| This morning, of which I have just spoken, I went down into the office, and there I was having the renewal of these mighty waves of love and salvation flowing over me, when Squire W---- came into the office. I said a few words to him on the subject of his salvation. He looked at me with astonishment, but made no reply whatever. He dropped his head, and after standing a few minutes left the office. I thought no more of it then, but afterward found that the remark I made pierced him like a sword; and he did not recover from it till he was converted.
Soon after Mr. W---- had left, Deacon B---- came and said to me, "Mr. Finney, do you recollect that my cause is to be tried at ten o'clock this morning? I suppose you are ready?" I had been retained to attend this suit as his attorney. I replied to him, "Deacon B----I have a retainer from the Lord Jesus Christ to plead his cause, and I cannot plead yours." He looked at me with astonishment, and said, "What do you mean?" I told him, in a few words, that I had enlisted in the cause of Christ; and then repeated that I had a retainer from the Lord Jesus Christ to plead his cause, and that he must go and get somebody else to attend his lawsuit; I could not do it. He dropped his head, and without making any reply, went out. A few moments later, in passing the window, I observed that Deacon B---- was standing in the road, seemingly lost in deep meditation. He went away and immediately settled his suit. He then betook himself to prayer, and soon got into a much higher religious state than he had ever been in before.
I soon sallied forth from the office to converse with those whom I should meet about their souls. I had the impression, which has never left my mind, that God wanted me to preach the Gospel, and that I must begin immediately. I seemed to know that the Lord commissioned me to preach the gospel.
When I was first convicted, the thought had occurred that if I was ever converted I should be obliged to leave my profession, of which I was very fond, and preach the Gospel. This at first stumbled me. However, I at last came to the conclusion that I must submit that question to God.
But now after receiving these baptisms of the Spirit I was quite willing to preach the Gospel. Nay, I found that I was unwilling to do anything else. I had no disposition to make money. I had no hungering and thirsting after worldly pleasures and amusements in any direction. My whole mind was taken up with Jesus and his salvation; and the world seemed to me of very little consequence.
I spoke with many persons that day, and I believe the Spirit of God made lasting impressions upon every one of them. I cannot remember one whom I spoke with, who was not soon after converted. Just at evening I called at the house of a friend, where a young man lived who was employed in distilling whiskey. The man of the house and his wife were both professors of religion. But a sister of the lady, who was present, was unconverted and a young man, a distant relative of the family, was a professed Universalist. He was rather outspoken and talkative, and a young man of a good deal of energy of character.
I sat down with them to tea, and they requested me to ask a blessing. It was what I had never done; but I did not hesitate to ask the blessing of God as we sat around the table. I had scarcely more than begun before the state of these young people excited so much compassion that I burst into weeping, and was unable to proceed. Everyone sat speechless for a short time, while I continued to weep. Directly, the young man moved away from the table and rushed out. He fled to his room and locked himself in, and was not seen again till the next morning, when he came expressing a blessed hope in Christ. He has been for many years an able minister of the Gospel.
In the course of the day, a good deal of excitement was created in the village by its being reported what the Lord had done for my soul. At evening, without any appointment having been made, the people were going to the place where they usually held their conference and prayer meetings. I afterward learned that some time before this some members of the church had proposed, in a church meeting, to make me a particular subject of prayer, and that Mr. Gale had discouraged them, saying that he did not believe I would ever be converted; that from conversing with me he had found that I was very much enlightened upon the subject of religion, and very much hardened. And furthermore, he said he was almost discouraged; that I led the choir, and taught the young people sacred music; and that they were so much under my influence that he did not believe that, while I remained in Adams, they would ever be converted.
I found after I was converted, that some of the wicked men in the place had hidden behind me. One man in particular, a Mr. C----, who had a pious wife, had repeatedly said to her, "If religion is true, why don't you convert Finney? If you Christians can convert Finney, I will believe in religion."
An old lawyer by the name of M----, living in Adams, when he heard it rumored that day that I was converted, said that it was all a hoax; that I was simply trying to see what I could make Christian people believe.
However, with one consent the people seemed to rush to the place of worship. No one seemed ready to open the meeting; but the house was packed to its utmost capacity. I did not wait for anybody, but arose and began by saying that I then knew that religion was from God. I went on and told such parts of my experience as it seemed important to tell. Mr. C----, who had promised his wife that if I was converted he would believe in religion, was present. Mr. M----, the old lawyer, was also present. Mr. C---- got up, pressed through the crowd, and went home, leaving his hat. Mr. M---- also left and went home, saying I was crazy. "He is in earnest," said he, "there is no mistake; but he is deranged, that is clear."
As soon as I had done speaking, Mr. Gale, the minister, arose and made a confession. He said he believed he had been in the way of the church; and then confessed that he had discouraged the church when they had proposed to pray for me. He said also that when he had heard that day that I was converted, he had promptly said that he did not believe it. He said he had no faith. He spoke in a very humble manner.
I had never made a prayer in public, but Mr Gale he called on me to pray. We had a wonderful meeting that evening; and, from that day, we had a meeting every evening for a long time. The work spread on every side.
As I had been a leader among the young people, I immediately appointed a meeting for them, which they all attended -- that is, all of the class with which I was acquainted. They were converted one after another, with great rapidity; and the work continued among them until but one of their number was left unconverted.
The work spread among all classes; and extended itself, not only through the village, but out of the village in every direction. My heart was so full that, for more than a week, I did not feel at all inclined to sleep or eat. I went on in this way for a good many days, until I found that I must rest and sleep, or I should become insane. From that point I was more cautious in my labors; and ate regularly, and slept as much as I could.
The word of God had wonderful power; and I was every day surprised to find that the few words, spoken to an individual, would stick in his heart like an arrow.
After a short time I went down to Henderson, where my father lived, and visited him. He was an unconverted man; and only one of the family, my youngest brother, had ever made a profession of religion. My father met me at the gate and said, "How do you do, Charles?" I replied, "I am well, father, body and soul. But, father, you are an old man; all your children are grown up and have left your house; and I never heard a prayer in my father's house." Father dropped his head, and burst into tears, and replied, "I know it, Charles; come in and pray yourself."
We went in and engaged in prayer. My father and mother were greatly moved; and in a very short time thereafter they were both hopefully converted. I do not know but my mother had had a secret hope before; but if so, none of the family, I believe, ever knew it.
I remained in that neighbourhood, I think, for two or three days, and conversed more or less with such people as I could meet with. They had a monthly concert of prayer in that town. There was there a Baptist church that had a minister, and a small Congregational church without a minister. The town was very much of a moral waste, however; and at this time religion was at a very low ebb.
My youngest brother attended this monthly concert of which I have spoken, and afterward gave me an account of it. The Baptists and Congregationalists were in the habit of holding a union monthly concert. But few attended, and therefore it was held at a private house. On this occasion they met, as usual, in the parlor of a private house. A few of the members of the Baptist church, and a few Congregationalists, were present. The deacon of the Congregational church was a spare, feeble old man, of the name of M----. He was quiet in his ways, and had a good reputation for piety; but seldom said much upon the subject. He was a good specimen of a New England deacon. He was present, and they called upon him to lead the meeting. He read a passage of Scripture according to their custom. They then sung a hymn, and Deacon M---- stood up behind his chair, and led in prayer. The other persons present, all of them professors of religion, and younger people, knelt down around the room.
My brother said that Deacon M---- began as usual in his prayer, in a low, feeble voice; but soon began to wax warm and to raise his voice, which became tremulous with emotion.
In the meantime the brethren and sisters that were on their knees, began to groan, and sigh, and weep, and agonise in prayer. From this meeting the work of the Lord spread forth in every direction all over the town. And thus it spread at that time from Adams as a centre, throughout nearly all the towns in the county.
I have spoken of the conviction of Squire W---- in whose office I studied law. Very soon after my conversion, several other cases of conversion occurred that were reported to have taken place under similar circumstances; that is, persons went up into the grove to pray, and there made their peace with God.
When Squire W---- heard their experience in our meetings, he thought that he had a parlour to pray in; and that he was not going up into the woods. To this, it appeared, he strongly committed himself.
I have found a great many cases of this kind; where upon some question a sinner's pride of heart would commit him. In all such cases the dispute must be yielded, or the sinner never will get into the kingdom of God. I have known persons to remain for weeks in great tribulation, pressed by the Spirit; but they could make no progress till the point was yielded. Mr. W---- was the first case of the kind that had ever come to my notice.
After he was converted, he said the question had frequently come up when he was in prayer; and that he had been made to see that it was pride that made him take that stand, and that kept him out of the kingdom of God. But still he was not willing to admit this, even to himself. He tried in every way to make himself believe, and to make God believe, that he was not proud. One night, he said, he prayed all night in his parlor that God would have mercy on him; but in the morning he felt more distressed than ever.
But one afternoon I was sitting in our office, and two of the elders of the church with me; when the young man that I had met at the shoemaker's shop, came hastily into the office, and exclaimed as he came, "Squire W---- is converted!" and proceeded to say: "I went up into the woods to pray, and heard someone over in the valley shouting very loud. I went up to the brow of the hill, where I could look down, and I saw Squire W---- pacing to and fro, and singing as loud as he could sing; and every few moments he would stop and clap his hands with his full strength, and shout, 'I will rejoice in the God of my salvation!' While the young man was telling us this, behold, Squire W---- appeared in sight, coming over the hill. As he came down to the foot of the hill we observed that he met Father T----, as we all called him, an aged Methodist brother. He rushed up to him, and took him right up in his arms. After setting him down, and conversing a moment, he came rapidly toward the office. When he came in, he was in a profuse perspiration and he cried out, "I've got it! I've got it!" He then gave us an account of what had been passing in his mind, and why he had not obtained a hope before. He said as soon as he gave up that point and went into the woods, his mind was relieved; and when he knelt down to pray, the Spirit of God came upon him and filled him with such unspeakable joy that it resulted in the scene which the young man witnessed. Of course from that time Squire W---- took a decided stand for God.
Toward spring the older members of the church began to abate in their zeal. I had been in the habit of rising early in the morning, and spending a season of prayer alone in the meeting house; and I finally succeeded in interesting a considerable number of brethren to meet me there in the morning for a prayer meeting, and we were generally together long before it was light enough to see to read. I persuaded my minister to attend these meetings.
One morning I had been around and called the brethren up, and when I returned to the meeting house few of them had got there. Mr. Gale, my minister, was standing at the door of the church, and as I came up, all at once the glory of God shone round about me, in a manner most marvellous. The day was just beginning to dawn. But all at once a light perfectly ineffable shone in my soul, and almost prostrated me to the ground. In this light it seemed as if I could see that all nature praised and worshipped God except man. It was too intense for the eyes. I recollect breaking into a flood of tears, in view of the fact that mankind did not praise God. I think I knew something then, by actual experience, of that light that prostrated Paul on his way to Damascus. It was surely a light such as I could not have endured long.
When I burst out into loud weeping, Mr. Gale said, "What is the matter, brother Finney?" I could not tell him. I found that he had seen no light; and that he saw no reason why I should be in such a state of mind. I therefore said but little. I merely replied, that I saw the glory of God; and that I could not endure to think of the manner in which he was treated by men. Indeed, it did not seem to me at the time that the vision of his glory which I had, was to be described in words. I wept it out; and the vision, if it may be so called, passed away and left my mind calm.
I used to have, when I was a young Christian, many seasons of communing with God which cannot be described in words. And not unfrequently those reasons would end in an impression on my mind like this: "Go, see that thou tell no man." I did not understand this at the time, and several times I paid no attention to this injunction; but tried to tell my Christian brethren what communications the Lord had made to me, or rather what seasons of communion I had with him. But I soon found that it would not do to tell my brethren what was passing between the Lord and my soul. They could not understand it.
Sometimes I would pursue a wrong course in fasting, and attempt to examine myself according to the ideas of self-examination then entertained by my minister and the church. I would try to look into my own heart, in the sense of examining my feelings; and would turn my attention particularly to my motives, and the state of my mind. When I pursued this course, I found invariably that the day would close without any perceptible advance being made. Afterwards I saw clearly why this was so. Turning my attention, as I did, from the Lord Jesus Christ, and looking into myself, examining my motives and feelings, my feelings all subsided of course. But whenever I fasted, and let the Spirit take his own course with me, and gave myself up to let him lead and instruct me, I universally found it in the highest degree useful. I found I could not live without enjoying the presence of God; and if at any time a cloud came over me, I could not rest, I could not study, I could not attend to anything with the least satisfaction or benefit, until the medium was again cleared between my soul and God.
The Lord taught me, in those early days of Christian experience, many very important truths in regard to the spirit of prayer. Not long after I was converted, a woman with whom I had boarded -- though I did not board with her at this time, was taken very sick. She was not a Christian, but her husband was a professor of religion. He came into our office one evening, being a brother of Squire W----, and said to me, "My wife cannot live through the night." This seemed to plant an arrow, as it were, in my heart. It came upon me in the sense of a burden, but with it came an intense desire to pray for that woman. I left the office almost immediately, and went up to the meeting house. There I struggled, but could not say much.
I stayed a considerable time in the church, in this state of mind, but got no relief. I returned to the office; but I could not sit still. I could only walk the room and agonise. I returned to the meeting house, and went through the same process of struggling. For a long time I tried to get my prayer before the Lord; but somehow words could not express it. I returned to the office again, and still found I was unable to rest; and I returned a third time to the meeting house. At this time the Lord gave me power to prevail. I obtained the assurance that the woman would not die, and indeed that she would never die in her sins.
I returned to the office. My mind was perfectly quiet; and I soon left and retired to rest. Early the next morning the husband of this woman came. I inquired how his wife was. He, smiling said, "She's alive, and to all appearance better this morning." I replied, "Brother W----, she will not die with this sickness; you may rely upon it. And she will never die in her sins.". She did recover, and soon after obtained a hope in Christ.
At first I did not understand what this exercise of mind that I had passed through, was. But shortly after in relating it to a Christian brother he said to me, "Why, that was the travail of your soul." A few minutes' conversation, and pointing me to certain scriptures, gave me to understand what it was.
Another experience which I had soon after this, illustrates the same truth. I have spoken of one young woman as belonging to the class of young people who remained unconverted. This attracted a good deal of attention; and there was considerable conversation among Christians about her case. She was naturally a charming girl, and very much enlightened on the subject of religion, but she remained in her sins.
One of the elders of the church and myself agreed to make her a daily subject of prayer, to continue to present her case at the throne of grace, morning, noon, and evening, until she was either converted, or should die, or we should be unable to keep our covenant. I soon found, however, that the elder who had entered into this arrangement with me, was losing his spirit of prayer. But this did not discourage me. I continued to hold on with increasing importunity. I also availed myself of every opportunity to converse plainly and searchingly with her on the subject of her salvation.
After I had continued in this way for sometime, one evening I called just as the sun was setting. As I came up to the door I heard a shriek and confusion inside; and stood and waited for the confusion to be over. The lady of the house soon came and held in her hand a portion of a book, which had evidently been torn in two. She was pale and very much agitated and said, "Mr. Finney, don't you think my sister has become a Universalist?" The book was a defence of Universalism. Her sister had detected her reading it in a private way. She tried to get it away from her; and it was the struggle to obtain that book which I had heard.
I received this information at the door; whereupon I declined to go in. It struck me very much in the same way as had the announcement that the sick woman, was about to die. As I returned to my room, at some distance from that house, I felt almost as if I should stagger under the burden that was on my mind; and I struggled, and groaned, and agonised, but could not frame to present the case before God in words, but only in groans and tears.
The discovery that young woman, instead of being converted, was becoming a Universalist, so astounded me that I could not break through with my faith, and get hold of God in reference to her case. There seemed to be a darkness banging over the question, as if a cloud had risen up between me and God, in regard to prevailing for her salvation.
However, I was obliged to retire that night without having prevailed. But as soon as it was light I awoke; and the first thought that I had was to beseech the God of grace again for that young woman. No sooner was I upon my knees than the darkness gave way, and the whole subject opened to my mind; and as soon as I pleaded for her God said to me, "Yes! yes!" If he had spoken with an audible voice, it would not have been more distinctly understood than this word spoken within my soul. It instantly relieved all my solicitude. My mind became filled with the greatest peace and joy; and I felt a complete certainty that her salvation was secure.
Soon after I was converted, the man with whom I had been boarding, a magistrate, and one of the principal men in the place, was deeply convicted of sin. He had been elected a member of the legislature of the state. I was praying daily for him, and urging him to give his heart to God. His conviction became very deep; but still, from day to day, he deferred submission, and did not obtain a hope. My solicitude for him increased.
One afternoon several of his political friends had a protracted interview with him. On the evening of the same day I attempted again to carry his case to God. I do not remember ever to have been in more intimate communion with the Lord Jesus than I was at that time. I was bathed in tears of joy, and gratitude, and love; and in this state of mind I attempted to pray for this friend. But the moment I did so, my mouth was shut. The Lord seemed to say to me, "No; I will not hear." An anguish seized upon me; I thought at first it was a temptation.
The next morning I saw him; and as soon as I brought up the question of submission to God, he said to me, "Mr. Finney, I shall have nothing more to do with it until I return from the legislature. I stand committed to my political friends to carry out certain measures in the legislature, that are incompatible with my first becoming a Christian; and I have promised that I will not attend to the subject until after I have returned from Albany."
From the moment of that exercise the evening before, I had no spirit of prayer for him at all. As soon as he told me what he had done, I understood it. I could see that his convictions were all gone, and that the Spirit of God had left him.
When the time arrived he went to the legislature; and in the Spring he returned an almost insane Universalist. I say almost insane, because, instead of having formed his opinions from any evidence or course of argument, he said, "I have come to that conclusion, not because I have found it taught in the Bible, but because such a doctrine is so opposed to the carnal mind. It is a doctrine so generally rejected and spoken against, as to prove that it is distasteful to the carnal, unconverted mind." This was astonishing. But everything else that I could get out of him was as wild and absurd as this. He remained in his sins, finally fell into decay, and died at last, as I have been told, a dilapidated man, and in the full faith of his Universalism. |