If it were not for clouds and storms what a sunshiny world this would
be, to be sure! But there are clouds and storms everywhere that I know
anything about. There are legends of lands of perpetual sunshine, I
know. I have visited such climates. I have found clouds and storms
there also. The natives have told me that such were exceptional.
Doubtless they were, but the clouds shut out the sunshine there, just
the same as they do elsewhere, and I took a terrible cold once, one
that came near being the death of me, from going off without an
umbrella, in a country where I was positively assured it never
rained--at least, not at that season of the year.
So the result of all this is that I have learned to distrust the tales
of eternal fair weather in any spot on all this green earth, no matter
how strongly they may be backed up by the affidavits of good,
well-meaning, and otherwise truthful men and women.
It is so easy to state an opinion that is not based upon a sufficient
number of facts to warrant its assertion.
What has happened to me in the matter of sunshine and storm, in this
weather-beaten world, happened to "Dodd" Weaver in his religious
experience.
He started out boldly in his new life. He hoped and trusted that he
had entered into a physical, mental, and spiritual condition in which
all that he had been he might not be; all that he should be he might
become; all that he ought to hate he would hate; all that he ought to
love he would cherish. He longed to believe and he tried to believe,
that he had entered into that land of perpetual sunshine which had been
promised him by the minister and his friend. He hoped, and really
expected, to dwell there henceforth, beyond the reach of clouds, and
storms, and tornadoes.
But everybody knows that there were no good grounds for his expecting
such continuous, perpetual, and unbroken fair weather in his formerly
storm-swept sky. The question strikes one, then, why should he have
been promised this, and why led to hope for and expect it? See what
came of this too generous inducement held out to an anxious soul.
For some days, while "Dodd's" newly developed fervor ran high, he lived
in the blessed light. For this light is blessed, and it shines with a
divine warmth into the souls that are open to receive it. The fact
remains, however, that clouds and storms--but I need not trace the
figure further; you all know about it. So, almost before the young man
was aware, he was under a cloud. It happened on this wise:
For many weeks he had been drinking freely and both smoking and chewing
tobacco to excess. The first thing he did, after his hopeful
conversion, was to quit all these stimulants at once. His intense
religious zeal held him up for a few days, but at the end of that time
his strongly formed appetites assorted themselves. He could scarcely
sleep, so hungry was he for a chew, or a smoke, or a drink! These were
the weaknesses that had driven him to seek for help through the
consolations of religion. He had been promised this help, and in no
equivocal terms either. He had been told, even from the pulpit, that
if he would put his trust in the Lord all these temptations would
depart from him. He had done this as well as he knew how to. He had
at least made an honest effort in that direction. His lips were
parched for liquor, and his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth
with a longing for a quid of fine-cut.
And so the clouds overspread "Dodd's" sky--clouds of doubt and
distrust, out of whose lurid depths leap lightnings that blast like
death!
He doubted, first of all, the honesty of the men who had promised him
more than he found himself the possessor of. We always begin by
doubting some fellow-mortal. As the process progresses, it leads us,
ultimately, to doubt God.
But these men had meant to be honest--there is no doubt about that.
They had told the young sinner of that which they believed would help
him. They knew, of course, that he would have trouble with his old
habits, after a while. Perhaps they hoped that he would get over them
somehow. Perhaps they did not think very much about it. In either
case, they said nothing. The patient was suffering. They gave him
medicine that would afford him the quickest relief, without regard to
the permanency of the apparent cure. What an amount of such doctoring
has been done through the ages. Stand up in your graves, you armies of
dead men that have thus been dealt with, and nod a "yes" with your
grinning skulls!
The clouds grew thicker. "Dodd" went to his newly formed friends and
told them frankly of his condition. The minister advised him to be
much alone and in prayer. The young man told him that there was no
need of his suffering from such appetites, because, he himself--the
young man aforesaid--could keep from such evil practices easily enough,
and if he could, "Dodd" could.
Certainly!
"Dodd" acted on the advice of the minister, and went home and shut
himself up alone in his room to pray. He tried, but the words seemed
to go no higher than his head. Did you ever think that when the Master
received his severest temptation it was when he was alone? Let a man
who is tempted beware of trying to win a victory shut up in a room by
himself. The devil has him in a hand to hand fight, in such case, and
thereby increases several fold the probability of winning the battle.
"Dodd" tried to pray. He strove alone, as in an agony. He besought
the power that he had been told to invoke, to take from him the
horrible thirst that was gnawing within him. He wept, he pleaded, he
begged.
The gnawing kept on.
There was once one who prayed "If it be possible, let this cup pass
from me." It did not pass.
Then, indeed, the clouds did grow dark. "Dodd's" doubts left the
earth, and reached even to heaven. He not only doubted the men who had
led him to the promised relief; he doubted even the power of religious
experience to save a tempted man, and the reality of religion itself.
From this point it is but a step to the supreme doubt of all!
If only the boy had expected a storm, he might have weathered it. If,
in this hour of his trial, some faithful soul could have lived with
him, day and night, and never left him for an hour, till the storm was
over, he might have come through. Neither of these things happened,
however.
He struggled on for several days. He gave up finally. He came home
one night drunk, almost to the verge of insanity. There had been a
cyclone in the land of promised eternal sunshine. "Dodd" Weaver's bark
lay upon its beam ends, and the jagged rocks of infidelity pierced its
battered frame.
You have seen such wrecks by the score, have you not, good friends?