ or the loss of his soul, stared him in
the face.
"I can but perish if I go;
I am resolved to try;
For if I stay away, I know,
I must for ever die."
Great interest was felt for him and much prayer was offered in his behalf,
but he seemed to make no progress toward a better state. Mr. Wilton had
talked with him, but had failed to discover what it was that hindered his
humble acceptance of the grace of Christ. After long and anxious musing
upon Ansel's character and surroundings and the previous conversations
which he had had with him, Mr. Wilton determined to probe him more fully.
For this reason he invited Ansel to his study, where the following
conversation transpired:
"Good-morning, my young friend; how do you find yourself to-day?"
"I am feeling, I think, very much as when I was here a week ago."
"Are you becoming discouraged and almost ready to give up all effort to
follow Christ?"
"I do sometimes feel very much discouraged, but I am not ready to give up
my interest in religion."
"Have you no more enjoyment in reading the Scriptures and in your prayer
in secret than you had a week ago?"
"I think that I am trying to do right in doing these things, and I enjoy
them better than I should if I felt that I was doing something wrong, but
I do not feel as I think a Christian ought to feel."
"Are your thoughts and feelings and opinions about Christ and salvation
the same as they were six weeks ago?"
"I think they are very different."
"I am glad to hear that; but can you tell how they are different?"
"At that time I felt that I was a sinner, but was fighting against that
feeling. I wished that Christ would let me alone, and that the Holy Spirit
would not trouble me. But now I very much wish that I may feel my sins,
and that Christ may come to me and save me. I wish to follow the Spirit."
"Did you expect a month ago that at this time you would be feeling and
acting as you now feel and act?"
"No, sir; I meant then to fight it through, and not let anybody know how I
felt."
"Do you wish now that you had fought it through, as you proposed, and kept
all your feelings to yourself?"
"I am very thankful that I did not keep on hiding my feelings. I almost
tremble to think what the result would have been."
"You have said that you wish to spend your life in serving Christ. Does it
seem to you a hard and painful work--a work that you would get rid of if
you could--or does working for Christ and confessing Christ before men
seem attractive?"
"I think his service seems pleasant; there is no other life that seems
half as pleasant."
"Do you believe that Christ is able to save you?"
"I suppose he is. If he cannot save me, there is no hope for me, for I
cannot save myself."
"Do you believe that he is willing to save you?"
"I think he is, if I come to him and trust in him. I suppose he is willing
to save all who come to him."
"Are you unwilling to come to him--to trust him and submit to him?"
"I don't know; I have tried to come to Christ, but I have met with no such
change as I have always supposed that a Christian ought to have."
"What do you think it is that hinders your coming into light and joy as
others have done?"
"I cannot tell. I suppose it must be something or other in myself, but I
cannot guess what it is."
"I would like to ask you a few questions which you may think rather close
and personal, and which you may find it hard to answer frankly. You know
the spiritual adviser, as well as the physician, must first of all find
out the condition of the patient."
"I am willing to have you ask any questions you please, and I will try to
answer them as well as I can."
"Did you ever think, Ansel, that you were very ambitious?"
"I knew that, like many others, I was a little ambitious, but I never
thought that I was very much so."
"Perhaps you were more ambitious than you thought. You know that you would
work day and night rather than not stand at the head of every class you
were in. On the play-ground you asserted your position as leader in every
game. Did you not carry the same idea of being chief into your plans and
expectations for the future? You were ambitious of standing the very first
whatever course of life you might follow. Was not this so?"
"I don't know: I can't deny it; I think it was."
"It is possible, Ansel, that you are trying to carry the same ambition
into the kingdom of Christ. Perhaps you have wished in conversion some
brilliant experience which would draw attention to you. Tell me how this
is. Would you be satisfied to have a commonplace experience, such as
thousands of others have, which would attract no special notice? Have you
not formed an idea of the great and brilliant change you must pass
through, and are you not refusing to take anything else from the Lord's
hands?"
Tears gathered in Ansel's eyes, and his face worked painfully. At length
he answered: "Your question is a hard one to answer, but I cannot deny it;
I am afraid it is so. I have heard persons tell of the great load of sin
like a pack on their shoulders, and of the earth seeming as if it would
open and swallow them up, of sleepless nights and unspeakable anguish, and
then of light and joy, so that they could never doubt that they were
converted. I have been expecting that I was to have such an experience,
but I have not seen it. Is it wrong to wish for such an experience?"
"It is certainly wrong to _insist_ upon such an experience. God leads each
one to himself in his own chosen way. There was but one Saul, whom Christ
met and blinded with the dazzling light. As a general rule, when a sinner
makes up his mind in what way he will be converted, the Lord will
disappoint him. If he fixes in his mind that he will not come to an
anxious-seat, or will not confess his feelings till he can say that his
sins are pardoned, or will not do anything else, the Lord will very
likely bring him to do the very thing he resolved that he would not do.
If he attempts to bring his ambitious aspirations into Christ's kingdom,
he will be disappointed. 'The first shall be last and the last first.' Men
become great in Christian service by counting themselves the least of all,
and humbling themselves to become the servants of all. You need to examine
yourself in this matter. If you have looked for something great and
startling, be contented with something small and commonplace. It is an
unspeakable privilege to be brought into Christ's kingdom in any manner.
It is sometimes a great blessing to have a very unmarked and plain style
of conversion. Such a convert is compelled to look to the truly scriptural
evidences of a change of heart instead of resting upon the evidence, often
deceptive, of a great and sudden illumination or a fancied voice from
heaven. Some of the greatest and best of men have been unable to tell at
all the time of their conversion. Richard Baxter could not tell even the
year of his change. The best experiences I have known have been those
where the converts could tell very little about themselves; they had been
doing something else besides looking into themselves to watch the motions
of their own thoughts."
"I will try to do as you say. But what kind of evidence am I to look for?"
"The same kind of evidence which you now look for in me or any other
Christian. It is not one thing to come to Christ and another thing to
follow Christ. The best evidence that a sinner has come to Christ is that
he actually follows Christ and serves him. 'By their fruits ye shall know
them.' 'Bring forth fruits meet for repentance,' said John the Baptist.
Bring forth fruits that show that your thoughts about sin, and about
Christ, and about the service of Christ have been changed. Look for the
same kind of evidence in yourself that you would look for in any stranger
whom you should meet. But above all things take the words of Jesus as true
and rest on them; consecrate yourself to Jesus with all the heart; with
lowliness of mind hold yourself ready for any work or any sacrifice; you
will find that evidences will take care of themselves. When men come into
sympathy with Christ, when they believe his words, walk with him, and talk
with him, and bear the cross with him, when they enter into a partnership
of service and suffering with Christ,--the Spirit bears witness with their
spirits that they are born of God."
"I will try to follow your advice, and am very thankful that you have
spoken about my ambitious spirit."
"Another caution I wish to give you. Do not think that you, by any methods
or by cherishing any spirit, are to make yourself fit to be saved. If you
are saved at all, Christ must take you as a sinner, and a great sinner. If
you get rid of your spirit of pride, it will be by Christ's saving you
from it. Let me also suggest to you that which a consideration of your
associations suggested to me, that you may have stumbled at the idea of
baptism. You must have heard baptism spoken of very disrespectfully, and
it is possible that you may have learned to look upon it as a humiliation
and a reproach. You may have recoiled from the thought of submitting to
it."
"That was my feeling once, but since I have been willing to have my
feelings known I have ceased to be afraid of what those who despise
religion may say."
"Be careful now, since you feel that your sympathies are with the
Christian band, that your love of greatness does not lead you to resist
the Spirit. Be willing to be small. Be thankful for small gifts. I trust
that your present feelings will before long give place to a humble trust,
a childlike confidence, and a holy boldness in Christ, and that your
usefulness in the kingdom of God will be all the greater because he now
requires you in the beginning to trample under foot your budding pride and
die to all human ambitions."
When Ansel gave up the idea of a wonderful conversion, a sudden
illumination which should bring with it something of eclat, he found that
he could understand the Scriptures better and have more enjoyment in his
religious duties. While he humbled himself, hoping for little, he found
his soul soon filled with a deep, quiet joy.
The next Saturday afternoon was the regular time for the covenant-meeting,
and also, according to custom, for hearing the experiences of any who
wished to unite with the church by baptism. Ansel, Peter, and Mr. Hume
came, along with others, to present themselves to the church. In regard to
Mr. Hume there had been much speculation among his former comrades as to
what course he would take. Some said: "Mr. Hume will never wet the sole
of his foot in that river. Don't you remember how he used to laugh at the
idea of being plunged in the river in honor of a dead man? He may talk in
meeting, but it is a very different thing to go down into the river with
the whole hillside covered with people." Others said: "We can't tell what
has come over him, but he will not go back now. He has gone too far to
retreat."
Some even ventured to approach Mr. Hume himself with their raillery:
"What do you think now of being dipped in the river in honor of a dead
man?"
"I think that I would be willing to be baptized a thousand times if I
could recall by that means what I have spoken against baptism."
"And what, Mr. Hume, about the ice water?"
"You know and I know," he answered, "that we always respected those who
did not shrink from cold water for Christ's sake. What effeminacy, what
more than effeminacy, for a resolute man to hesitate and tremble at
baptism! We should be ashamed of such weakness in any worldly matter. I
have given you occasion for all your raillery, but as I once was a leader
in evil, so I wish that I might lead you to better things."
Ansel, Peter, and the rest gave an account of their religious experiences,
and last of all Mr. Hume.
"What leads you," asked Mr. Wilton, "to present yourself to the church,
asking for baptism?"
"I think that the love of Christ leads me. I have done a great deal
against Christ, and now I wish, if possible, to do something to show my
love for him. I come to obey the word and example of Christ by being
buried with him in baptism."
They were received for baptism, and the time of administration fixed at
half-past twelve o'clock the next day.
The Lord's Day was cold and blustering. Many were disappointed, for they
hoped that the day would prove warm and sunny. But the blustering day did
not prevent the gathering of a great company by the riverside. As the
congregations left the churches they turned their steps toward the place
of baptism. Ungodly men turned out, and those who never came to hear the
preaching of the gospel flocked together to see the gospel preached by
this symbolic service. The word had gone out that Mr. Hume was to be
baptized, and this drew together his former associates. At the place
chosen the river swept around in a gentle curve and the bank rose up like
a magnificent amphitheatre; while just above, the land put out into the
water and threw the current upon the opposite side. Here gathered almost
the entire population of the village to witness that simple and solemn
service which from the days of John the Baptist has thrilled so many
hearts. The candidates came warmly clad, brought from their own homes in a
close carriage. Gathered there, the little band of Christians, surrounded
by so great a cloud of witnesses, first sang the hymn commencing:
"Thou hast said, exalted Jesus,
Take thy cross and follow me;
Shall the word with terror seize us?
Shall we from the burden flee?
Lord, I'll take it,
And rejoicing follow thee."
Then Mr. Wilton read with a voice that reached all the company a few
passages from the New Testament which authorized and commanded that
service. After that he prayed that the joyful presence of Christ might
attend those about to follow him in baptism, that believers might be
encouraged, and careless sinners awakened. One by one the converts were
buried with Christ, and one by one they came up out of the water,
forgetting all else in the joy of obedience. They sang the words
consecrated by use at so many riversides:
"Oh how happy are they
Who their Saviour obey,
And have laid up their treasure above!
Tongue can never express
The sweet comfort and peace
Of a soul in its earliest love."
These words found a response in many hearts.
High up upon the river bank were gathered a little knot of mocking
unbelievers. One among them, seven years before, had publicly professed
his faith in Christ. For a little time he seemed to be treading in the
Lord's ways, but falling among evil associates, he not only neglected
Christian duties, but became a professed unbeliever. He read infidel books
and loaned them to others. He sought to sow the seeds of unbelief wherever
he went. Upon this Lord's Day he stood with others profanely mocking at
the sacred service. With shivering, tremulous accents he exclaimed, "Poor
Harry Gill is very cold; I would not go into the water to please any
Christ for five hundred dollars." That young man went home with deep
conviction of sin upon him. Two days after, Mr. Wilton was called at ten
o'clock at night to visit him. He was trembling like an aspen leaf with
his deep anguish of conscience, and for two days and nights his body shook
under his fear. Then little by little faith took the place of fear, and
hope smiled upon him. He was the next person whom Mr. Wilton baptized.
Look in upon the Christian band assembled that Lord's Day evening. Upon
the faces of those who had been baptized there was no sign that the
service of that day had been painful; if they had done the duty as a
cross, the cross must have been quickly followed by a crown of joy, for
every face was radiant with light. Among them was one little girl twelve
years of age whose face, as she rose from the water, shone like the face
of an angel, and the transfiguration of that moment had hardly begun to
fade away. Ansel was peacefully happy, and from the face of Mr. Hume the
old look of dissatisfaction was all gone; his soul had entered into rest,
and he felt at home. Every one of them testified that it had been the
happiest day of his life. They declared themselves willing for Christ's
sake to be baptized a hundred times if he commanded. They had already
found that "in keeping his commandments there is great reward."
I should be glad, kind reader, to trace with you the Christian course of
these disciples through the years that follow. But we must leave them. I
am sure, however, that their course will be upward. Their experience was
not the mere effervescence of fickle feeling. The word of God germinated
in their hearts; they had root in themselves. They believed, they believed
the truths of the gospel, and therefore they felt, and therefore they
acted. "Whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world," and believing
that they were truly born of the Spirit, we are confident that "he which
hath begun a good work in them will perform it until the day of Jesus
Christ."