Common Sense Applied to Religion; Or, The Bible and the People

by Catharine Esther Beecher

At the same time, I found his intelligent, tender, heart-broken mother had for years been living just such a conscientious life, without any hope that she was a Christian, while now her pride and darling son was lost to her forever on earth, and oh! where was he? and where should she meet him at last? And thus she died. The only brother, too, so conscientious and exemplary, was and long continued in the same same position of mind.

These revelations took away all hope of any good from any farther efforts of mine. At this period I almost lost my reason. For some days I thought I should go distracted. The first decided "change of mind" I now recall was an outburst of indignation and abhorrence. I remember once rising, as I was about to offer my usual, now hopeless prayer, with a feeling very like this: that such a God did not deserve to be loved; that I would not love him if I could, and I was glad I did not! It was but momentary, and the long training of years resumed its sway.

It was at this period that I framed my first attempt at serious argument in a letter to my father. I took this position, that our own experience and consciousness were the highest kind of evidence of our mental power, and that I had this evidence of my mental inability to love God as required. My father's reply was published in the Christian Spectator, and was regarded as masterly and unanswerable. Its chief aim was to lessen confidence in my own consciousness, and to show that, as God was just and good, and certainly did require supreme love to him, we had the power to obey. I was unable to meet the argument, and so allowed that it must be so, and that all that was in my way was my own obstinate "unwillingness."

But there was another point about which I attempted to reason that I did not give up so easily. According to the theory of "obstinate unwillingness," there was nothing in the Bible by way of promise, or even encouragement, for any like me. For how could God feel sympathy for obstinate rebels, or how make promises of hope and encouragement to those whose only difficulty was an unreasonable dislike to God and his service? Such texts as I quoted to the contrary (as Prov. 2:1-6; Matth. 7:7; John 4:10) were not for such as I, but for those already converted; and no prayers, even, were acceptable till offered by a renewed heart. So it seemed impossible, in any case, to pray acceptably to God for the greatest of all boons, redemption from the awful doom of eternal death; for at regeneration the blessing was already given, and before that act no prayer was acceptable. So there was no place for such a prayer. This I never accepted, though I did not quite venture to oppose it.

At one time my mind turned with longing and tender emotions toward Jesus Christ. All he said and did appeared so reasonable and so kind that it seemed to me he would hear my prayers. I brought, to sustain this idea, the case of the young man whom "Jesus loved" when he had no religion. Here I was met by a theory that, till now, had not attracted my notice, which was, that there was a human soul in Christ joined to the Divine mind, and that it was this human soul that felt this "human sympathy" for sinners, and bore all the suffering, while the Deity had nothing but calm, unmingled bliss. This made me feel that I could love the human soul, but could not love God. Indeed, the sufferings of this innocent Savior, unshared by God, was the most revolting of all.

At the close of a long year of such darkness and suffering, I went to my friends in Boston, where "a revival" was in progress, and where I met my father. Here I received the most tender sympathy, was taken to prayer-meetings, and every thing was said and done that piety and love could devise for my relief, but all in vain.

Finally, I came to this attitude of mind: "I will not try any more to understand any thing about these doctrines. I will not try any more to 'be convinced of sin' in this inability to love God. Something is the matter: it does not seem like obstinate 'unwillingness;' but if God says so, I will take his word for it. I will assume that He is just, and wise, and good, in spite of all that seems to contrary. I will try to do all He commands the best I can. There must be a dreadful mistake somewhere, but I will trust and obey, and wait quietly for light." At this time my father gave me some little hope. I knew not why, for I did not "love God" according to any of the ordinary tests. But I was encouraged to hope that my heart was "renewed," and I shortly after made a public profession of religion in my father's church.

During my residence with the friends referred to, I attempted the duties of a teacher to two young daughters of the family, and, to prepare myself, for the first time set my mind to real hard study. In five weeks I went through a large Arithmetic, of which I knew almost nothing; in seven weeks I completed Day's Algebra. Two schoolbooks on Chemistry and Natural Philosophy were also mastered that gloomy winter. I had no other resource within or without for so active a mind. Then my father urged me, for the sake of a sister, as my own pecuniary wants had been provided for, to commence a school in Hartford. As I taught only half a day, and "the higher branches" were but just entering female schools, I found no difficulty in keeping sufficiently ahead of my pupils. Thus commenced my career as a teacher.

I went on several years with no other evidence of "love to God," which was the main test of "regeneration," but perseverance in the determination to assume that He was wise, just, and good, and to do all I could to obey him. My great aim in life was to find out what He required from the Bible, and then to try to do it as well as I could. Besides this, I imitated the methods of Christian worthies. I kept a religious diary—read religious books—went to religious meetings—prayed in my school, and taught religion to my pupils as it had been taught to me. Often, when I found suffering young minds embarrassed by my own difficulties, willing and anxious to do all in their power, and yet unable to feel as required, I almost lived over past anguish of spirit, and could scarcely nerve myself to instruct them that all the wrong was their own "obstinate unwillingness." There was a constant conflict between the theories to which I had bowed my intellect, and thought I really believed, and the impulses of my moral nature and common sense.

Sometimes these questions were intolerably imperative. What evidence is there that what God says is true, when He claims to be wise, and just, and good, when He has done such contradictory things? For a single act, done six thousand years ago, the first act of disobedience too, He has so constituted things that all the human minds that might be made right are formed so "depraved" as that not one of them will ever be "willing" to love and obey the Creator till He "renews" their minds. If I were to act thus, I should think it right for every one to believe I was cruel and unjust until I showed good reasons for it. And if I saw any one ruining the minds of young children, or permitting Adam or any one else to do it, when I had power to prevent it, I should say it was right to consider him an abominable and hateful being till he showed good reasons for such a course.