I suffered a more serious trauma, however, shortly after arriving in Washington, when I committed what I thought was the unpardonable sin and found myself separated from God. During the eight years before I finally escaped the darkness and despair, I learned by personal experience something of what Martin Luther went through in his struggle to find peace and assurance, which can only come through faith in His acceptance.

We were living and working in a hop camp to secure funds while seeking to establish ourselves in our new location. For the first time in my life I was surrounded with drinking and smoking, both of which I detested. With absolutely no interest in or intention to smoke, I some how felt a strong compulsion to experiment. How long the battle raged, I have no idea. But I clearly knew the voice of the Holy Spirit Who kept urging me not to. But another voice seemed to say, “Its OK. You don’t plan to smoke, but just find out what it is about. Besides, all you have to do is confess and you will be forgiven.”

I finally made my choice, but the Spirit continued to urge me not to, as it was some time before I could put the plan in action. For I had to wait till none of my many siblings was around so I could safely secure the forbidden matches without being seen. But, determined to go through with it, I found the largest cigarette butt I could find and locked myself in an out house. I have no memory of smoking, but probably took only one puff when, to my horror, the voice that had been so soothing and assuring suddenly roared like a lion: “You are lost. You can never be saved. You deliberately sinned against the Holy Spirit. You can never be forgiven because you planned your confession. What good is it to make a confession planned in advance?”

For the rest of that day, whatever I did I silently begged God to forgive me, but could not shake the voice declaring my hopelessness. For days I confessed over and over with no sense of relief. I recall no sense of guilt before. But that day I entered a state of chronic guilt, no matter what I did. Not even when I refused to yield to temptation there was no sense of freedom. I was guilty 24/7.

I tried desperately to be “good” and to prove myself to God so He would accept me. I knew He forgives, but could not believe I had any right to be forgiven. My parents could not help me, but they knew nothing about it. For I would never think of causing them grief by telling them, So I remained in my self-imposed prison, watched over by the law, working through my conscience, as the Spirit sought to protect me from damage and lead me to Christ (Gal 3:23-25).

In this state of darkness I was sometimes so desperate as to hit myself in the head with my fist so hard as to stun myself, or beat my head against a plaster wall till the stars came out. But nothing brought relief.

That from my earliest memory I knew I was called to be a minister only intensified my darkness. For if I could not be saved, I knew I could not be a minister. Knowing I could not be satisfied doing anything else, I was left without earthly satisfaction or peace and no eternal hope.

No one could have guessed what was happening. As “the life of the party,” I was always going full steam ahead. Driven to keep active, I fortunately became a hard worker, working long hours. If not working or reading a novel (which habit I tried in vain to quit), I was always wrestling or playing football, etc. I had no choice but to keep constantly occupied.

Yet, though I never had relief from guilt, the Holy Spirit continued to give me some hope. But, controlled by my own impulses, the more I tried to prove myself by being good the more hopeless I seemed to be.

I finally came to what I considered the point of no return. Seeing myself at a fork in the road from which, if I took the wrong turn, I could never return, I begged God to show me what to do. Speaking to me as clearly as He did at seven, He told me to spend one hour every morning and one hour every evening in study and prayer. With complete responsibility for a small dairy, I already had to get up at 3:45 to be in the barn by 4:00 AM, And as soon as I got back from school I would run to get my milking started and chores done by 7:30 PM.

Willing to do anything I was called to do, I immediately re-set my alarm to 2:45 and chose to use The Desire of Ages and Messages to Young People, which the pastor had just been given me, as the basis for my study. But on finishing the first chapter I was greatly troubled. I knew an internal change must take place and I had no sense that anything had changed. So I asked God what to do. The answer was clear: go back to the first page. Half way through again, I stopped in despair. Again I begged God to show me what to do. And He said, “Go back to the first paragraph and don’t leave it till you get something from it.” As a novel reader, I had become a speed reader. I understood what I read, but knew a change must take place within me, a change I knew not what. But my need was a personal faith I had never dared to exercise since the tempter convinced me that I had committed the unpardonable sin.

Unable to speed read in a paragraph, as I prayed over each clause I suddenly found myself in a communion with God such as I had not even dreamed. Despite physical exhaustion from limited sleep and intense work, time fairly flew as I communed with God. I was so thrilled with my release from the prison of guilt that I often felt compelled to sing praise to Him in the middle of the night, in the old horse barn hay loft where I slept.

Temptations I had found so hard to resist vanished. I had no desire for novels; for I now had that for which I vainly sought in novels. For a time I was on the mountain top with Christ. But He was too wise to allow me to remain there too long. For to develop my faith, I had to move back and forth from the bright sunshine of the mountain to the darkness of the valley, where I was forced to exercise faith in a way not required in the sunlight.

Often in the next few years as I failed to live up to principles to which I was committed I felt I must be only a hypocrite. But in this very important training period I began to understand that the only righteousness I ever could claim was the righteousness of Christ, a lesson I would have to re-learn again and again. For my instinct to try to prove myself to God kept driving me to the despair I for so long knew.

Part of my problem was a false perception of my father. He was so consistent in his life that it seemed he had reached a wide mountain plateau and was just naturally good. I kept trying to reach that plateau only to find myself sinking into the precipice of self-centeredness. My most important lesson during that time was to claim God’s promises. I had been making my promises to God, which I could not keep, rather than claiming His promises to me, which He never fails to keep. The most important promise I claimed was 1 Cor. 10:13, which I almost wore out, as I took each clause separately, pondering and claiming it:

There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.

He thus drew me into a covenant relation with Himself in which I placed responsibility for my salvation in His hands. That was not easy, for I greatly feared falling away and my instinct was to do what I had habitually done, try and fail. But, claiming His responsibility, I asked Him to do whatever he saw fit to keep me from falling. What a great relief that was. I have renewed that covenant countless times since. It is my only hope; for in my own nature I am still weak. It is only in His presence and by His faithfulness to me that I can remain faithful to Him.

This was a part of my theological training that has proved so important to my ministry. Under the heading: “My Theological Training,” I share the intense conflict I experienced right after marrying, while we spent a three month honeymoon on the Bald Mountain Idaho lookout.