12. Again. When I commenced my career of religious exploration, I expected I should get rid of all difficulties, and that I should reach a region at last where all would be light; where there would be no more harassing or perplexing mysteries. For a time my hopes appeared to get realized. The doctrines of Calvinism I threw away in mass, and thus got rid of the difficulties connected with predestination, election and reprobation. The difficulties connected with infinite and absolute fore-knowledge I got rid of by modifying and limiting the doctrine. Many theological difficulties appeared to arise, not from the doctrines of Scripture, but from anti-christian fictions, and false theories of Scripture doctrines. These I set aside without much ceremony. But when one difficulty was disposed of, another made its appearance, and in some cases several. And when I got outside the religion of Christ, more difficulties than ever made their appearance, and difficulties often of a more appalling character. The doctrine of predestination came back in the shape of fate or necessity. All the great difficulties of theology had ugly likenesses in infidel philosophy. Instead of reaching a region of unsullied light, I got into one of clouds and darkness. And the further I wandered, the blacker the clouds became, and the thicker the darkness. The difficulties, the perplexities, on the side of unbelief, were more distressing and embarrassing than those I had encountered on the side of Christianity.
13. Again. I was frequently tried by the characters of unbelievers. I had read and believed that many of the older unbelievers had been immoral; but I supposed that modern unbelievers were a better class. I had seen a number of statements to that effect in books and newspapers, some of them proceeding from Christians, and even from Christian ministers. I was disposed to believe that even the older infidels had not been so bad as represented. I knew that I had been belied, and I considered it probable that all who had had quarrels or controversies with members of the priesthood, had been belied in like manner. I believed for a long time, that the loss of faith in the supernatural origin of Christianity and the Bible, had made me better, in some respects, instead of worse. I thought no changes had taken place in my character, but what, on the whole, were improvements. For years after I became an unbeliever, I endeavored to practise all the unquestionable virtues inculcated in the Bible, and I was disposed to believe that modern unbelievers generally did the same. And when I lectured against the Divine authority of the Bible, I disclaimed, as I have already said, all sympathy with those who rejected the Bible because it discountenanced vice. And such was the violence of my anti-religious fanaticism, that I had actually come at one time to believe that infidelity, in connection with natural science, was more friendly to virtue than Christianity.
But my faith in this view met with many rude shocks after I had been some time in America. Often when I came to be acquainted with the men who invited me to lecture, I was ashamed to be seen standing with them in the streets; and I shrank from the touch of their hand as from pollution. And many a time when I had associated with persons for a length of time, thinking them above suspicion, I was amazed to find, at length, that they looked on vicious indulgence as harmless, and were astonished that any man who had lost his faith in Christianity, should have scruples with regard to fornication or adultery. Though these painful discoveries did not at once convince me that infidelity was wrong, and Christianity right, they were not without effect. They lessened my respect for the infidel philosophy, and prepared the way for my return to Christ. In England, where I expected on my return, to find unbelievers better, I found them worse. I supposed that the Secularists thought as I did with regard to virtue. I thought their object was to advance the temporal interests of mankind, and never dreamt but that they regarded virtue as the greatest of those interests. And when I found first one and then another to be dishonest, drunken, licentious, I was disposed to regard them as exceptions to the general rule. To the last; nay, for some time after my entire separation from the party, I supposed the profligate, unprincipled, abandoned ones to be the few, and the honest and virtuous ones to be the many. And when at length I was convinced past doubt of my mistake, the effect was terribly painful. But it was salutary. It went far towards convincing me, that whether religion was founded in truth or not, it was necessary to the virtue and happiness of mankind. It prepared me and inclined me still further to return to Christ, and brought me a step or two nearer to His side.
14. Then again, the influences of my family were strongly in my favor. I had a wife that always loved me, and that never ceased to pray. And I had children that grew up believers, to a great extent, under the shadow of my unbelief. They had suffered, as I have already said, from the cruel treatment to which they had seen their father subjected: they had been awfully prejudiced against certain classes of ministers, if not against ministers generally; but now their prejudices were well nigh gone. And they had never been embittered against Christianity. And now they had come to feel strongly in its favor, and to look on skepticism both as a great error, and a terrible calamity. My youngest son was something of a genius. He was a clever mathematician, and an acute logician. And he would say to me sometimes, when he heard me uttering antichristian sentiments, "Father, I think you are wrong. I am sure you are wrong on that point; and if you will listen to me I think I can convince you that you are." And I did listen. I had long been accustomed to regard my children more as friends and companions, than as inferiors, and to encourage them to speak to me with all freedom. And they were kind and considerate enough as a rule to use the liberty I gave them without abusing it; so I hearkened to their remarks and remonstrances. And there were occasions on which the logic of the child proved mightier than the logic of the father—there were cases in which the father learned lessons of truth, from those whom he ought to have instructed. My eldest son, if not so powerful in logic, was surpassed by none in goodness and tenderness; and if his brother excelled him in acuteness and caution, no one could excel him in devout and passionate longings for his father's return to Christ. And both these sons, and the whole of my family, exerted an influence, which tended first to check the extravagances of my skepticism, and then to help and hasten my return to the truth as it is in Jesus.
My sons assisted me in more ways than one. They were more observant of men than I was, and they were better judges of character. And they had better opportunities than I had, of learning what the infidels with whom they came in contact, really were, both in their principles and way of life. And they were readier to receive the truth on the subject than I. The consequence was, that both in America and in England, they gathered up a multitude of facts that I should have passed unnoticed; and were prepared to use them for my benefit, when the proper time should come. And the proper time did come at length. I could believe nothing against parties with whom I was connected, on any one's testimony, till I had begun myself to detect their misdoings. My wife and children knew this, so they never troubled me with their discoveries, till I had myself begun to make similar discoveries. As soon as they found I had seen enough to shake my confidence in a number of the unbelievers—as soon as they found that I had got rid of my mad prejudices in favor of the parties, and had so far come to myself as to have obtained the use of my eyes and understanding, they knew that the time for making known to me their discoveries had come. And they made them known. And they agreed so perfectly with what I myself had seen and proved, that I could no longer discredit their statements. And they explained a multitude of other matters. Thus another blow was struck, both at my faith in skeptics, and my faith in skepticism.
And both my wife and children had, on the whole, wonderful patience with me in my tardy movements towards the truth. When I consider how much of evil they saw in connexion with infidelity, and how strong their feeling was of the truth and necessity of religion, I wonder at their forbearance. At times their patience was well-nigh exhausted, but they seldom betrayed the fact by their behavior. But my eldest son informed me, after my return to Christ, that at one time, doubting whether I should ever be cured of my insanity, he made up his mind to forswear all other occupations, and give himself exclusively to the Christian ministry, that he might spend his life and powers in a ceaseless warfare against the horrible delusions to which I seemed so irretrievably wedded.
15. In the year 1857, towards the close of the summer, I left my home in Nebraska for a time, and went eastward on a lecturing tour. My first appointment was at East Liverpool, in Ohio. There I met with my good, old friend John Donaldson, of Byker, near Newcastle-on-Tyne, England. He spoke of days long past, when we worked together in the cause of Christ. He was kind, as he had always been; but it troubled him to find me so changed—so far estranged from the views of former times. Though glad to see my friend, the memories which his presence revived, of the days when I was a happy and a useful minister of Christ, and the partial re-awakening of old religious thoughts and feelings which it occasioned, made me feel, for a moment, an indescribable sensation, as of one who had got an unlooked-for glimpse of some fearful loss he had sustained, or of some tremendous mistake he had committed. My infidel logic, however, hastened to my aid, and assured me I was right; but the deep and deathless instincts of my soul were not entirely at rest.
I reached Philadelphia at length. There I was engaged by Dr. W. Wright for eight months. I lectured every Sunday, sometimes on theological, sometimes on moral, and sometimes on scientific and general subjects. I always urged on my hearers a virtuous life, and did what I could to escape the society of persons of immoral habits. And I thought, for a time, I had succeeded. But I was grievously mistaken. One of the acting men in my congregation was a Plymouth man. He, as I afterwards found, had deserted his wife and family, and was living with another woman. Another, a more important member of my congregation, whom I supposed to be an example of propriety, turned out to be an advocate of unlimited license. And another, a man of great wealth, who had often invited me to his house, and shown me kindness in other ways, I found, after his death, had never been married to the person with whom he had lived as his wife. I also found that he had another family in another part of the city. I mention these unpleasant matters to show, that facts were not wanting to shake my faith in the moral influence of infidel principles. The gentleman by whom I was employed, treated me with great respect and kindness, and some of my congregation did what they could to make me comfortable; but the longer I remained in my position, the less encouragement I saw to expect infidelity or skepticism to produce a virtuous and honorable life.
The gentleman by whom I was employed had thought of expending some fifty thousand dollars in building a hall, and endowing a lecture, &c., for the propagation of infidel principles; but the conduct of the skeptics that gathered round him, soon cured him of his anti-christian zeal.
16. Before my term was quite expired, I was engaged by another gentleman for eight months. But I had seen so much to shake my faith in the beneficent tendency of infidelity, that this time I left myself free, both to lecture on what subjects I thought best, and to leave my situation on two months' notice. As my new engagement did not commence for three months or more, I had the happiness of spending some time in the bosom of my family. As usual, the influences to which I was subject there were all calculated to abate my faith in irreligious principles, and to dispose me to look with less disfavor and prejudice on Christianity. In August I started again for Philadelphia. I left my family with sadness and tears, and I proceeded on my journey with a feeling that it would not be long before my labors in Philadelphia would come to an end. And the feeling grew stronger every week. The Hebrews had a hard task when they were required to make bricks without straw; but he who undertakes to make people good without religion, has to make bricks without clay—and that is a vast deal harder. I felt my position was not the right one, and I longed and sighed for something more in accordance with my gradually changing views and better feelings; but knew not exactly what it was I needed, or where it was to be found. I frequently attended the ministry of Dr. Furness, the Unitarian minister; and though his preaching was far from being all it should be, his sermons had a salutary effect on my mind. His words about God and duty, about Christ and immortality, fell on my soul at times like refreshing dew. I also went to hear the Rev. Albert Barnes, and was both pleased and surprised with the truth and excellence of many of his remarks. I heard several other ministers; but the irrational and anti-christian doctrines set forth by some of them, exerted an influence on my mind which was the opposite of salutary.