It was natural that John should imbibe the spirit of his father’s creed and for him to expect, should he be among the elect, that some visible or audible manifestation of divine approval should be given him. The great revival which swept the country in the beginning years of the nineteenth century was at its height as he began seriously to think upon the subject of religion. It was the theme he heard discussed on every hand, and he determined to investigate it as far as his limited resources would permit. Failing to find the way to assured salvation, he at last appealed to a Baptist preacher, Isaac Denton, a friend of the family, for light upon the subject which was beginning to agitate his mind. According to the prevailing notion, conversion was a change of a mysterious nature wrought out in the soul by supernatural agency. This change young Smith now most sincerely desired to experience. With this in mind the following conversation took place:
Smith—What must I do in order to have this change of which you speak?
Denton—Nothing, John; God’s grace is sovereign and unconditional. If you are his sheep you will be called, and you will hear his voice and follow him.
Smith—But when, Mr. Denton, will the Lord call?
Denton—In his own good time, John. He has worked out your whole life, and determined your destiny according to his own wise, but hidden and eternal, purpose.
Smith—How then may I know whether I am one of his sheep or not?
Benton—You will know it by your change when it comes; till then you can only wait on the Lord and hope.
Smith—If I am left to perish I know it will be on account of my sins; but if I should be saved, will it not be on account of my goodness?
Denton—The Lord sees no goodness in you, John. If you are ever brought to life, it will be solely because it was his good pleasure to choose you before the foundation of the world, and that, too, without any reference to your character or works foreseen by him. True, if you should be lost, if you perish, it will be on account of your sins, and to the praise of his glorious justice.
Smith—My destiny, you say, is fixed and I can not change it. I need not, then, give myself any concern; I have nothing to do.
Denton—Ah, great is the mystery of godliness. There is something for you to do.
Smith—What is it, Mr. Denton?
Denton—You must pray, pray, pray in the dust and ashes to the Lord.
Smith—Pray for what, sir?
Denton—That the blinding scales may fall from your eyes, and that you may see and feel what you really are in the sight of God; for you are yet in the gall of bitterness and the bonds of iniquity.
It is not strange that a young man with keen intellect of John Smith should have turned from such instruction, saying, “Since my destiny is fixed and I can not change it, I need not, then, give myself any concern. I have nothing to do.”
But his heart was not to be stifled by the forbidding theology. While stoutly for a season he maintained his unbelief, his position was not satisfactory to himself, and he resolved at last to examine the subject in the light of the Scriptures. Though failing to find proof of the doctrines taught, he became convinced of his duty to be a Christian, and, knowing no way to approach to Christ, he began earnestly and persistently to seek religion after the manner of the times. The illness and death of his venerable father in the spring of 1804, deepened his interest in personal salvation, and from that time through many weary months he sought for assurance of saving grace. In his fruitless search his agony was indescribable.
He had been taught that an indispensable step to salvation was to feel himself the greatest of sinners. This he desired to do, and then despaired of salvation, simply because he could not feel that he was “too wicked to be saved.” A gloomy cloud overshadowed his sunny temper. His nights were sleepless and his days filled with torment. In vain he prostrated himself alone in the forest and prayed for the blessed assurance of his pardon. Finally, after a night spent in agonizing prayer, his heart seemed to throw off its burden, and he was happy. Returning home and relating his experience to his brother William, the latter replied with joy, “You are converted, John, at last.” He went to a meeting, expecting to offer himself for membership, but the weird experience of others sent him away in sorrow and disgust. His mind was again beclouded by doubts and despair, and he prayed the Lord to keep his poor heart from error and to lead him by the right way into the everlasting kingdom.
Religious friends who had watched with solicitude the long and painful struggle of the young man believed that a work of grace had already been wrought in his heart, and urged him to relate the facts before the congregation. This he did on December 26, 1804, giving a plain statement of his religious struggles, and though his experience was lacking in the marvelous element which characterized the conversion of that time, the congregation unanimously voted him the subject of a work of grace. The next day he was baptized, and at once entered into the active service of the Master to find in doing the peace he had failed to receive in seeking.
DESIRES TO PREACH
No sooner had John Smith been received into the Baptist Church than he became exceedingly anxious to preach the unsearchable riches of Christ. But two obstacles rose before him which seemed an insurmountable barrier to the realization of his desires. One was his ignorance. In his brief term of schooling he had barely learned to read and his surroundings and occupation had left him without further means of self-improvement, as he looked with yearning heart toward the ministry, he “wept at the thought that he was now a man without an education.” No less was the hindrance which the popular sentiment of the day threw across his pathway. It was regarded as an almost unpardonable act of presumption to stand before the people as an expounder of the Scriptures without a supernatural call, and yet he was without evidence of such a call to preach the gospel. No voice spoke to his listening ear. No answer came to his earnest prayer. No sign met his expectant vision.
In the face of these obstacles the way seemed completely blocked, so nothing remained for him to do but to continue in his labors on the farm. At last circumstances opened up before him for larger usefulness for God. His widely scattered neighbors were pious people, and, in the absence of churches and ministers, often gathered at night after a day of toil, in each other’s cabins, to sing and pray, and talk about their religious interests. At these meetings he was present, when circumstances would permit, and his native ability, gave him pre-eminence among them. As they met from house to house they often constrained him to lead in prayer. In these religious meetings his confidence increased, his heart warmed, and he greatly desired to enter into more active service. But still he waited for some audible call which should assure him of the Lord’s will. His brethren urged that when God gave man a talent, he gives the right to use it. He was finally persuaded to lay aside his scruples, and at the prayer meeting he consented to make a short talk. The appointment was made, the people came together, filling the house to its utmost capacity, the light from the fire fell full upon his face as he arose and stood near the table, but as he looked into the faces of his neighbors, he was seized with stage fright, and forgot everything he had hoped to say. He fled from the house and sought the darkness outside, but in his hurried flight he stumbled and fell to the ground. As he arose his mind cleared, and he returned and delivered a thrilling address, and from that time he continued in his humble way to lead those who were as sheep without a shepherd.
He waited anxiously for the call, but it came not. But the call from his brethren was so strong that he continued to exercise the gift of exhortation, with increasing desire to devote his life to the work of proclaiming the Gospel to his fellowmen. In deference to the judgment of his brethren, who urged him to lay aside all scruples and become their preacher, he at last consented to be ordained, and entered at once upon the duties of his new calling, while continuing to provide for his family by his labors on the farm. He was marvelously endowed for the work of a pioneer preacher. “His well-toned voice and earnest manner, his fine common sense and unaffected piety, rendered him pre-eminently popular as a speaker; his genial humor, too, threw its sunny influence on all around him and made him the delight of every fireside.” As his reputation spread flattering offers came to him from the more favored portions of Kentucky, through which he was induced to travel on a preaching tour. Wealthy congregations, pleased with his originality and genius, offered him what was then regarded as a handsome salary to labor with them. But, conscious of his lack of education and culture, he declined these offers, while his soul, for the time lifted up with pride, planned ambitiously for the future.