Chapter 11.
“Christ hath the foundation laid,
And Christ shall build me up;
Surely I shall soon be made
Partaker of my hope;
Author of my faith He is,
He its finisher shall be;
Perfect love shall seal me His,
To all eternity.” ―
Wesley.
It will have been observed that Brainerd, while so fully engrossed with his spiritual interest in the Indians, was also ready to stand as their practical friend whenever help was needed. His unvarying immunity from any personal danger, even when alone and unarmed he wandered at midnight through the solitary woods, may be accounted for partly by the fact that he was felt to be, throughout all the tribes, their friend. All this loyalty to his poor clients aroused the jealousy of the whites, but still the young missionary stood by the redskin and sheltered him from oppression and wrong.
An instance of this is seen in his action where he found the Indian communities had run into grievous debt with the white man on account of the strong drink which he, alas! all too liberally supplied to them. The defaulters were in many cases speedily arrested, and an attempt was made to take from them their hunting grounds to release the debt. Brainerd knew that this must mean their ruin, and immediately conferred with the representatives of the Society which employed him, in order to advance the Indians some funds so that their lands might not pass out of their possession. Another reason which impelled Brainerd to bring help in this direction was the long hoped for establishment of a Christian Indian congregation or town. He tells us that on one occasion the sum he disbursed for this purpose was eighty-five pounds, five shillings, which seems ridiculously small now-a-days but was a considerable sum in the times in which he lived.
His schoolmaster having now recovered we note that thirty children or young persons are found under tuition every day, and in the evening fifteen married people are only too glad to avail themselves of a little free education. Brainerd seems to have paid considerable attention to this branch of the work; one day he tells us that he distributed a dozen primers among his people, and it was his custom to frequently catechize them upon their progress in study.
The spiritual work, which of course was his chief concern, continued to show signs of a real living success. He adopted the wise method of taking with him on his missionary journeys half-a-dozen of his more earnest and capable Christian converts, and these were of great assistance. But in those Indian forests, in the midst of those clusters of wigwams, Brainerd found just the same variety of reception of the truth as St. Paul in the classic and philosophic Athens. “Some of them,” says he, “who had, in times past, been extremely averse to Christians now behaved soberly, and some others laughed and mocked. However, the Word of God fell with such weight and, power that sundry seemed to be stunned, and expressed a willingness to “hear me again on these matters.” Afterward prayed with and made an address to the white people present, and could not but observe some visible effects of the word, such as tears and sobs, among them. After public worship spent some time and took pains to answer those that mocked, of the truth and importance of what I had been insisting upon, and so endeavored to awaken their attention to Divine truths. And had reason to think, from what I observed then and afterward, that my endeavors took considerable effect upon one of the worst of them. Those few Indians then present, who used to be my hearers in these parts (some having removed from hence to Crossweeksung), seemed more kindly disposed toward and glad to see me again: they had been so much attacked by some of the opposing pagans that they were almost ashamed or afraid to manifest their friendship.”
Of his own people Brainerd speaks with evident encouragement. “I know of no assembly of Christians where there seems to be so much of the presence of God, where brotherly love so much prevails, and where I take so much delight in the public worship of God, in the general as in my own congregation, although not more than nine months ago they were worshipping devils and dumb idols, under the power of pagan darkness and superstition. Amazing change this! effected by nothing less than Divine power and grace! This is the doing of the Lord, and it is justly marvelous in our eyes!”
Nothing rejoiced the heart of this good and faithful servant more than to see in his people the beautiful fruit of a new heart and redeemed nature. He was ready at any time to listen to the yearning of these poor Indians for instruction, and literally carried out the Scripture admonition, “Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.” With penitents he was patient and affectionate; knowing in his own heart what self-abasement was, he could enter into the experience of those, who, awakened to a sense of their own unworthiness, were seeking the Savior of sinners. One day after public worship had concluded, Brainerd was accompanied homewards by a large concourse of anxious people who filled his house and prayed for more of his prayers and teaching. He was then greatly filled with gladness at the sight of one poor Indian woman who had found Christ, and was “filled with joy unspeakable, and full of glory.” In the midst of the people she continually broke out in crying for very joy and praising God, sometimes in English, sometimes in Indian, but always with fervor. She longed to be gone, to depart and be with Jesus, which she felt would be far better. “O blessed Lord,” she cried aloud, “do come, do come! O do take me away, do let me die and go to Jesus Christ! I am afraid if I live I shall sin again! O do let me die now! O dear Jesus do come! I cannot stay, I cannot stay!” The longing to be “absent from the body” which this Indian woman expressed with such fervor, arose from such a dread of sin, that she felt her safety against grieving her Saviour was in freedom from the temptations of life and mortality. After a time Brainerd spoke to her with words of encouragement and tenderness, asking whether Christ was not now sweet to her soul.
She turned upon him eyes brimming with happy tears, and yet speaking in tones of lowliness and humility, said: “I have many times heard you speak of the goodness and sweetness of Christ, that He was better than all the world. But O! I knew nothing what you meant, I never believed you! I never believed you! But now I know it is true!”
“Do you see,”said Brainerd, “enough in Christ for the greatest of sinners?”
With an ecstasy of emotion the woman answered: “O! enough, enough! for all the sinners of the world if they would but come.”
Then at his request, she turned round to the Indian men and women in the crowd who had been listening to her words with much interest and weeping. “Oh! there is enough,” she cried, “enough in Christ for you if you would but come! O strive, strive to give up your hearts to Him!”
About this convert Brainerd makes some very interesting and instructive notes in his journal, which are well worth quotation.
“Of all the persons I have seen under spiritual exercise I scarce ever saw one so bowed and broken under convictions of sin and misery (or what is usually called a preparatory work), than this woman. Nor scarce any who seemed to have a greater acquaintance with her own heart than she had. She would frequently complain to me of the hardness and rebellion of her heart. Would tell me her heart rose and quarreled with God, when she thought He would do with her as He pleased, and send her to hell notwithstanding her prayers, good graces, etc.; that her heart was not willing to come to Christ for salvation, but tried everywhere else to help.
“And as she seemed to be remarkably sensible of her stubbornness and contrariety to God, under conviction, so she appeared to be no less remarkably bowed and reconciled to Divine sovereignty before she obtained any relief or comfort. Since which time she has seemed constantly to breathe the spirit and temper of the new creature, crying after Christ, not through fear of hell as before, but with strong desire after Him as her only satisfying portion, and has many times wept and sobbed bitterly, because (as she apprehended) she did not, and could not, love Him. When I have sometimes asked her why she appeared so sorrowful, and whether she thought it was because she was afraid of hell? she would answer, No, I am not distressed about that, but my heart is so wicked that I cannot love Christ, and thereupon burst into tears. But though this has been the habitual frame of her mind for several weeks together, so that the exercise of grace appeared evident to others, yet she seemed wholly insensible of it herself, and never had any remarkable comfort and sensible satisfaction till this evening.
“This sweet and surprising ecstasy appeared to spring from a true spiritual discovery of the glory, ravishing beauty and excellency of Christ, and not from any gross imaginary notions of His human nature, such as that of seeing Him in such place or posture, as hanging on the cross, as bleeding, dying, as gently smiling and the like; which delusions some have been carried away with. Nor did it rise from sordid, selfish apprehensions of her having any benefit whatsoever conferred on her, but from a view of His personal excellency and transcendent loveliness, which drew forth those vehement desires of enjoying Him she now manifested, and made her long to be absent from the body and present with the Lord. The attendants of this ravishing comfort were such as abundantly discerned its spring to be Divine, and that it was truly a joy in the Holy Ghost. Now she received Divine truths as living realities, and could say, I know these things are so, I feel they are true. Now her soul was resigned to the Divine will in the most tender points, so that when I said to her, what if God should take away your husband from you (who was very sick) how do you think you could bear that? She replied, He belongs to God and not to me, He may do with him just as He pleases. Now she had the most tender sense of the evil of sin, and discovered the utmost aversion to it, longing to die that she might be delivered from it. Now she could freely trust her all with God for time and eternity.
And when I questioned her how she could be wishing to die and leave her little infant, and what she thought would become of it in that case, she answered, ‘God will take care of it. It belongs to Him, He will take care of it.’ Now she appeared to have the most humbling sense of her own meanness and unworthiness, her weakness and inability to preserve herself from sin and to persevere in the way of holiness, crying, If I live I shall sin.”
Changes have taken place in Christian theology since those Puritan days and the old paths are some of them quite grass grown, but this brief page of a spiritual history shows that the power of the Gospel was efficacious then, as it is now, for changing the heart and revivifying the life, so that “old things are passed away and all things have become new.” David Brainerd was not the man to be satisfied with an external and emotional phase of religion, he catechized his converts with a view to finding how much and how deep was the real spiritual knowledge they possessed. Mere religious concern, he observes, is not true religion. He notes with satisfaction that the pagans awakened by the preaching of Christ and Him crucified, “seemed at once to put off their savage rudeness and pagan manners, and become sociable, orderly, and humane in their carriage.”
When once the light of a Christian faith was kindled in their hearts, they seem to have had a perfect fear of lapsing back into their old state of sin. An instance of this is seen in their conduct one afternoon, when Brainerd had been explaining to his little flock of Christians what was the discipline enjoined by the New Testament in treating offenders in the Church. Upon his showing them that after repeated effort on the part of the brethren to restore one who had been a castaway, he must be treated as a heathen man or pagan without part or lot in the matter, they were much affected, even alarmed. Of this, they seemed to have the most awful apprehensions; a state of heathenism out of which they were so lately brought appearing very dreadful to them. They frequently met together for worship amongst themselves, when an old chief, who had received the light, spoke earnestly of Christ’s power to save.
On another occasion, he brought his people together for the ordinance of the Lord’s Supper, having previously set apart a whole day for fasting and prayer. He spoke to them of the obligations of Christian fellowship, besought them to be humble in their walk before God and avoid the careless indifference which crept over some who had stood with them once and seemed at that time deeply impressed, praying earnestly that God would preserve them from the evil attempts of their enemies to disperse them. Brainerd bade them join him in partaking of the symbols of the passion of the Lord. It seems to have been a season of peculiar blessing, for he tells us―
“This solemn transaction was attended with much gravity and seriousness, and, at the same time, with utmost readiness, freedom, and cheerfulness, and a religious union and harmony of soul seemed to crown the whole solemnity.”
In the month of May, 1747, Brainerd visited Northampton, and, in consequence of some graver symptoms in his disease, pushed on to the house of his friend, Jonathan Edwards, where one Dr. Mather was called in to see him. The physician, after examination, told him frankly of his condition, that he was in a confirmed consumption from which he had not the least chance of recovery. Such a statement to most men would mean a startled fear and deep depression, but to this man of God, it brought no discomposure nor interfered with the cheerfulness of his heart and conversation. Opening his diary a few days afterward, he makes the following comment upon his condition: ―
“My attention was greatly engaged and my soul so drawn forth, this day, by what I heard of the exceeding preciousness of the saving grace of God’s Spirit, that it almost overcame my body in my weak state. I saw that true grace is exceeding precious indeed, that it is very rare, and that there is but a very small degree of it, even where the reality of it is to be found; at least, I saw this to be my case. In the preceding week, I enjoyed some comfortable seasons of meditation. One morning, the cause of God appeared exceeding precious to me, the Redeemer’s kingdom is all that is valuable to me on earth, and I could not but long for the promotion of it in the world. I saw also that this cause is God’s, that He has an infinitely greater regard and concern for it than I could possibly have, that if I have any true love to His blessed interest, it is only a drop derived from the ocean; hence, I was ready to lift up my heart with joy, and conclude, Well, if God’s cause be so dear and precious to Him, He will promote it. And thus I did, as it were, rest in God; that surely He would promote that which was agreeable to His own will, though the time when must still be left to His sovereign pleasure.”
His physicians, possibly recognizing that his habit of incessant activity was a necessity of his life, now gave him the somewhat strange advice that, if he would continue riding as much as possible, it would tend to prolong his life. This recommendation he acted upon most literally; from that moment till his death he was constantly in the saddle, and swiftly passing from place to place. One would have thought that rest and quiet would have been much more beneficial to the over-strung, over-wearied missionary; but as he felt the light of life gradually burning low, he redoubled his exertion to proclaim the Gospel far and wide before the call came. But the effort caused him exquisite suffering. “There is no rest,” he cries, “but in God, fatigues of body and anxieties of mind attend us both in town and country; no place is exempted.”
Here is his record of an incident in his travels, which nearly made him speedily “finish his course with joy.”
“On Thursday, 18th June, I was taken exceeding ill, and brought to the gates of death, by the breaking of small ulcers in my lungs, as my physicians supposed. In this extreme weak state I continued for several weeks, and was frequently reduced so low as to be utterly speechless and not able so much as to whisper a word; and, even after I had so far revived as to walk about the house, and to step out of doors, I was exercised every day with a faint turn, which continued usually four or five hours, at which times, though I was not so utterly speechless but that I could say Yes or No, yet I could not converse at all, nor speak one sentence, without making stops for breath; and divers times in this season my friends gathered round my bed, to see me breathe my last, which they looked for every moment as I myself did.
“How I was the first day or two of my illness, with regard to the exercise of reason, I scarcely know, I believe I was somewhat shattered by the violence of the fever at times, but the third day of my illness, and constantly afterward for four or five weeks together, I enjoyed as much serenity of mind and clearness of thought as perhaps I ever did in my life, and I think my mind never penetrated with so much ease and freedom into Divine things as at this time, and I never felt so capable of demonstrating the truth of many important doctrines of the Gospel as now.”
Thus, in the midst of great physical weakness and pain, Brainerd’s soul held communion with his God. It was natural that, when no longer running from place to place, his mind, so set on the work of the Lord, should outrun him, and that his thoughts and prayers should be constantly with his beloved flock in the Indian forests, at the Forks of the Delaware. He thought much of a man, who had been a very popular conjuror and pow-wow, and who, after following his juggling tricks and charming the people with his superstitions, had heard the Word under the ministry of Brainerd, and become perfectly unhappy on account of his sins. His power of conjuration suddenly left him, he could no longer perform the tricks and juggling which had made him such an attraction to the people, and with a wounded spirit was forever crying, “I can never do any more to save myself, all done forever, I can do no more; my heart is dead, I can never help myself, I must go to hell.” After being thus dejected for a long space, he came to Brainerd with the eager inquiry, “When would I preach again?” for he wanted to hear the Word of God every day. “But,” said the Missionary, “I thought you said your heart was dead, and all was done?” His reply was, “I love to hear you speak about Christ for all.” Although miserable and uncomforted himself, he had a strange desire to see others converted. “I would have others come to Christ, if I go to hell myself,” was his remark, as for himself, he still persisted that all that he did signified nothing at all.
“But,” says Brainerd, “after he had continued in this frame of mind more than a week, while I was discoursing publicly, he seemed to have a lively soul-refreshing view of the excellency of Christ and the way of salvation by Him, which melted him to tears and filled him with admiration, comfort, satisfaction and praise to God. Since, he has offered to be a humble, devout and affectionate Christian, serious and exemplary in his conversation, frequently complaining of his barrenness, his want of spiritual warmth, life and activity, and yet frequently favored with quickening and refreshing influences. In all respects as far as I am able to judge, he bore the marks and characters of one created anew in Christ to good works.”
Many of the thoughts which shone out so luminously in the mind of Brainerd during this time of prostration, are quite as applicable to the experiences of the Christians of to-day. He passed in review the constant strife between good and evil in the world, and asked himself why the Church was so powerless and inactive. He trembled for the fate of those whose self-confidence was the chief characteristic of their religion.
“These things I saw,” he writes, “with great clearness, when I was thought to be dying, and God gave me great concern for His Church and interest in the world at this time; not so much because the late remarkable influence upon the minds of the people was abated, as because that false religion those hearts of imaginations and wild and selfish commotions of the animal affections which attended the work of grace, had prevailed so far. This was that which my mind dwelt upon, almost day and night, and this to me was the darkest appearance respecting religion in the land, for it was this chiefly that had prejudiced the world against inward religion. And I saw the great misery of all was, that so few saw any manner of difference between those exercises that are spiritual and holy, and these which have self-love only for their beginning, center and end.”
Thus lying on a bed of sickness, but supported by the grace of God, he longed for the time when he should again revisit his Indians. This honor was not to be, his race was nearly run, and his work almost accomplished.
“I long to see this excellence
Which at such distance strikes my sense
My impatient soul struggles to disengage
Her wings from the confinement of her cage,
Wouldst Thou great Love this prisoner once set free
How would she hasten to be linked with Thee!
She’d for no angel conduct stay
But fly and love on all the way.”
J. Norris.