Chapter 18 - CAUGHT UP IN THE SPIRIT

Before allowing me to say anything about this subject, philosophers would doubtless insist that I should first define my terms. What do I mean by being 'caught up' and by 'Spirit' ? As a matter of fact I can define neither, so I shall not attempt to do so; but as I proceed the terms used will, I hope, explain themselves. But in any case, it is impossible to define Spirit, for 'God is Spirit: and they, that worship Him must worship Him in Spirit and in Truth', and one cannot describe That which cannot be defined.

It all began in quite a small way when I was in my mid-twenties. I think that at that time I thought that I had in me the making of a preacher; indeed I may have cherished hopes and ambitions of becoming a great preacher, capable of attracting and swaying enormous crowds of people.

Consequently when there was a call for local preachers, I was one of those who volunteered for the honour and without examination or test, was accepted. As viewed from the pew, the office of preacher seemed simple and I often wondered why so many preachers did not do better than they did. But when I came to try to preach I found it quite a different story. As a rule I found it extremely difficult to say anything, and if I did manage to do so it was mediocre in the extreme - depressing both to my hearers and myself.

As a rule the people endured me. They were obviously bored and wearied by my performance; I got nothing from them, while of course they got nothing from me. I was no more in touch with them than I should have been if they had been a hundred miles away.

No matter how carefully I might prepare my sermon, the result would be that when I got up to preach I seemed to be completely alone, in a kind of mental and spiritual wilderness, bereft of ideas and unable to say anything that I had hoped to say except a few hesitating, halting words that were helpful to nobody. These attempts at preaching were very hard work and a great mental strain. The end of my sermon would find me exhausted and miserable, oppressed with a sense of failure and frustration.

That was the general rule; but there were exceptions, rare ones it is true, but all the more precious because of their extreme rarity. On such exceptional occasions, I enjoyed what preachers in those days used to term liberty - an excellent description, for at such times I was set free from all restrictions. Instead of being shut up in myself, cut off from God and man, bereft of ideas, and in a state of misery and loneliness, I found myself lifted out into a state of liberty.

My hearers were in sympathy and responded to everything I said and ideas flowed into my mind, like water from a perpetual fountain. And these ideas found immediate expression in words of simplicity and clarity, without any strain or effort on my part.

The congregation gave me their attention, and there were less fidgeting and coughing than usual. For myself, I was filled with joy and in a state of uplift. All fear was lost and I felt that I was in my right place, with everybody else in his right place also. After it was over, instead of being exhausted, I was stronger and fresher than when I commenced. There was something else which I noticed: whereas in the ordinary way my throat was rather troublesome and I had to relieve it with occasional sips of water, yet when the Spirit took hold of me my throat gave no trouble at all in spite of the fact that I had been speaking without a break for quite a considerable time.

But alas, this happened but rarely. Some who heard me on one of these very infrequent occasions said that I ought to pursue preaching as a calling; but I had changed my mind about this for I had come to the conclusion that I was not intended to be a preacher. If the Spirit had come to me oftener, it would have been a sign that preaching was to be my vocation. But the fact that It came so very seldom, and that for the most part I was left uninspired and flat and lifeless made me decide that preaching was not to be my forte.

I was sure that the only preaching that was really worthwhile was that which was the work of the Holy Spirit alone, so that He spoke through the preacher: then and then only could God's message get through. I have already related the story of an experience which befell me when I was living in East Anglia. On that occasion, for some wise purpose quite unknown to me, God meant to use me in a special way. Time seemed non-existent; I was in the Eternal Now. There was no attempt at preaching, or exhorting, but all - both congregation and preacher - were caught up together in God, and in very truth the Holy Spirit moved in our midst.

Now when the Holy Spirit catches up the speaker at a meeting, He also catches up the audience or congregation. Suddenly a change will come over the meeting, and there is a great stillness and a most impressive silence - the silence of Eternity. Such an experience of the Silence would be painful to one who was neither accustomed nor attuned to it.

I remember some years ago being invited by Richard Whitwell to speak at a meeting at Worthing. By the time I got there the meeting was in full swing, and the presence of the Holy Spirit was apparent to me directly I entered the hall. I had purposely refrained from preparing any address or even selecting a text or a subject. If we are to be a channel of the Spirit, then we must put aside all our own thoughts, ideas and opinions. Consequently when I was called upon to speak, I had nothing to say myself, so all I could do was to open my mouth, and trust to the Spirit to fill it. I was led to say a few very simple words about the true objects of such a meeting - that it was not to give an address or even expound the Scriptures, but simply to find the presence of God, and become filled with the Holy Spirit. I went on to say something to the effect that if or when we enter the true Silence then we enter into Eternity and became one with That which changes not.

As soon as I uttered the word 'Silence' we were immediately all caught up in the Spirit and given Cosmic insight. All the street noises faded away, and it seemed as though we were suspended 'twixt earth and Heaven, released from the fever and fret of life. We had entered into the Silence about which I had been speaking.

I have often read about what happened on the day of pentecost, how that when 'they were all of one accord in one place, there came suddenly a sound from Heaven as of s rushing, mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. I have read all available translations of Acts 2: 2, and all make it appear that it was the sound which filled the house, and not the wind.

However, I have reason to believe that what happened was that the wind also filled the house and not the sound only, for when the presence of the Holy Spirit is felt very strongly in the midst of a gathering of people, a wind may blow through the meeting, although all the windows and doors may be closed at the time. It is also true that not all the people may be conscious of it, but only those who are ready for such an experience.

In the case of the early Church, on the day of Pentecost they were all of one mind in one place. Therefore they were all ready for the experience which came to them and it was possible for the experience to come to all of them. If people of to-day were all of one mind in one place, at one time, and all prepared to realize the presence of God and to receive the Holy Spirit, then the Pentecostal downpouring would be experienced in all its fullness.

We read that after the ascension of Jesus, His followers returned, 'and continued with one accord (all of one mind) in prayer and supplication' (for the Spirit). Do we do so to-day? No, for one thing very few believe that such things are possible; they talk about the day of Pentecost as an event which took place nearly two thousand years ago, but never dream that it might be repeated in these latter days.

Apropos a wind blowing when the Spirit is at work in a meeting, I should like to mention an experience which one of our readers met with at a Salvation Army meeting. At the time this man was very unhappy, being the slave of the tobacco habit and unable to break it. He tried to do so but had become so ill that he had to call in his medical man, who advised him that he was suffering from tobacco poisoning and that he had better break off the habit by degrees. But he found this impossible and so was soon smoking as much as ever. He was unhappy about it, because the money he was spending on tobacco was badly needed at home.

Attracted by the band, he entered a Salvation Army Citadel in order to listen to the music. He did not pay much attention to what was said for 'he had no use for such things' - until a fisherman took charge. This man was a visitor and, having had a real experience of God, was travelling about as a missioner. He possessed Spiritual power, and was evidently being used as a channel by the Spirit.

0ur friend had the shock of his life when the speaker pointed straight at him and said in a loud voice: 'That man there, do you want to get rid of your craving for tobacco? If so, come to the penitent form and ask God to take away the craving, and He will do so, and it will never trouble you again.

Immediately our friend seemed to be engulfed in a sort of miniature whirlwind which appeared to raise him from his seat. The next thing that he remembered was to find himself at the penitent form where he knelt and reviewed his past life - becoming a changed man. Since that time he has not only had no desire to smoke, but has a great revulsion against it.

My reason for relating this is that our friend experienced a strong wind and that he was raised by the Spirit out of his seat.

Here too is an experience which befell a friend of mine whose son was seriously, even dangerously, ill. We were all deeply concerned and were praying for the boy, but instead of improving, his condition grew worse. A specialist was sent for and an immediate and dangerous operation was advised; but when challenged the surgeon had to admit that he could not say that it would be successful or achieve an good whatever, so the operation was not proceeded with.

At last the Spirit came, and the father said that he could feel its power sweeping through the house. His son was completely healed. Healing does not of course always come like that - indeed it is the exception - but I mention this occurrence because it is one more illustration of the way in which the Spirit works in unusual and special circumstances. It is always when all seems lost and failure has attended all our efforts and strivings that the Spirit comes with mighty power, making all things new.

In 1928 a London Centre asked me to address them. As I am no speaker, I decided, as usual, to refuse the invitation, but I found it difficult to do so, for each time I made up my mind to send a refusal I was troubled by the Spirit. The upshot of it all was that I accepted the invitation; but when I recalled my shortcomings as a speaker, I was filled with misgivings. However, I argued that as it was evidently God's wish that I was to speak (and therefore some object was to be achieved), I could safely turn the matter over to Him.

The lady who was in charge of the Centre meetings wrote asking me to write up my forthcoming visit to London in The Science of Thought Review. I replied to the effect that I would not be a party to any such thing, and that al! that I could allow would be a short announcement. The lady wrote back that if I would allow her a few lines she would like to make the announcement herself, which she did in a few lines. I realized afterwards that this was a mistake; I ought never to have given in to her importunity. In the first place, we had enough subscribers in the London area alone to have filled the hall ten times over, but the announcement would be read all over the country.

The unfortunate result was that people came from all parts and at considerable trouble and expense, only to find that it was impossible to get into the small hall. The result was chaotic. At the door there was a surging mass of human beings that when I arrived it was impossible for me to obtain entrance. It seemed that the only thing for me to do was to go home.

Suddenly I caught sight of a man there who knew me - George Corbett of Nottingham - and he would not allow me to return home. By dint of much pushing and struggling he at last managed to get into the hall, with me at his heels.

We found to our dismay that the body of the hall was not only packed, but that some of the audience were sitting on the platform.

All was strain, effort, excitement and confusion, whilst the lady in charge of the meeting implored the people to squeeze more tightly together so as to make it possible for a few more to be accommodated ...I could not help thinking of the words of Jesus: 'But what went ye out for to see, a reed shaken by the wind?' That this text was to have special significance before the meeting was over, I little imagined at the time.

Pandemonium reigned, and to crown all there were some enthusiastic musicians playing fiddles with great gusto!

The meeting opened with a hymn, followed by a credo which everyone repeated in unison (such things to me dry, inadequate, unsatisfying and unnecessary). Then to my horror the leader announced that a collection would be taken - and would the people please give as liberally as possible as the expenses were heavy?

This seemed to infer to me that the audience would naturally think that the visiting speaker was an expensive item, or at any rate that I was going to receive part of the collection. I felt inclined to get up and explain that I do not believe in collections at all and that I am distinctly opposed to asking for money. But I remembered that it was not my meeting but the Centre's, and that they were entitled to conduct it in their own way. Incidentally, when I agreed to speak for them I made it a condition that I should pay my own expenses, and this of course was what I did.

The collection taken, the leader then asked me to speak. No, I replied, let somebody else speak first in order to give me time to become attuned to the Spirit. So George Corbey of Nottingham kindly came to the rescue. He told of a man who 'looked on the wine when it was red', whose clothes needed brushing, and who displayed all the usual signs of the drunkard.

One day George Corbett met this man in the train: he was neat, shaved and his clothes well brushed - obviously a man very much changed for the better. What was the reason? For answer, the man pulled one of my Science of Thought lessons from his pocket and said: 'This is what is changing my life'. George related this incident with his usual forthrightness and he was given a good hearing. After such a story I could hardly refuse to speak, but I was in no fit state to do so. I had not prepared anything, because I had expected the Spirit to speak through me -- and now the Spirit had apparently forsaken me...

What was I to do? I was out of touch with my audience, and they with me; I was in an agony for I thought of how this vast crowd before me had come from near and far in order to hear me speak, and here I was letting them down badly! For a few minutes they heard me in patient surprise, then began to fidget. However, I persevered doggedly but I felt neither Joy nor freedom. Speaking about God should be an uplifting and joyous experience, but I was in a state of separation and bordering on despair.

Then I was led to say: 'The day of intellectualism is ending; the day of intuition and inspiration is at hand.' At that moment something wonderful happened, and I entered into a state of perfect liberty! In a flash I was on top of things, completely at rest, and my audience in perfect sympathy. I felt lifted up and given a measure of Cosmic insight and was able to explain in the simplest language how it is possible to know the deepest things by a direct intuitive knowing. The Silence which suddenly descended upon the hall was intense, and one could have heard the proverbial pin drop. We were all caught up in the Spirit; we were all moved by the Spirit; we were in a state of heavenly peace and enjoyment.

Years afterwards, John Moreton told me his version of what happened. He was at the back of the hall where there was a large card with the word 'Personality' painted in large black letters. He described the failure of my address and the restlessness and disappointment of the people. 'But,' John Moreton continued, 'when you said: "the day of intellectualism is ending, the day of intuition and inspiration is at hand" a wind swept through the place, so strong indeed that it blew the large card with the word "Personality" painted on it, on to the floor. At that very moment the meeting became entirely changed'.

These incidents are not related as being in any way exceptional, for I realize that many may have had far more remarkable experiences. But I mention them because they proved to me that the Spirit works to-day as He did in New Testament times, for God does not change and has not changed; He is ever the same. It is through such experiences as this that have formed part of my spiritual training.

Through them God has taught me that it is only when we get to the end of 'self' that He can really use us; I have also learned that it is only through experience that we can reach that state of utter surrender. I have learned to depend more and still more upon the Spirit and less and still less upon my own understanding. But my attempts at public speaking were not the only experiences through which I was trained and disciplined. If we refuse to be disciplined, we do so at grave peril.

On the other hand, it is possible to go to the other extreme and invite more discipline than we have strength to bear. I knew a seeker once who was so anxious to attain that she prayed that she might pass through any suffering if only she might know God and enter into union with Him. The result was catastrophic, for she was hardly prepared what followed. She was, however, brought through finally - but I would not recommend anyone to follow her example. Rather would I counsel people to adopt a middle course (the middle path is ever the path of wisdom), by putting their unfoldment into Divine hands. If we allow God Who is Infinite Love and Infinite Wisdom to set the pace and bring everything to pass at the right time, we find plenty of experiences to test our strength, but they are not beyond our powers.