Quest for God

Introduction

How do you get to know God and develop a relationship with Him? He showed me how! “Come to the Cross,” He said, and as I look back on the spiritual battles fought to really arrive at that place, I am reminded of the wisdom of the writer of Hebrews, who wrote of the pursuit of “sanctification without which no-one will see the Lord.” (Heb. 12.14)

Yet I clung on to two things besides the Cross – theological education and church politics. My relationship with the church gave me years of anxious struggle. Before I was really free to follow the Lord, I had to change my ‘mind-set’ from seeing the church as ‘the Body of Christ’ to the realisation that the church was in fact just another imperfect and twisted human institution.

This took me eight more years of theological studies and immersion in church politics at the higher levels, before I was ready to walk in total obedience to Him. True ‘fear of the Lord” at last determined my path. It no longer mattered what I wanted, my brightest theological or psychological arguments were of no consequence: once I heard the Lord I was in fear and trembling and obedience was the only possible response. The two relevant texts for me were “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Prov. 9.10) and “….Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Cor. 1.24

I left Congregationalism and joined the Baptists. But my experience of water baptism was soon followed by a baptism in the Holy Spirit and other charismatic gifts, which inevitably meant the end of my days as a Baptist! I now knew that the doctrine of the mainline churches – that the charismatic gifts were no longer available to us today – was wrong. But I had also found that the gifts displayed in the Pentecostal churches usually left me with too much unease to be able to join them; so I was utterly ‘out on a limb’.

2.1

The continuing passion of my existence from this time on was to see Jesus again, to really know His voice, and to live in a way that was pleasing to Him. How to reach this place in my daily walk, this was my question, for I knew that I could not ask for help from Ministers who could not accept the reality of my original experience. This had to be my secret quest for the Presence of the Lord.

The ‘aloneness’ of my quest in the next couple of years was in a real sense made easier by my current domestic situation. I soon fell pregnant again and was in quite poor health for a year, so stayed quietly at home till I was blessed with another child. Then my husband’s job took us overseas for twelve months, and I was challenged with setting up house in the United States for that time. So I only had casual, fragmented contact with churches over those two years, with no real opportunity to unburden myself at depth with anyone.

But I had time to read and pray: and I gained more assurance that to really know the Lord’s Presence and to hear His voice must still be possible. For God does not change; He visited and directly spoke to Abraham and Moses and Elijah and Peter and Paul and countless others, all of them men like us, so I must continue to expect that He would visit me.

And at last, while we were still overseas, I began to feel His guidance. "Come to the Cross": He seemed to be saying, and here began my real spiritual labours I knew there was supposed to be something timeless, something still accessible, about the Cross: old hymns, especially, often spoke of what it meant to be 'near the Cross'. But what exactly was I supposed to do? I decided to kneel, close my eyes, and imagine, with my whole being, that I was with the women as they watched His crucifixion.

The immediate result of this spiritual exercise was surprising to me. I could not in fact truly imagine myself in that place! The best I could imagine, the most I could see in my mind's eye, were three crosses on a hill far away. Why could I get no closer than that? Then again came a sense of direction - only my sinfulness created this gulf between me and His nearer Presence.

I thought I had led a reasonably moral life, but I now knew that I needed to take to myself more seriously words of Jesus like "You have heard that the ancients were told 'You shall not commit murder' . . . . . but I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother shall be guilty before the court:" (Matt.5. 21-22) and "I say to you that every careless word that men shall speak, they shall render account for it in the day of judgment." (Matt.12. 36) and "everyone who looks on a woman to lust for her has committed adultery with her already in his heart." (Matt.5. 28). I began to understand that, before God, 'sin' is not just the bad things you occasionally say and do, but, much more alarmingly, all those private thoughts and feelings that you would be utterly ashamed of if they were ever revealed even to your best friends; in fact, all those thoughts and feelings which you really knew would never ever be in the mind of Christ.

I gradually confronted and gained freedom from what I now thought of as my 'secret sins', and I returned regularly to my contemplation of the Cross. And I registered a mystery. I realised that the distance between me and the three crosses on the hill was lessening, that as I walked 'cleaner', so I was finding myself nearer and nearer the Cross - till at last I knew that I had arrived. There was just one Cross, and I was there, as those women-of-old, at its very foot, and weeping.

And then a Hand was, as it were, on my shoulder! I was knowing His Presence again - and the place was the place of the Cross! He had once more revealed Himself. Not this time to the outward eye - that never happened again - but just as clearly and certainly to the inner eyes of my heart. I had found Him again; I was making contact with the Lord!

From that time on I was knowing His Presence, though briefly, almost daily. Briefly, because my life did not permit me any long stretches of solitude; almost daily, because there were still days when, with all the pressures of my over-busy existence, I was just not able to still my mind sufficiently to know Him there - He did not compete with the anxious rush of thoughts on work and studies and worldly cares and anxieties; He just did not reveal Himself unless my heart and mind were totally fixed on Him and His Cross, to the absolute exclusion of everything else.

After I had thus spent time in His Presence, and as I returned to my various chores, I began to know more surely the reality of His Holy Spirit - His comfort and strength and guidance - flowing into me. And as I continued to live this intensive spiritual life, I knew my whole being was changing. I was really walking in faith in my daily life; I was secure in God's love; I really trusted Him.

                                                 * * * * * * * * *

Back home again in Australia, it was time to reassess my life’s agenda. My children were still too young for me to feel comfortable about resuming my career in psychology, but I had time to study. I decided to enrol for a Divinity Degree. I had worked for a Masters Degree in psychology, it must be right to pour the same amount of intellectual study into theology. And of course I assumed that such studies would lead me into greater spiritual maturity.

My academic friends thought they could understand my decision to study theology – that was ‘respectable’. My church colleagues assumed that I was quietly planning to enter the Congregational ministry, and just would not listen to my denials that this was my conscious intention.

I enrolled in a Congregational College as an external student, studying part-time, and it took me five years to complete the degree with Honours. When I had completed my degree, the college through which I had worked approached me with the question of going on to ordination as a Congregational minister. I received the question seriously, but eventually I had to reply that I had undertaken the course for my own education - as I had informed them in the beginning - that I would certainly continue to serve in the church wherever the Lord led, but that He was not, at this stage, pointing me in the direction of the ordained ministry. The response of the college was to send me quite a large account covering five years of tuition fees! This, coming so unexpectedly, was quite a financial embarrassment for me, and I had to do battle with hard feelings against the college, because I knew that they did not regularly treat students in this heartless way. But I did the ‘right’ thing and paid up without any outward complaint.

What did I gain from this extended intellectual exercise? I gained a great deal of 'head knowledge' in the spheres of Old Testament history, church history, theology, and the like, and a working knowledge of the Biblical languages, Hebrew and Greek. And I gained, as a side-line, considerable respect from church colleagues as they began to realise that I was becoming more knowledgeable in these things of the Faith than most of the ordained ministers, who usually had quite ‘inferior’ Diploma level qualifications.

In fact my greatest long-term gain from my studies was the capacity to look at Scripture in its original languages. Not that I ever reached the fluency of setting aside my English Bible for my daily readings; but, like anyone who has done a couple of years of language study at university level, I had some competence in grammar, and knew how to use a lexicon effectively, and I found the words of Scripture opening up to me more clearly as I sourced the original text. Looking back, it was worth doing the Degree just for the language study it imposed on me.

For the rest of those studies, my thoughts as I look back over a span of over forty years are in total agreement with Paul as he writes “the wisdom of this world is foolishness before God . . .(1 Cor.3.19) and the Preacher of Ecclesiastes who warns “excessive devotion (to books) is wearying to the body”. (Eccl.12.12) There was so much questioning, debating, theorising, analysing, in every subject, and so much vaunting of man’s wisdom whenever it was thought that someone had proved something contrary to some portion of Scripture, that sometimes I felt like shouting to whomever might be around “a double minded man will receive nothing from the Lord” (ref. James 1.6-8) and quitting the course! But I stayed with it to completion, feeling that, though the study itself was not bringing me into the presence of the Lord, the Holy Spirit was surely giving me more understanding.

And through all this time I grew to be an active, reliable church worker, serving on an endless array of committees at the local, union, and international levels, and being freely available as a speaker and as a counsellor Surely, I reasoned, the Lord would have me work for His church in every way that I was able. His church was His Body.

And so in 1962, at the age of 36, and having completed my Bachelor of Divinity Degree, I was suitably rewarded for all my years of service to the church by being voted Chairman-Elect of the Congregational Union in my state for the following year, 1963-64. I must have been one of the youngest persons ever elected to this position; and I was the first female.

In those days there were still very few women in executive positions of any sort in the churches, and so the appointment made wide news headlines. "Woman To Lead Church” declared the morning paper, and there was a half-page article on my life and work, complete with a 'happy family' photograph! And throughout the year as Chairman my addresses to various secular organisations were quite likely to be deemed newsworthy, and my opinions on various topics-of-the-day sought out by eager journalists:
                                        "Religion, Mental Health Linked, Says Woman" 
                                        "Church Needs 'More Active' Lay Members"
                                        "Church Leader Calls for New Language", and so on.
And by the end of the year I was still rating double-column headlines:
                                        "Madam Chairman Ends Year in Church Office"!

At first the job was quite excitingly awesome. To make official visits to all the outlying churches through the state, to be state representative at interstate and at international church conferences, to be greeted as a V.I.P. in all religious and many secular gatherings - it was surely the stuff for pride to feed upon! But as the year wore on, I became more and more aware - to use a picture from the children's fairy tale - of the emperor's nakedness. The church - and because of my widening inter-denominational experiences I knew this to be a reference to many different churches, not just my own denomination - the church appeared to be a fine and sacred institution to the public eye - clothed in Christ - but it was really worldly, naked of true spiritual dress, and, even in its innermost courts, empty of the guiding Presence of the Lord.

On public occasions it appeared to be holy - a body of people set apart from the world, walking to a different goal, by a different Power, and for different reasons from the rest of the world: but behind closed doors, where committees haggled over long-term plans and short-term strategies, appointments and transfers, inter-denominational co-operation, and the various subjects dominated by the use of money, one became aware that these groups of Christians conducted their affairs not-a-wit differently from any run-of-the-mill board of directors. The Lord did not speak to guide decision-making, and any suggestion from the Chair that one might ask His help and guidance on any matter was met with amazed smiles of incredulity. These were not situations where one intoned the historically-set phrases of intercessory prayer; there was business to be done!

At one stage I considered resigning and walking away from all such Christianity. There was no single person in my Chairman's team with whom I could share spiritually. I had many opportunities to preach strong sermons - but I knew that nobody really listened; half a dozen people might respond, "Jolly good sermon, thank you” before they turned to their neighbour to discuss more important matters like the weather or next week's tea-party! But I did not resign. Though increasingly spiritually uncomfortable, I completed my year of office, passed the 'baton' to my successor in the traditional ceremony, then mercifully disappeared completely from the scene to spend another year with my husband in secular work overseas.

Eight years had now passed since I had seen the Lord. In that time I had given birth to two more children, and had begun to develop a comfortable Private practice as a psychotherapist. Within the church I had stolidly plodded on to complete my degree in Divinity, and had ‘slaved’ in all manner of committee-works until the highest honour – the Chairmanship – came to me. But none of these religious activities had helped to bring me any nearer to the Lord, or enabled me to share my own deep spiritual experiences with anyone. I was becoming very disillusioned with what I was beginning to call ‘churchianity’, and very thankful for my diversionary year overseas, during which I could again take stock of those years of study and works, and ask the Lord’s ongoing guidance, “What more can I do?”

2.2

In my time overseas after my year as Chairman, I found it was still quite easy to slip into a pew in the nearest church, make some new friends, and be fairly uncritical of the spiritual fare that was being offered. But I knew that when I eventually returned to my home church there would be major problems to be confronted. Could I possibly continue to sit and serve in the depths of the hypocrisy which had been revealed to me so clearly in that year as Chairman?

As Chairman I had found myself powerless to change anything: could I change anything now? Obviously not! Could I just sit and worship in the confines of the local church, remaining adamantly uninvolved in the denominational matters which had most disturbed me? No: because the local church was not an independent island; though it might not be so readily apparent, the hypocrisies of the whole denomination were still deeply there.

Could I just quit church altogether, and be a solitary Christian at home? But I was still convinced that the church, with all its problems, was yet the Body of Christ, and that long-term hermits were not a part of the Christian way. Paul tells us repeatedly that the church is the “ Body of Christ” (e.g.1 Cor.12.27 and Eph.1.23) and Scripture also tells us not to forsake “assembling together” (Heb.10.25) the concept of ‘fellowship’ as our assembling together in the church was deeply rooted in me. The twist that I believed was that I must be a church member, whereas what Scripture actually teaches is that our fellowship with others is subject to them also having fellowship with Jesus. (1Jn.1.3-7).

Could I transfer my loyalties to another denomination? The Methodists were the only group who came to mind, for I had taught part-time in their theological college, counselled some of their ministers, and in general felt that I was held in good repute among them. Also, they were just beginning to look at opening the ordained ministry to women. (Only Congregationalists in those days had female ministers, though some Methodist and Presbyterian churches had fully-employed Deaconesses, a few of who were practically doing a minister's job in country parishes.) But, in the end, the thought of becoming a Methodist just did not sit comfortably. I think that in my heart I knew that men who sought out the services of a psychologist to cope with their personal problems did not really know the Lord; yet I saw several of these men, even as they poured out to me the darkest secrets of their souls, rising, with public acclaim, to the highest offices of that denomination.

There was also a deeper long-term problem about becoming either a Methodist or a Presbyterian. I had for some time sat as a Congregational representative on a committee with members from each of these denominations, looking towards the possibility of uniting to become one big new church: the culmination of their planning was probably still a long way off - (in fact the Uniting Church became a legal reality about twelve years later in 1977) - but I had become more and more uncomfortable with the whole idea of the "Uniting" church, for I felt that it was not being born of God; rather that it was just man's answer to half-empty churches, budgetary problems, and an ongoing shortage of ministers.

It is true that in the early days of discussions the three churches – Presbyterians, Methodists, and Congregationalists – did strive mightily to agree upon doctrines of faith which might culminate in a new Confession “brief enough to be read publicly from time to time in the life of the Church”. (Quoted from “The faith of the Church”, a Report of the Joint Commission on Church Union, set up by the three churches in 1957) But the ensuing discussions produced such heated controversies that eventually the matter was apparently put into the ‘too hard’ file, for, instead, the new church was simply presented with the texts of existing Creeds, Confessions, Catechisms and Sermons, and her ministers and instructors –but not her ordinary laymen! – were committed to “study these statements”. (Para.10 of “the Basis of Union)

These early committees also toyed with the idea of introducing Bishops into the new church structure, but that thought was never developed, not because of any theological problems, but rather because it was recognised that they could produce no overwhelming argument likely to convince the majority of voters, who would see no gain from such a change.

As for the more directly material concerns – church property and church bank accounts – the original aim was to ‘rationalize’ the system completely, sell superfluous properties, and pool all monies for use where needed. I only know that in my home state the three denominational inner-city churches stood fully convinced from those earliest days that they would not commit themselves to any such follies – two had considerable wealth, and the third had great pride! – and to this day they stand separate and intact as three city Uniting Churches!

Besides all this was the debate on the structure of the governance of the new church. It finished up with – in descending order of power and importance – an Assembly, a Synod, a Presbytery, and an Elders Meeting, and, lowest of all, a Congregation! Any semblance of Congregationalism, with the local congregation owning its own church, calling its own Minister, dealing with its own finances, being alone responsible to God for its life or lack of it – all this would be lost forever. What would we gain by walking into this crazy union?

It was the totality of my experiences at that early committee level, the utterly cold lovelessness of the debates, the hypocrisies of the compromise recommendations and decisions, that made me know that I could never see myself as a member of this yet-to-be-born Uniting Church.

So when I returned home with all these ponderings but without any clear guidance, I went right back to the small Congregational church I had left a year before. I found that a new minister had been called to the pulpit there, a young cleric with a heavy brow and a heavier heart! Whatever the title of his weekly sermon, the general direction of his message seemed always the same - the church was dying, and it was our duty to sit in the pews, support our Minister, and die with it. (This young man eventually tired of his own message, retired from the Christian ministry, and took up a secular job. The church he left behind did in fact die just a few years later, and subsequently the building housed an up-market ceramic retailer for some years, before being acquired by a group of secular Marriage Celebrants, for use with clients who were prepared to pay for a romantic old-fashioned 'church' wedding without the interference of 'religion' into their celebration!)

I knew that if I sat under this man's ministry my soul would be bone-dry in weeks, so the need for action suddenly became urgent; but what could I do? For the first time for a long while I came into the Presence of the Lord with a practical problem to which I could find no answer. "Lord, where do I worship You on Sundays? In what church can I serve?" But I heard no response, so I felt my only option was to actually test out various local churches, until He let me know in some sure way which one I should join up with.

It was a much more limited plan than might seem, for I had already rejected Presbyterians and Methodists, as they would take me back into the same 'pool' when they and the Congregationalists eventually united. Also, it never occurred to me at all that God might include the Episcopal churches - Roman Catholic and Anglican - within His scheme for me! It was not that I had any strong problems with the idea of Bishops as overseers of the flock; rather, in my occasional visits to Episcopal churches, it was their over-ritualised style of worship which made me feel uncomfortable. Why have a 'fancy dress parade' of clergy and choir at the beginning of a Service? Why intone, "Lord have mercy upon us" repetitively, week after week, as if we had not yet received mercy? Why stand in a body of people reciting a Creed with as much heart-felt enthusiasm as you once recited the ten-times table in school? Was our God the sort of God who really enjoyed such monotonous hypocrisies? I thought not. I felt Jesus' words to the Pharisees applied: - Quoting Isaiah, Jesus had said to them:
                                          "This people honours Me with their lips,
                                          "But their heart is far away from Me.
                                          "But in vain do they worship Me,
                                          "Teaching as Doctrines the Precepts of Men."
                                                                               (Mk. 7.6-7)

The other aspect of the Episcopal churches that worried me was their system of church government. Why should I sit under a dictatorship of priests, bishops, archbishops and popes? The Bible tells me " . . .you have no need for anyone to teach you; . . . His anointing teaches you about all things . . . "(1 Jn.2.27) I felt that the Congregational system of church government - which was also the system of the Churches of Christ and the Baptists - was democratic, and most like the New Testament pattern. (I had yet to learn what a theocratic government might mean!) I also knew I should exclude from my list of possibilities all churches which denied the concept of the Trinity, thus demoting Jesus to some inferior status - the Christadelphians are an example of these; and also all churches which denied the necessity of the Sacraments of Baptism and Communion - hence I did not look into the Salvation Army.

All this meant that I was really left to investigate just two churches - the Churches of Christ and the Baptists - neither of which appealed to me because of their narrow stance on Believer's Baptism by total immersion. Strangely enough, I did not understand then that in both of these denominations the rites of Baptism and Communion were considered to be only Ordinances (i.e. simply symbolic acts commanded by Christ, and not conveying any direct spiritual blessings) rather than Sacraments (i.e. actually efficacious in conveying a spiritual blessing or grace). If I had known that, I would probably have dissolved into utter confusion!

But as it was, and still with no clear guidance from the Lord, I swallowed my pride, and made an appointment to talk with a Church of Christ minister whom I knew slightly. He was delighted at the prospect of welcoming such an eminent convert, and promptly began talking about a big public baptism as a witness to many people. And the longer he talked the more sick-in-the-stomach I felt: I did not think it likely that God would be putting me through all this; my peace was gone, and I murmured that I would need to go away and pray about it all, and made my departure.

That left only the local Baptist church to try! Was I just on a stupid wild-goose chase? There were no other options, so the next Sunday found me in the back pew of the local Baptist church where, I was surprised later to discover, no one at all knew me or had even heard of me! I did not know the Minister's name; but he preached a sincere and Bible-based sermon, and was prepared to take time to talk to an unknown visitor after the Service. And actually, before the Service was over, I had an inner conviction that this was the church where the Lord wanted me to be.

So I spoke with the Minister at some length, feeling it was important that he should have some understanding of the reasons for my departure from Congregationalism, and of my anguished search for a new church home. I also felt it right to tell him that, in spite of my feeling that the Lord seemed to be confirming that this should be my new church home, I would have tremendous problems in submitting to Believer's Baptism, as I could so well remember my own 'sprinkling' as the beginning of my Christian life. "No problem at all," he replied, and went on to explain that I had come to an 'open' Baptist church, one of only two in the metropolitan area, where their Constitution allowed them to receive into full membership, without further baptism, bona fide Christians transferring from other denominations. It would be a simple matter of conferring the 'right hand of fellowship' at the next monthly communion Service, he said. And so I decided to become a Baptist!

The most terrifying aspect of this change of denominations was something I myself can barely understand today. I resigned my Congregational membership at a mid-week meeting, a Wednesday evening. I would be received as a Baptist on the following Sunday morning. This meant that I spent four nights and three days not belonging to any church group; not being part of the Body of Christ! If I died during that time, what would happen to me? If I arrived at the 'pearly gates' without any church membership credentials, what would be my fate in eternity? It is cause for only a weak laugh now, but then it was cause for quite deep fear and trembling, so deep was my concept of “church” as the “Body of Christ”.

But Sunday came, and, with the simplest of rituals, I became a member of a Baptist church.

                                            * * * * * * * * *
But, far from being welcomed as one-of-the-family, those in 'high places' in the church hierarchy seemed very suspicious that I had a secret agenda to bring feminist theology into their midst. Several men took opportunity to make sure that I understood that Baptists did not accept women preachers. Those in 'lower places' seemed uneasy because I had not submitted to baptism by immersion. Although their Constitution permitted it, it was apparently a very rare phenomenon to actually have an unbaptised member, and they had their ways of letting me know it!

I think that if I had been trying to make new friends to socialise in any way, I would soon have been made to feel something of a pariah; I felt that nobody wanted to get to know me. But I knew that God had put me there, and that was enough. I was quite happy just to sit in a back pew, join in the singing of strong old-fashioned hymns, and listen to solid Bible-based preaching.

I have no idea how the Congregationalists reacted to my exit from the church. I received no visits, no phone calls, no feed-back whatsoever. This may have been partly because I had been overseas for more than a year and since my return had not been involved beyond my local congregation. At first the local press had a field-day, when they discovered that the first female Chairman of the Congregational Union of Churches in the West had deserted Congregationalism. "Mrs. Enid Cook Joins Baptists", ran the headlines over four columns in the week-end newspaper. I was never interviewed by the press, and I do not know whether Congregationalists or Baptists provided that information, but since the media had nothing further of news for it to feed on, that then was the end of the press publicity.

Not the end of my public face though, in the wider religious sphere. During my most recent sojourn overseas, at the end of my Chairman's year, I had held a Post-Doctoral Fellowship at an American university, working with a team researching in the field of "psychology and religion". During that time I had also featured regularly in a religious-psychological 'Talk-Back' series on American television. When I returned home my experience in these two areas was quickly seized upon.

I was invited by the local university to conduct a course in Pastoral Counselling for the clergy. I was also invited by a fledgling commercial television station to be a regular member of a cross-denominational religious discussion group, which took to the screen every Sunday at lunch-time. Here I sat between a Roman Catholic priest and an Anglican priest, making wise comments on whatever range of vaguely religious topics the viewing public presented to us, and presumably representing in my one body both Non-conformists and the laity and also the voice of the female!

The teaching work at the university and the regular weekly television show fully occupied my spare time, and my Private Practice as a Psychotherapist was still my professional priority, so the absence of any church committee work and church-related speaking engagements was no problem at all.

                                                      * * * * * * * * * *

However, after about a year of sitting quietly in the Baptist church, I became aware of the Lord's 'nudging' me again. I was becoming uneasy on the subject of Believer's Baptism! This was the point at which I began to know anew the difference between - the potential conflict between - mind and spirit. In my mind the logical assessment of my situation was flawless. I could clearly remember my childhood Christening, and knew it to be the beginning of my Christian walk, from which I had never seriously strayed. I knew from my church history studies that in the earlier days Baptists had frequently only sprinkled or poured water over the head - that their emphasis was on the believer's versus infant baptism, rather than on the theological significance of complete immersion. And the Lord had led me to a church where, with my background of church membership, re-baptism was just not an issue. They had accepted me as a full member.

Logically there was no sign of a problem; but in my spirit there was now no lasting satisfaction with this very logical analysis; just an ongoing uneasiness on the matter. So, still with my best logic, I decided that there must be something more to the whole subject of baptism that I was not understanding; so I moved into 'research mode'! I studied all references to baptism in the New Testament Greek; I investigated the use of baptismal rites by Jewish sects about the time of Jesus; I searched for anything in the Old Testament which might remotely give a clue to the whole dilemma. I meekly went to the Baptist Theological College library, and borrowed their most scholarly books on the topic, and even shared my problems with the Principal of that institution. All to no avail! No author, no minister, could fault my logical analysis to my satisfaction, or offer any solid theological argument for me to now undergo a baptism by immersion.

Yet, in spite of all this, I knew that the Lord, through the depths of my spirit, was saying, "Get yourself baptized". Eventually I could bear it all no longer. I surrendered. I went to my Minister and tearfully explained that although I could discover no logical or theological reason for me to do so, yet I felt that I must submit myself for a new baptism. And so it was done!

And as I plunged into the living waters of God, my spirit burst its bonds within me and I moved into a new depth of faith. "Death with Christ!", I knew, "Let me stay here forever!"

Afterwards the Minister commented that he had never before found it so hard to pull someone up out of the water! But I did not share the total depth of my experience, as I knew in my heart that he would not understand it. To him baptism was an Ordinance; he was just doing his job as a minister; and my emotion would have been seen by him as simply my pleasure at having obeyed God’s command at last, and become a real Baptist. If I had tried to tell him anything of what I had experienced in the water, he would have looked at me in much the same way as my Congregational minister, John, had looked at me when I told him about my dream of heaven and my vision of the Lord. He too would have been concerned about my mental health!

However, just as it had been in Congregationalism, while I continued in my very secret walk with the Lord, I also still believed that the church was “the Body of Christ” to be served in whatever ways I was able. So when my fellow church members rejoiced with me in my baptism, stopped treating me as a pariah, and began inviting me to become a useful church member at last, I was delighted. I was soon taking a seat on committees, and even pressed into accepting a part-time teaching role at the nearest Baptist Theological College. I was invited to teach young men who would become preachers of the Gospel; - but I could never stand in a pulpit myself and preach the Gospel: as it had been explained to me, that was only for men!

2.3

I had laboured in vain to understand in my mind why I should be baptised again; yet the ‘voice’ of the Lord – the pressure within my heart – had been so intense over such a long period of time that eventually I had no options, I had to obey. And in that obedience I had experienced a further depth of glory. And as a result I was beginning to understand something more of what it might mean to have the “mind of Christ’. (1 Cor.2.16) I could more surely recognise His voice in my heart, and distinguish it from the random thoughts of my mind, and all the other ‘voices’ which can impinge upon one’s consciousness especially at times of indecision.

But also, as I got more and more involved in the life of the church I began to realise that, in the actual outworking of their faith, these Baptists were not much different from the Congregationalists I had left behind. They were baptised; they went to church twice on Sundays and sang lustily; they went to mid-week meetings and prayed equally lustily; and that was it! Their hearts and minds were satisfied. They knew that they were ‘saved’, yet in the actual outworking of their faith they revealed no guidance of the Holy Spirit, of the overflowing love of the Lord, or of the yearning to do His Will. In fact, Jesus' comments concerning the Pharisees seemed to apply: " . . . .they say things, and do not do them". (Matt. 23.3)

I was bursting with enthusiasm to DO - not just what the church was asking of me, but, much more importantly, what the Lord would have me do to grow more in Him. I was on a spiritual journey which must not stop. "What next Lord?" I was asking Him. After some time of expectant waiting - was it weeks or months, I no longer remember - I knew the Lord saying to me "Ask Me for the gift of Tongues". I knew it was God, yet my response was astonishment, dismay, incredulity. How could He ask this of me? And why? My mind was in ‘warfare’ mode!

This was in the late 1960s, before the widespread revival of ‘tongues-speaking’ in some of the major denominations; before the stage when Pentecostal churches became relatively respectable.

I knew Tongues to be simply an historical phenomenon which occurred at the birth of the church, and believed that it had never been evidenced in the church since those formative days recorded in the New Testament; this is what I had been taught. I knew of Pentecostalists only as a relatively uneducated group of fanatics who were not known to exercise any of the more useful gifts of the Spirit. And I had a strong suspicion that the wards of mental hospitals contained more than their fair quota of Christians calling themselves Pentecostalists. I had certainly never been to a Pentecostal meeting, and had no intention of doing so now! Why would God want me to 'speak in tongues'? What possible use was it? And the Lord God gave no answers to these ponderings; just a repeat "Ask Me for the gift of Tongues".

The battle to obey went on for weeks! In facing Baptism there had been books to read and ministers to talk to; this time there seemed no help at hand. Strangely enough, I had no feeling that God wanted me to talk with Pentecostal Pastors or investigate Pentecostal worship at this stage; for this I was grateful! And it was all happening a couple of years before the "Charismatic Renewal" hit the main-line churches, so that vast array of books on Tongues and Spiritual Gifts had not yet arrived on our book-shelves. Nothing to read on the subject except a few chapters in the New Testament - a prophetic word in Mark 16.17; some historical reports in Acts, Chapters 2,10, and 19; and a more detailed dissertation from Paul in 1 Corinthians, chapters 12 through 14 - no-one to talk to except the Lord Himself; and from Him just the same command "Ask Me for the gift of Tongues"!

I exercised my mind on the matter in every way I knew, but through it all I was aware that, as with my Baptismal conflict, 'mind' and 'spirit' were at war with one another; and eventually 'mind' had to surrender! So at last I came to that point of exhaustion where there was nothing left to do but say to the Lord from the depths of my heart "I don't know, Lord, what can be the use of it, but I have to trust You totally, so I ask You for the gift of Tongues".

And there was silence from heaven!

And a different sort of quiet panic in me! Perhaps the whole thing had been my imagination run wild! No-one to talk to; no-one would understand. Was I getting into 'nervous breakdown' zone? Was I a candidate for religious mania? And so on. Yet all this struggle was so deeply spiritual and secret that I was able to continue my heavy daily routines without any sign of it 'leaking through'. But I had to come back and back to the issue - Tongues - for in avoiding it I knew I was also losing my closeness to God. So I asked Him again, in the same sort of words as on the previous occasion, to give me this 'gift' if it pleased Him - and again there was silence from heaven!

I was beginning to feel really desperate. Only one thing more I decided I could do. I actually phoned a Pentecostal minister, keeping my anonymity, and talked to him about my situation. "No problems" he responded, "Come on over and I'll pray for you". Yet in my spirit I withdrew. I thanked him, and said maybe I would phone again later. But in my heart I felt that the phone-call had been wrong. God did not need a Pentecostal minister to help me receive His gift.

But I was sinking into a frantic despair. That night I threw myself at the Lord's feet, sobbing "Lord, I can't go on like this any longer. Please give me Tongues, Lord, or take my life if that's a better way!" And I waited for an angelic sword thrust, or a voice like thunder - but, yet again, just silence from heaven! I could do nothing more: I crawled into bed and fell into a troubled sleep.

About an hour before dawn I was suddenly awake, and aware of what seemed like a beautiful spiritual butterfly wafting over my head: and within me was a sudden surge of strength and purpose. Absolutely no time to ask any questions about the meaning of the situation; just a knowing that I had one chance only to snatch that butterfly before it disappeared forever! And in my spirit I leapt towards the prize. And the heavens opened, and down upon me poured water - living water - and fountains sprang up all around me - fountains of living water - and there I was, in the midst of it all, in ecstasy once more, and praising God for His glorious love - praising God in Tongues!

The reader is entitled to feel incredulous. Here was a worldly-successful psychologist, lying on her bed, clasping a spiritual butterfly, surrounded by spiritual fountains of living water, and listening to herself praising God in a language not her own! In the midst of it I slipped out of bed and knelt on the floor, Tongues still pouring from my mouth; and my mind, just beginning to register what was happening, declaring with great assurance "Life in Christ: may I live it forever!"

Even as Tongues of praise kept pouring forth, my mind was beginning to function; it was dawn, the children would soon be waking up. (Interestingly, my husband happened to be away from home for the whole of that week, which gave me evenings of aloneness to cope with what was happening to me.) Could I - should I - attempt to 'turn off' these wonderful Tongues of Praise? And if I did would they ever return? I resolutely closed my mouth - they stopped; I looked to the Lord with wonderment, and opened my mouth again - they were there! I did my motherly chores - got the children off to school - down on my knees; Tongues were there. Saw my quota of patients; lunch-time; down on my knees - Tongues were there. Day's work completed, home to the children; motherly chores till children's bedtime; down on my knees again - NO TONGUES! Devastation! What had happened? No hint of the precious gift! Into bed weeping: troubled sleep. The dawn of another day - Tongues of praise were there again! Rejoicing! And so the days went by.

It seems impossible to offer a psychological explanation of what happens to a mind when such a spiritual-mental-physical experience occurs. We think that we now understand much about the relationship between mind and body; for example, how emotional crises exacerbate physical illness; how severe physical illness disturbs the mental and emotional response of the psyche. But we still have no real understanding of what happens when the spiritual overwhelms the psychological and physical aspects of being, as in an experience like this. So far has the modern church become conformed to the secular world that, as with my experience of the Lord at the death of my son, as with my experience in baptism, so now in this latest experience I knew that both clergy and psychiatrist would shake their heads in grave concern about my mental stability.

It was some months before I knew the confidence of Tongues being there all the time: I had to discover that on 'days off' - days when I was alone, gardening or sewing or just resting - I could continually be aware of the Presence of the Lord, and my Tongues were less likely to disappear: but that they consistently went 'missing' when I got deeply immersed in my professional world, losing awareness of the Presence of the Lord. And so, inevitably, to know His Presence became much more important than to advance my career.

I soon knew that my Tongues were mostly praise. When you are joyously aware of God's love pouring down on you, what is there left to say in English after "Hallelujah" (itself a Hebraism) or "Praise the Lord"? In Tongues there is a whole language of joyous response. I also became aware that when a praise in Tongues was able to follow a prayer of supplication, it seemed that the Lord had specially heard that supplication and was answering it - as if the outpoured Tongues itself was the Holy Spirit's affirmation of the validity of the supplication.

I learned too that Tongues is not a vehicle for the confession of sins! Whenever I found myself out of relationship with the Lord, I always had to 'have it out' before Him in the straight vernacular before Tongues were available again. Christians talk a lot about 'walking in the Spirit': I found that this 'gift of tongues' is a valuable indicator of whether you are really 'walking' as you declare that you are!

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At the time that I was living through this 'battle of the Tongues' I was not only running my Private Practice as a psychotherapist, but also teaching part-time at the Baptist Theological College, and running a practical course in Pastoral Counselling through the local university, my students being ordained men from eight different Christian denominations. I was unconcerned about my Practice, but for my students, both at the university and at the Theological College, I had concern, for I felt that they would be aware of the spiritual change in me, and be entitled to ask questions. I was especially aware that Baptists, at this time, spoke strongly against the 'spiritual gifts', claiming that they had ceased once the New Testament canon was determined: and that therefore, necessarily, any ‘tongues’ of today could not be viewed as coming from God, but must rather be from the power of some other unholy spirit. I felt I had no right to hide from my Minister or the Principal of the Theological College that I now knew that these 'gifts' were in fact still available today.

For my Pastoral Counselling men I chose a time to announce to them briefly and matter-of-factly that I had received from God the 'gift of Tongues'; that if this was so theologically offensive to anyone that they wished to withdraw from the course they could do so; that if anyone wanted to ask me questions and explore the topic further, I would happily make some other time available to talk with them. Nobody quit the course; about half of the men wanted to hear more about my experience, and I set aside a couple of hours at their convenience, answering as deeply as I could all their queries. After that it was business as usual! The topic was never raised again, and, to the best of my knowledge, none of these men ever pursued for themselves any of the gifts of the Spirit.

I was much more nervous in my approach to the Baptist Theological College. I made an appointment with the Principal, told him of the spiritual depths of my baptism - which event he had witnessed - and how the Lord had similarly pressed me to ask for the gift of Tongues: I told him that I understood that I was now outside the tenets of Baptist theology, and was therefore willing to resign immediately from my lecturing post if he wished it. He listened intently and asked many questions, most specifically whether I had been influenced by Pentecostal teachings in seeking the 'gift', and whether I expected it to impinge in any way upon the subjects I was currently teaching. To both these questions I could answer "No". So he pressed me for a guarantee that I would not raise the topic of 'spiritual gifts' with the students, inside or outside the classroom - and then it was business-as-usual there too!

But not for long! I kept my word and spoke to no-one else except my Minister about my spiritual experiences; but my Minister (not the man who had baptised me) proved to be quite intensely opposed to the concept that 'spiritual gifts' of any sort were still available today, and he determined to wage war! He devoted a series of mid-week Bible studies to a study of 'spiritual gifts', and by the clever manipulation of texts-out-of-context, a peek into church history, anthropology and witch-craft, and a survey of the experience of other respectable main-line churches, he victoriously concluded that God had not given 'spiritual gifts' of any sort since the days of Paul as recorded in Scripture, and that therefore any claims of the existence of any of these 'gifts' in the churches today must, without any question or doubt, be the direct work of Satan. Since I had promised not to talk about my experience, but also because the psychologist in me was aware of the emotional 'tinder-box' through which he spoke, I did nothing but sit and listen.

Of course, the venom spread. My Minister was a member of the College Board, and it became obvious that the College Board was discussing the significance of my spiritual state, and that the whole matter was becoming known and discussed at various levels in the Baptist Union hierarchy. The end result was that, just before the beginning of the next academic year, I was told that my services were no longer required.

This was not just a matter of losing a part-time job - for which I was receiving no salary anyway; this was a judgment by the Baptist hierarchy that my 'spiritual walk' was no longer acceptable to them, and that I was no longer to be trusted. This judgment quite quickly filtered through to all levels of church life, so that I began to feel that I was regarded as a leper, even in my own home church. I was no longer nominated for committee work, no longer asked to do any pastoral counselling, no longer invited to address women's groups; and, by many, no longer even greeted on Sundays.

And I knew in my heart that the situation must inevitably get worse, not better, for I was still pressing on to walk more deeply, more continuously, with the Lord, and I was beginning to realise that all those other 'spiritual gifts' listed in 1 Corinthians chapter 12 were still available today, and that these Holy Spirit manifestations must continue to grow in me.