It has been said that we are creatures of circumstances, and the force of circumstances, with our environments, certainly do operate upon us as causes and influences in shaping and directing our course in life.
Having spent my means as a medical student, the necessities
of my family pressed upon me, and receiving no aid from the brethren and
churches to whom I ministered in the gospel, my lot seemed trying and hard.
Thus burdened and discouraged, I was tempted to think that if the Lord had
really put me in the ministry and made it my work to preach the gospel of the
kingdom, He would also have put it in the hearts and minds of His loving
disciples, the children of the kingdom, to loosen my hands, by helping me bear
this heavy double burden, and that my circumstances would not be so bitterly
trying. Trying to make my dubious way under such clouds and darkness, fears and
temptations, it often seemed to me scarcely possible that the Lord had put me
in the ministry; therefore, much of the time I was strongly tempted to turn
away from it and quit trying to preach. In my spirit I chafed and suffered,
repined and mourned, and my heart was bowed under its heavy cross. I was doing
some practice, but not enough to keep us out of debt and comfortable; for the
country was generally healthy and the practice was divided among several
doctors. The abiding conviction was in my mind that the brethren should
cheerfully supply the lack in our necessitates out of their abundance; but they
did not seem to feel so, and I was too timid and cowardly to instruct them in
this duty of mutual ministration and service; therefore I was really as remiss
as were they. But all my life I had heard our ministers preach against the
bishop or shepherd being supported by the flock, and I knew that our people
were prejudiced against helping their preachers. Therefore, I kept all these
things to myself and pondered them in my heart, and my soul was pressed down as
a cart beneath its sheaves.
It is due that I say of the brethren of the two churches I
served, one about forty miles west of us, that they manifested warm
appreciation of my ministry in every way, except this failure to minister to my
necessities - and I was at fault in this, in not having the faithful courage to
teach them the gospel rule: "Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfill
the law of Christ." I should have impressed this "reasonable
service" upon them, not more for my sake than theirs, but especially in
faithfulness and honor to the Lord, who servants we are. But I was young and
inexperienced in the full work of the gospel minister, and there was no father
in the ministry near to counsel and help me. The conflict between preaching and
practicing medicine would rise again and again, and truly necessity was laid
upon me to do both.
Yet I felt that I should finally have to give up one or the
other. It had seemed to me that if I could go away from the Baptists I might
then lay down the ministry, devote myself to the sick and get along better, and
I would occasionally talk to some of the home brethren about doing this, but
they would laugh at me, and had no idea that I would do such a thing. Well,
after struggling on thus in this unequal warfare about five years, from my
ordination until the fall of 1861, the Lord then gave me up to have my own way,
and I went away into the hospital service of the federal army as a nurse. The
Sunday before I started we had a blessed meeting, and we all felt the
comforting presence of the Lord, causing our hearts to overflow in love to one
another, and I felt that, it would be so hard for me to leave all that were
dear and beloved, I would draw back if I had not already enlisted. For I was
leaving the church without a preacher, a flock without a shepherd, and some of
the aged sisters wept when I left them.
Before we had been in camp two months a dear neighbor youth
died in the hospital, and I was detailed to take him home for burial. After my
arrival home his family (who were Baptists) sent a request for me to preach in
our church house at his funeral. This I could not refuse, although it seemed
impossible; for the spirit of the ministry was gone from me and I had become as
indifferent as any natural person. when the time came, as I walked down the
aisle of the crowded house, shaking hands with my neighbors and brethren on the
right and left, I was shocked to find that my love for the brethren had grown
cold, so that I felt only the same natural regard for them as for the other
friends. This made me feel that I was not a Christian, after all, and that it
would be hypocrisy and a mockery for me to go in the pulpit and try to preach.
But on reaching the front, dear old Brother Jerry Ferguson grasped my hand and
wept. My cold indifference was gone the next moment, the love of the brethren
rushed in and filled my whole being and I dropped in a seat, overcome with
emotion. It was a relief and comfort to me then to preach, and the Lord gave me
liberty. But alas! How could I ever bear to go away and leave the dear children
of God again? For, with a poet, I now deeply felt:
"Here
my best friends, my kindred, dwell; Here Christ, my Savior, reigns."
The next day I had to leave for Camp Butler, and sorrowful
indeed was the parting with my little family and all. At midnight, I re-entered
the hospital, crushed and broken in spirit, and from that time on I was a
suffering invalid - sick in mind and body. A complication of ailments set in
and became chronic, induced by exposure and soul-trouble. For now, I
sorrowfully felt that I had fled from the commandment of the Lord, as much so
as did Jonah, and had rebelled against Him and grieved the Holy Spirit. The
loving Son of God, the Father, had meekly and obediently endured all things and
laid down His righteous life for me; but now because of some sacrifices and
trials, I had forsaken Him and His blessed service, in the delusive hope of
making the way better and my cross lighter. How terribly deceived by Satan and
the flesh! Instead, my troubles were dreadfully increased; for I now endured
the hidings of the Lord's countenance, and felt that I had sinned against light
and knowledge and forsaken my own mercies. If the South had rebelled against
earthly authority, I against Heaven. I had tried to satisfy my conscience with
the plea that it was a worthy cause and good work for me to enter the army to
minister to the suffering soldiers; but He who saved me from perdition had said
to me: "Go, preach Jesus and His righteousness;" therefore, I was
disobedient, and had denied my Redeemer and Lord. Seeing and feeling this, I
was filled with anguish of spirit and deep repentance. My soul was solitary,
utterly desolate and comfortless. I preferred to be alone in my cold and dismal
tent, where I could read the sorrowful psalms of David of old, so expressive of
the troubles of my own heart - and I could not read any other part of the
Bible. For the Lord had taken His Spirit and the light of His countenance from
me and left me to my own wretched self. Yet I dared not complain or murmur at
this fearful affliction and suffering; for I had willfully turned away from the
blessed work of the gospel ministry, forsaken the brethren, and brought all
this calamity upon myself. I remembered how good they had been to attend upon
my ministry, their Christian confidence in me and loving fellowship for me, so
that great had been our mutual comfort and joy in our meetings, for the Lord
had blessed us with His heavenly presence. And as all this came back to me in
my forlorn camp-life, I most painfully felt that those were heavenly places,
when contrasted with these. For, instead of the society of home and spiritual
kindred, I was in the midst of the most ungodly and profane men and deprived of
almost every comfort. Hence, as the winter slowly advanced, my maladies grew
worse, until it was evident that, without a change and relief, death must soon
take me out of the army.
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