Part 1 (2/2)
In Leipzig, Germany, in 1866 there stood an old three-story mansion, used as a manufactory of mechanical toys. An American student attending the university was invited to visit the showrooms in the upper story and became intently interested in the surprising exhibition of inventive genius. As the visitor descended to the second and first floors he visited the rooms where machinery of many kinds was turning out various parts of the toys. But when he ventured to descend to the cellar to look at the power plant he found ”No admission” on every door. But he was more disappointed when he was told that the ”designing room,” where the toys were invented and the drawings made, was in the subcellar. In order to preserve their patents and their secret processes, even the workmen on the upper floors were forbidden ever to look into the subcellar.
That ill.u.s.trative fact came forcibly to mind when meditating long over a letter written by a praying student and author who said that he felt sure that the only direct pa.s.sage between the human soul and the world spirits is through the subconscious mind. From that subcellar of the soul come ideas, impulses, and suggestions which most largely influence our actions. But we are forbidden to enter that department to examine the plans or listen to the wireless dispatches from the spirit world so continuously received there. ”No admission” is posted on every door to the subcellar designing room of the human soul. We get the blue prints of new plans, or read suggestions for new or improved work sent up to our brains. But who makes them we do not know. In the impenetrable regions of our mental and spiritual nature are formulated many ideas and moral laws which we must blindly obey. A man is what he thinks, and the larger portion of his thinking is originated or molded in his subconscious self. That is evidently the meaning of the reference by Peter to the ”hidden man of the heart.” It is amazing to the careful student of our mental const.i.tution to find out how meager is the part of our thinking which originates in the suggestions of our five senses.
From the Grecian and German philosophers some psychologists derived the hypothesis that the subconscious self is only the aggregation of all the faint or half-formed ideas which are not strong enough to force themselves up into full recognition by the brain. Consciousness includes only those thoughts which the brain accepts and uses in positive action.
That theory seems to be in a measure, true. There are faint suggestions and half-formed motives of which we catch glimpses and which never seem to be fully developed. Also the natural instincts of our animal nature still continue and persist in our higher station in the creative order.
It can be noted by anyone that perhaps not one in a thousand of our muscular contractions or of our decided actions is consciously dictated by our will. The human race is seemingly, in a large measure, a collection of automatons. We are generally moved about by powers and mechanisms beyond our comprehension and are unconsciously working out designs in the making of which we have no consciously important part.
It is difficult to write clearly on such a subtle theme or explain what is known concerning autosuggestion or explain the laws which, in a measure, control the unconscious part of human life without using technical terms or scientific formulas beyond the understanding of the everyday reader. But, plainly stated, a human being uses but a small inclosure in which he can move on his own conscious volition. We are fearfully and wonderfully made. ”What I would not that I do and what I would that I do not” was not the exclusive experience of the Apostle Paul. But it is the common experience of all mankind. A man's thoughts, happiness, and usefulness are the products of his moral character. His ”subconscious self” is his real character. What one does consciously may not represent his real character, but that which he does without meditation or conscious limitation represents the true disposition or tendency of his real nature. Inasmuch as ye are disposed by nature or by second nature to be a good Samaritan or to aid ”the least of these,” ye have lived a continual good deed for the Master. The redeemed soul is one whose permanent disposition, called his ”subconscious” or ”subliminal self,” is controlled by the magnetic influence of the spirit of truth and goodness. The few matters on which the brain acts directly are the deeds of the conscious mind. They are controlled by the will and reasoning powers of the independent portion of man's being. They may or may not accord with the heart's general impulses or they may be the direct product of the heart's purposes. The will and the subconscious self interact, each influencing the other. This thought presents ”a logical contradiction” which has puzzled many great minds.
But our appeal here is to the everyday experience of sincere, truthful Christians concerning their communication with G.o.d through the subconscious mind. One writer states that she has often received trustworthy messages from the spirit world in dreams and in unusual impressions during waking hours. This statement often arouses the general prejudice which some of the extreme spiritualists or deceivers have brought upon the theory of mental communication with the departed; but it should be examined on its own merits without bias. The testimony of the millions who believe or hope that they have had messages from their beloved who have gone on before counts for much and is not a testimony confined to professional mediums. The rejection of the theory that it is possible for angel beings to communicate with mortals, and that they are sent of G.o.d to do so, involves the rejection of the whole Bible as a divinely truthful Book. If there is no open path through the subconscious self to the spirit world, then the recorded visits of the Holy Spirit to the hearts of men are only idle tales. The disbelief in the soul's ability to hear heavenly voices or receive spiritual suggestions from other spirits would destroy all trust in supernatural religions. G.o.d does speak to man in the events and laws of the material life, and he also speaks to us in the ”quiet, small voice” as he did to Elijah at Sinai. There appears to be no alternative but to believe in that declaration, for to reject it is to reject the whole body of Christian teaching. We will not entertain such a suicidal proposition.
The indestructible spirit body is the same being and possesses the same characteristics in the material body that it possesses when separated from this limiting framework of the earthly body. It is indestructible, but it can be modified in disposition while in this body. That statement, for the sake of brevity, is mentioned dogmatically, but it will be ill.u.s.trated by the following testimonials.
One writer who evidently has been reared to believe sincerely in ”emotional religion,” who shouts and groans and wrings his hands at any devotional meeting, but whose probity and strong good sense are the admiration of his friends, states that he knows ”that his Redeemer liveth, by the direct a.s.surance of the Spirit.” He claims that when a man tells him a lie he feels the presence of evil. He testifies that in his most exalted moments following a season of fervent prayer he knows what it is to realize the fact that he lives and moves and has his being in G.o.d.
There are thousands of men and women whose wild behavior in religious meetings is only the natural evidence of a disordered mind. The negro camp meeting and the whirling of the Egyptian dervishes seem to be much alike in their manner of working up a religious excitement. The unbalanced mental condition of some truly honest wors.h.i.+pers causes distrust of others whose good sense in other matters is never questioned.
Other writers tell of their experience of some overpowering emotion which came so logically in answer to their prayer that they cannot doubt that such was truly the fact. A man prayed that he might be protected through the night. He awakened from sleep, moved by an ”inward impulse”
irresistible, and went to the barn to find, as he opened the stable door, a little blaze creeping toward the haymow. It was easily extinguished then, but ten minutes later would have been entirely beyond control. The fire was caused by a lighted cigar dropped carelessly on the stable floor near the horses. Another writes that he is naturally emotional and dares not trust himself on any pinnacle, as he always feels when on any high place a strange desire to leap off in suicide.
He states that the sensitiveness of his emotional nature becomes most acute in religious gatherings, and that he has never found himself mistaken when he has followed the leadings of that spirit. His wife writes that he had, for years, planted the crops which he ”felt like planting” after attending a religious meeting. She adds that while, at first, she had regarded his ”moods” as accidental emotions, she had learned that his crops planted in those moods were always profitable investments. Another who had been trained in the Friends' meeting to wait for the Spirit to move him went so far as to wait for the same impulse in all his undertakings. He tried to lay his business ventures before the Lord in silent prayer and then go in the direction the Spirit indicated. He related how, when once he was lost in a thick forest on a cloudy day, he prayed until his ”sense of direction” became so clear that he started with closed eyes to take the direction toward which his inward impression impelled him.
Another acted always on the impulse of the moment in speaking to a friend or to a stranger upon religious matters. Another wrote that she had observed for many years that the praying housekeepers were guided in their work by the most trustworthy intuitions. Few is the number of women who guide their domestic affairs by the rules of cold science, and the larger part of a mother's movements in the care of her children are the unconscious results of special intuition. She claims that in the intuitional nature of the human soul there is such nearness to the divine nature that the especially sensitive soul ”feels impulses from across the border.”
Here, again, after a day's study of the many accounts concerning the impulses awakened by prayer, we lay down the correspondence with a sigh of regret that nothing absolutely conclusive for or against prayer is to be found. We must still believe or disbelieve according to the measure of faith. In the courts of law attorneys often establish their cases by the use of what is termed ”c.u.mulative evidence,” where they secure the testimony of many witnesses to the same fact. If that custom be applied to the establishment of the fact that emotions and impulses are sent in answer to prayer the number in its favor would be overwhelming. Down in the subcellar of the mind there may be a tunnel leading through to the palace of G.o.d. Millions believe that is a fact. No one can prove it is not so. Therefore, with the reasonable student, the testimony of the many will still be considered trustworthy. The soul of G.o.d speaketh often to the soul of man. A great writer on secular subjects confirmed the general impression when he forcibly wrote, ”You can get almost anything you want, if you only want it hard enough, and long enough, and with faith enough.”
Chapter IV
Praying for Visions of Heaven
A st.u.r.dy young farmer's boy who had inherited a strong body, a clear mind, and a good family name sat under a maple tree in the hayfield at the hot noontide. He was eating a cold lunch and at the same time reading an article in the weekly paper. The editor had written an editorial on the romantic history of the poor country boys who had risen to world-wide fame and to enormous riches. When he had reread the article he tossed the paper aside, lay back on the odorous new-mown gra.s.s, looked up at the deep-blue sky, and watched the pa.s.sing of a pure-white cloud. A vision of what the world might be to him came in a dreamy way. Other boys as poor as he had graduated from college, had made great scientific discoveries, had married rich and beautiful women, had traveled in far countries, had feasted with kings, had held high office, and had written great books. Why could not he follow their example? It seemed impossible, and with a deep sigh he arose and seized his scythe.
But the vision could not be obscured. As his strong muscles drove the sharp blade through the thick gra.s.s he kept muttering to himself, debating pro and con the possibility of an ignorant farmer, living far away from city civilization, and too far from a railroad to hear the whistle, to become powerful in national affairs. How did they start?
What did they do first? When his return swath brought him again near the shade of the tree where he had eaten his lunch he caught up the weekly paper and read again the editorial. Then he left his scythe in the gra.s.s and went into the shade, leaned against the gnarled trunk of the old tree, and, wholly engrossed in earnest thought, forgot his work. He reviewed his own simple life and examined his own plans and ambitions.
He had expected to marry some one of the strong, sensible, country girls and bring her home to live with the old folks, as his father had done. He had a dim idea that he would inherit the old, stony farm some day. He had a latent ambition to raise more corn than his father had raised and to clear a large piece of woodland which for centuries had hidden the mountain side. He would build an addition to the stable and put in a new pair of bars near the brook where the cattle went to drink in winter. He had also a half-formed purpose to join the local church, and perhaps some day he would be an elder.
At last he aroused himself and, with a half-angry impulse, he began to strike the gra.s.s with his scythe as if the gra.s.s were some sneaking enemy. He could not arouse again the sweet content of the forenoon. He had caught a glimpse of that far-away land, and while he did not hope ever to enter it, yet the thought disturbed him.
The next Sunday the echo of the old church bell, along the narrow, but beautiful, Berks.h.i.+re valleys, called him to church. The cows were milked and fed, the old horse curried, and the ch.o.r.es hastily finished when he ran down the road to overtake the old folks. But the grand forest, the sheening, cascading brook, and the brown fields were not the same to him that they were the day before. The cows and horses in the pastures near the road had lost their fascination and value. The hills seemed lower and the grain fields more narrow, the cottages seemed shrunken, and the old church was but an awkwardly built bungalow. All had changed. His clothing was coa.r.s.er woven and the most attractive girls in their Sunday attire were rude specimens of country verdancy.
As if by a preconceived purpose to accelerate his sweeping mental changes the preacher that morning took his text from the Proverbs of Solomon, wherein he stated that wisdom is more valuable than gold or rubies. The speaker ill.u.s.trated his sermon by showing the value of an education. He mentioned the happiness of the men and women who knew the structure of vegetation, of animals, and the laws which control their life. He mentioned cases of self-made men who had read good books and whose minds could walk with G.o.d through his wonderful natural creations.
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