The Conversion Of Adam Clarke

Details

Category: Testimonies

Published on Friday, 03 April 2009 05:38

Written by John Wesley Etheridge

THE CONVERSION OF ADAM CLARKE

By John Wesley Etheridge

From: "The Life of the Rev. Adam Clarke,"
Book I, Chapter 2, by John Wesley Etheridge

The time was at hand when he should no longer stand wondering in the outer court of the Great Unseen, but be admitted within the temple of salvation, and worship and serve Him with them who have access to the Deity Himself: for God, who commanded light to shine out of darkness, was about to shine into his heart, to give him to behold His glory in the face of Jesus Christ. We have had occasion to allude to the low state of religion in the neighborhood where Adam Clarke then lived; but it was by no means so bad as that which was found in many other parts of the three kingdoms. A much deeper ignorance shrouded the myriads of the Irish Catholic population: nor were the peasantry of England more enlightened; while, in the more crowded towns and cities, vice and immorality prevailed in frightful measures.

On the Continent the state of things was infinitely worse. European Christendom had reached the zero of apostasy; Voltairism had come like an evil blast upon the people; and the shadow of atheism fell, colder than death, upon the millions. But God was now revealing in our land His signal mercy. There was the voice of one crying in the desert, "Repent: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." The Gospel had become a freshly-uttered oracle from heaven. The sower had gone forth to sow: the Sun of righteousness, breaking through the clouds, shed healing beams; and the showers of heavenly influence gathered over his path. WESLEY was then fulfilling his course, and approaching, indeed, the consummation of that illustrious career in which he had been made the instrument of wondrous good, not only in our island-home, but across the ocean too, in the distant lands of the West. The agencies of Methodism were becoming more extensive and more potent every year; and, in the order of a merciful Providence, some of the devoted men who toiled in the great work were led to visit the hamlets and villages of the north of Ireland.

The Clarkes had hitherto known nothing of these men. A stray anecdote of one of them, which Adam met with in a newspaper, gave him the first intimation of their existence. One day it was rumored in the neighborhood that there would be preaching that evening at a farm-place, called Burnside; a barn, with a cottage attached to it. Adam went, along with a companion of his, a son of Counsellor O'Neil. It was now that he saw for the first time a Methodist preacher, -- a tall thin man, with serious-looking countenance, and long hair. Adam heard the sermon with inward reasonings, and not without some feeling. His mind seemed to be drawn to the man; and, when the service was over, he lingered near him. The preacher turned, and with deep solemnity exhorted him to give himself to God.

Adam was so far impressed as to wish to hear this doctrine more largely. He seized the first occasion, and heard Mr. Brettell again. The text was, "Behold, I stand at the door, and knock." The effect of this sermon was to show him, that the consequence of slighting the call of mercy would be everlasting ruin. Meanwhile the preachers stationed at Coleraine had made arrangements for regularly visiting that neighborhood as a part of their Circuit; and Mr. Brettell was followed by Mr. Thomas Barber, a truly apostolic man, under whose ministry a multitude of people in various parts of the country had been awakened to repentance. Mrs. Clarke herself was now induced to attend. She heard, and immediately pronounced, "This is the doctrine of the Reformers; this is true and unadulterated Christianity." The Lord had opened her heart to receive His truth, and she forthwith opened her dwelling to its messengers, where, from time to time, they found a welcome resting-place, and brought the blessing of their Master with them; for salvation came to that house. Mrs. Clarke now joined the newly-formed Society.

As for Adam, though not violently affected, he had become seriously bent on the salvation of his soul. Anxious to hear the Gospel at every opportunity, he rose at four in the morning to complete his day's work, so as to be able to go here and there in the evening to listen to the word; and his chief study now, in the intervals he could spare from toil, was the examination of what he heard by the test of the written word of God, -- "searching the Scriptures daily, whether these things were so." In short, he had now matriculated in the school of Jesus Christ, in which alone the divine or the Christian can be formed; and he sat at the feet of a master who could make him wise to salvation. His Scripture-reading had hitherto been desultory; but he now began to read the New Testament regularly through, and that with deep attentive and earnest prayer.

One consequence was, his mind became enlightened to comprehend the analogy of the faith; the great redeeming plan, so harmonious with itself and with all truth. From these oracles of the living God he learned his creed, and never changed it. Another and yet more important consequence was, he was gradually enabled to lay hold upon the truth, thus revealed, with that faith of the heart which made him a new creature. The Spirit was working his great work of mercy in his soul; convincing him of sin, righteousness, and judgment; awakening him alike to a sense of guilt, and a despair of escaping its punishment, if left to his own bankrupt resources. "All his past diligence, prayer, reading, and so forth, now appeared as nothing; multitudes of evils, which before were undiscovered, were now pointed out to his conscience as with a sunbeam. He was filled with confusion and distress; wherever he looked, he saw nothing but himself. The light which penetrated his mind led him into all the chambers of the house of imagery; and everywhere he saw idols set up in opposition to the worship of the true God. He wished to flee from himself, and looked with envy on stocks and stones; for they had not offended a just God, and were incapable of hearing his displeasure.

"The season was summer time. The fields were in their beautiful dress; the flocks and herds browsed in the pastures, and the birds caroled in the sky and in the woods; but his eyes and ears were no longer inlets to pleasure. In point of gratification, nature was to him a universal blank, for he felt himself destitute of the image and approbation of his Maker; and besides this consciousness there seemed to be needed no other to complete his misery. He said, with one of old, 'O that I knew where I might find Him, that I might come even to His seat! Behold, I go forward, but He is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive Him; on the left hand, where He doth work, but I cannot behold Him; He hideth Himself on the right hand, that I cannot see Him.' "

Let us not be told here anything about moody melancholy or ignorant fanaticism. There is not a vestige of fanaticism in the case. Here is a young man of education, sound in health, steady in nerves, vigorous in intellect, and, so far as outward morality is concerned, of well-regulated and virtuous habits of life; but thoughtful betimes of the great question which, sooner or later, shakes every human soul, -- How can a fallen sinner be reconciled to God? The Bible is in His hand, and the light of the Holy Spirit shining in His conscience. Can we wonder, then, at his solicitude? He had within himself a dread sense of wrongness before his Divine Judge; and the all-absorbing care of his heart was, "How can I be set right?" Was not this a rational inquiry? Who is the insane fanatic, -- the man who in these circumstances, common to us all, asks the question, "What must I do to be saved?" or he who wilfully ignores it?

He who would be saved feels the need of THE SAVIOUR; and whatever interferes with the clear view of the Divine majesty and power of the adorable Being who is revealed in the Gospel in that most blessed character, will interfere with that man's salvation. With such an obstacle Adam Clarke had just now to contend, through painful doubts on the Divinity of Jesus Christ, which some Unitarian acquaintances of his had thrown upon his mind. But in his well-read New Testament he had the infallible antidote to this evil, and he overcame it. He found also some help to faith in partaking for the first time of the Holy Communion; but still he could not lay hold on the promises of God, so as to be delivered from those fears of perdition which sometimes rose within him like an agony. In after-days he saw the value and purpose of those exercises. "It was necessary that I should have hard travail. God was preparing me for an important work. I must emphatically sell all to get the pearl of great price. If I had lightly com e by the consolations of the Gospel, I might have let them go as lightly. It was good that I bore the yoke in my youth. The experience that I learned in my long tribulation "was none of the least of my qualifications as a minister of the Gospel."

At length, however, the day of deliverance, the "time of finding," came. He had been brought to that point in which, had it been longer delayed, the spirit that God had made would have failed before Him. We shall be most sure in giving the recital in his own words: --

"One morning, in great distress of soul, he went out to his work in the field. He began, but could not proceed, so great was his mental anguish. He fell down on his knees in the earth, and prayed; but seemed to be without power or faith. He arose and endeavored to work, but could not; even his physical strength seemed to have departed from him. He again endeavored to pray; but the gates of heaven appeared as if barred against him. His faith in the atonement, so far as it concerned himself, was almost entirely gone; he could not believe that Jesus had died for him; the thickest darkness seemed to gather round and settle on his soul.

He fell flat on his face on the earth, and endeavored to pray, but still there was no answer: he arose, but he was so weak that he could scarcely stand. His agonies were indescribable: he seemed to be for ever separated from God and the glory of His power. Death, in any form, he could have preferred to his present feelings, if that death could put an end to them. No fear of hell produced those terrible conflicts. He had not God's approbation; he had not God's image. He felt that without a sense of His favor he could not live. Where to go, what to say, and what to do, he found not: even the words of prayer at last failed; he could neither plead nor wrestle with God.

It is said, the time of man's extremity is the time of God's opportunity. He now felt strongly in his soul, 'Pray to Christ:' another word for, 'Come to the Holiest through the blood of Jesus.' He looked up, confidently, to the Saviour of sinners. His agony subsided, his soul became calm. A glow of happiness thrilled through his frame: all guilt and condemnation were gone. He examined his conscience, and found it no longer a register of sins against God. He looked to heaven, and all was sunshine; he searched for his distress, but could not find it. He felt indescribably happy, but could not tell the cause; a change had taken place within him of a nature wholly unknown before, and for which he had no name.

He sat down upon the ridge where he had been working, full of ineffable delight. He praised God. His physical strength returned, and he could bound like a roe. He had felt a sudden transition from darkness to light, from guilt and oppressive fear to confidence and peace. He could now draw nigh to God with more confidence than he could to his earthly father; he had freedom of access, and freedom of speech. He was like a person who had got into a new world, where, although every object was strange, yet each was pleasing: and now he could magnify God for his creation, a thing he never could do before. O, what a change was here! and yet, lest he should be overwhelmed with it, its name and its nature were in a great measure hidden from his eyes.

Shortly after this, Mr. Barber came to his father's house: when he departed, Adam accompanied him a little on the way. When they came in sight of the field that had witnessed the agonies of his heart, and the breaking of his chains, he told Mr. Barber what had taken place. The man of God took off his hat, and, with tears flowing down his cheeks, gave thanks to God. 'O, Adam,' said he, 'I rejoice in this. I have been in daily expectation that God would shine upon your soul, and bless you with the adoption of His children.' Adam stared at him, and said within himself, 'O, he thinks, surely, that I am justified, that God has forgiven my sins, that I am now His child. O, blessed be God, I believe, I feel I am justified, through the redemption that is in Jesus.' Now he clearly saw what God had done; and though he had felt the blessing before, and was happy in the possession of it, it was only now that he could call it by its name. Now he saw and felt, that 'being justified by faith, he had peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom he had received the atonement.'

"He continued in peace all the week. The next Lord's day there was a lovefeast in Coleraine: he went to it, and during the first prayer kneeled in a corner, with his face to the wall. While praying, the Lord Jesus seemed to appear to the eyes of his mind, as he is described, Rev. i. 13, 14, 'clothed with a garment down to the foot, and girt about the paps with a golden girdle; His head and His hair white as snow, and His eyes like a flame of fire.' And, though in strong prayer before, he suddenly stopped, and said, though not perhaps in a voice to be heard by those who were by him, ' Come nearer, O Lord Jesus! ' Immediately he felt as if God had shone upon the work he had wrought, and called it by its own name. He fully and clearly knew that he was a child of God the Spirit bore this witness in his conscience, and he could no more have doubted of it, than he could of the reality of his own existence.

Adam Clarke, having thus found the liberty of God's children, felt a powerful instinct in his heart to enjoy communion with them of whom he could now say, "Their Father is my Father; and their God, my God." He accordingly lost no time in becoming a member of the Methodist Society; thus, at once, giving his heart to God, and his hand to His cause and people. Some months before, he had accompanied his mother to her class-meeting, but was not at that time in such a state of mind as to render the manner in which the hour was spent sufficiently attractive to induce him to repeat the visit. Now, a great change had been wrought in this respect also; for his heart had become as theirs, and his name took its place in their registries, to abide in them for ever. *[8] This was the right procedure. Had he remained aloof from the church, as too many do in similar cases, he, as they do, would have deprived himself of a Divinely appointed means of succour for the mind in the temptations of life, and would probably have f ailed, after all, of the grace of God. But he looked at the Christian church as a Divine institution, and felt it his duty to God, to man, and to himself, to be identified with it. And to what part of it should he so naturally unite himself as to that which had been the means of his conversion? And in doing this, it was the steadfast conviction of his long life, he had done rightly. Unlike the weak-minded and worldly, he was not to be warned off from the fulfillment of a grand duty by the vain bugbear of a name. On the contrary, if there were any reproach in bearing the name of "Methodist," he was the more willing to bear it for the love which now reigned in his heart to Him who was called the Nazarene.

• < Prev
• Next >