EARLY RELIGIOUS LIFE OF ELDER DAVID BARTLEY 3-4...

[ed. We continue with Elder David Bartley's experiences during his early life.]


CHAPTER III.   LOST.
As I grew older and my mind was more matured, I became deeply exercised about the way of salvation, or how a man can be just with God. For I could see no possible way for the salvation of a guilty sinner, without dishonoring the law and justice of God-and this could not be, I knew. My mind most seriously dwelt upon this about three years, I think. Finally, as I could not understand how it was possible for me to be saved, I wrote a long letter to Elder Wilson Thompson, telling him my troubles (and I think this was the first time I ever told any one of my woeful condition.) I told him that I well understood how God, my Creator, Lawgiver and Judge, was just in my everlasting condemnation, for I was sinful, wicked and guilty in His sight, and also in my own eyes, but how the same God, sitting in judgment upon my case and trying me by His holy law, which I had violated, could pardon and save me and yet remain just, was impossible for me to understand. Therefore, I asked him to tell me how this could be; for I had the greatest confidence in him. That God is holy, just and good, I believed, and His law also holy, therefore, I could not ask nor hope to be saved at the injury of justice.

Dear Elder Thompson sent me a long letter in answer, tenderly and ably setting forth the glorious mystery of man's redemption from the law of God and salvation from sin through the Man Jesus Christ, our Mediator. Years later I had this very instructive and comforting letter published in the Signs of the Times, for the benefit of others; but when I received and read it, over and over, the mystery was as dark to me as before; for I could not understand his letter, nor receive the least relief nor comfort from it. How was it possible for the life and death of the sinless Jesus to apply to me, or make me anything else than the vile sinner I was?

It was now more than ever apparent that mine was an outside and hopeless case, and my soul was filled with an awful sense of separation from the presence of God, and for me there was no forgiveness. How could He forgive me without injustice to Himself and dishonor to His law? The holy God would not do this great wrong, neither could I ask it.

Even then I believed the Lord had a people, whom He would save, thought I could not tell how; but I was not one of them, and for me there was no salvation, but I should die in my sins and be forever lost. Alas! I was already lost. I felt it and knew it. God would have forgiven my sins long before, if it had been possible, I verily believed. For since that long-ago when an awful conviction fell upon me as I sat under my father's ministry, my sin-burdened heart had sent up its piteous pleadings and cries to Him hundreds and hundreds of times, with many tears of sorrow and penitence, begging for mercy; but all was vain. Still, I could not help praying, neither could I cease mourning over my sins; for I must pour out the troubles of my lost soul in confessions, supplications and tears; and this was the only solace I had.

Having married in January, 1850, we were living in Jasper County, Illinois, and my father and nearly all the family were there also. The crisis in my most forlorn life was drawing near and it seemed that I could not endure and live very much longer; for my awful state of sinful wretchedness was growing more and more grievous, so that it was ever uppermost in my heart and mind, and for me there was no peace. often in the late hours of night would I get up and go away in the darkness and weep and pray, not thinking that any one save God heard me. But I learned from my brother Mordecai long afterward that our father was so much troubled for me that he often arose and followed me out. But I was trying to hide all my troubles from him and all, and had no idea that he had heard my bitter mourning. It was after father's departure that my brother told me this.

One afternoon in April 1850, I was fearfully impressed that I must die before the sun went down; so I took Elder Thompson's letter and went out to try to find a ray of comfort from reading it again, but so awful was my gloom the lines became blurred and I could not read it. Believing that the hour of my doom had come, I felt that I must return to the house and confess to my wife that God was just in cutting me off and ask her not to murmur against Him. As I walked from the door to the bed on which she was asleep I felt that if I took another step toward her I should fall dead and this would greatly alarm her, therefore I turned and rested my arms and head on the mantle and groaned aloud. She quickly came to me and asked in alarm what was the matter. I told her that I was about to die, for I was too wicked a sinner for God to suffer to live any longer, and asked her to not complain against Him. She took my arm and asked me to sit down in the door with her, in view of the setting sun, and then tried to comfort me (for she was a Baptist and a Christian); but her words fell upon deaf ears. While we sat there and she talked to me a sudden transition came over me - not for the better, but for the worse. The deep mourning and fear of impending death passed away in a moment, but instead of pardon and peace filling my heart with joy and gladness the hardened indifference of sullen despair and reprobation took possession of me, and I soon felt that I had passed into the hands of Satan, to be buffeted and tormented. Instantly the most horrid and blasphemous thoughts were injected into my mind with the rapidity of lightning, and I was powerless to prevent it. Not for the world would I have told my wife of the dreadful change in my state, and I could not say a word, but soon arose under the awful conviction that I was a vile and hardened reprobate, for whom there was no hope, nor pardon, nor mercy.

CHAPTER IV.  TEMPTATIONS.
Now I went forth into life again, but worse than before - alas! Into a living torment, worse than death. True, I had ceased to weep and mourn and pray, but so far from being filled with love and peace and praise, my heart was hardened, my life was more bitter than death, and my lips would utter vile curses, for which I would immediately loathe myself.

The former years of deep mourning, heart-penitence and tearful supplications were blessed, when measured by the following months and years of horrible temptations and hardened despair. For now I was doubly sure God had cast me off forever, and that I was a Satan-abandoned reprobate, or given over to him to be tormented, "having no hope, and without God in the world." This was fearful.

Never before had I used profane words, but would have been shocked at the thought of profanity, but now the most horrid curses were darted through my mind, and when vexed, they would break out in words, in spite of my efforts to prevent it, and this caused me to hate myself and my wretched life. Oh! How could I be otherwise than most hateful in the sight of Him who is infinitely holy?

In the time of my mourning over my lost condition I had tried to solace myself with the fact that I had lived a moral life, but now I realized that my very nature was a fountain of iniquity, and this overwhelmed me in the deepest self-abhorrence. For I was made to understand that, by lineal descent from the corrupted head of the human race, there had come down to me a corrupt existence, as a poisoned fountain, so that in every fiber of my being I was vile.

Now all this so embittered my blighted life that I felt it would be better to die, because I was only adding sin to sin and making my deplorable case worse and worse; and my idea was that I should sin no more after being released from mortality; therefore, I was fearfully tempted to seek death. Indeed, on one occasion Satan drove me to the verge of self-destruction. I was plowing in a field of corn, and, becoming fretted at the horse, cursed it bitterly, and then the anguish of my spirit seemed unendurable. So, leaving the field, I entered a grove in a state of distraction, wanting to seek relief in some way; and there I verily felt the presence of Satan at my right hand, and that I was in his hateful power. I piteously asked him to release me from his horrid grasp, and audibly said: "Oh! have you not tormented me long enough?" I shudder to relate that the next moment I was impelled to cast myself on the ground, place the point of my dirk-knife over my heart, with my right hand on the handle, and the thought ran through my mind: "How quick I could end this miserable existence." But at that moment my hand became passive and powerless, as if arrested, and I said: "I cannot now, but I will soon." Never again was I so fearfully tempted. The Lord would suffer the tempter to go no further, but made a way for my escape.

As in the time of my mourning I sought to hide my troubles from those about me, so now I could not bear the thought of any one knowing what a profane and miserable reprobate I was; therefore, only when alone would I utter the tormenting thoughts of vile profanity which were darted through my tortured mind. So I was greatly mortified on learning from my wife that she had been shocked by overhearing me once. Yet I knew the Omniscient One saw me as I was. At this time my father preached in the settlement every alternate Sunday, and I usually attended. But I have a vivid remembrance of only one sermon. It was upon God's election and predestination of His people unto holiness and divine sonship. I felt within me a spirit of bitter irreconciliation and anger against this doctrine, and mentally saying, "I cannot and will not hear it," I left the house; for I felt that it was against me and cut me off. My intention was to go home, but while still within hearing of my father's voice my angry spirit gave way, a strong desire to return filled my heart. I halted and listened; I stood irresolute and trembling, but soon felt subdued, and contritely walked back in the house and heard the close of the sermon. From that time I felt this opposition and hatred to God's righteous will no more; for I knew that He was infinitely wise and holy. But this rebellion in my heart at that time prepared me to ever after bear with and pity those who may feel as I then did, rather than condemn them; for, as Jesus said on the cross, "They know not what they do." By nature we were all the children of wrath, and God only can reconcile the poor, rebellious sinner to Himself, and give him the spirit of peace and a heart to love Him. Jesus alone can say to the angry waves: "Peace, be still." At last those horrid and fiery temptations were taken away from me at times, and then my hard heart would become tender under a feeling sense of the goodness of God, and my despairing and bitter spirit would be filled with sweet contrition. At such times my soul began again to cry out to God in prayer, and tears once more came to my relief. This was as the breaking of day to my darkened, chilled and famishing soul, after a long and fearful night in a horrible wilderness. O, the day-dawn and the daystar did indeed begin to arise in my hopeless heart! But, like the murmuring children of Israel, I wandered back and forth in the great and terrible wilderness a long time, until my soul was deeply humbled and shown that there was no goodness in me, before the merciful God of salvation delivered me out of the hand of my fierce tormentor, and brought me out of black despair into the light of His sweet and soul-cheering countenance, I can most truly say that my soul longed for His mercy, and I was led to feel that His favor was better than life. Therefore, with my whole heart I again sought the Lord in earnest, fervent, supplication and prayer.