The pilot flame

Foreword

The ladies of the community decreed a baby show to provide the funds for a children's playground. Where a beautiful child is esteemed a more desirable possession than an automobile, such an effort meets with success. The parsonage had an exhibit for this show, our dolly girl, Virginia, life's most entrancing plaything. Her mother would have liked to display her exhibit, but it happened on that day that "Mrs. Rumsey Jenness" must take a train to keep the date of a temperance lecture. The mother arrayed her dolly with tender glee, and then, with last regretful looks, the temperance lecturer departed to meet the stern obligations of the public life. It fell to my lot to hold the exhibit, number eighty-seven, in the Two Year Olds. More delightful than a blossom fete, were the flower beds of babies, filling large school rooms. The crowd flowed by, making comments, which I enjoyed because eighty-seven was a good exhibit. The impartial judges brought from distant cities passed unknown in the procession. When the crowd became so dense that I was afraid the heat might wilt my exhibit, I retired with her to the cool fringe of folks on the lawn. In placid satisfaction I was chatting with friends about the ac-

FOREWORD

complishment of the playground funds. From the steps, far down in front, a voice called, "Where is eighty-seven? Who was eighty-seven? Eighty-seven is awarded first prize in the Two Year Old Section." As I went through the crowd carrying my exhibit to receive the prize, I felt that it was wrong that "Rumsey Jenness" was not there too, for the exhibit was certainly more her achievement than mine.

I am now called upon to hold another exhibit which is our joint achievement, our book, "Th£ Pilot Flame." It has come out of our yokefellow life ; we have clothed it with our toil ; we have sat up with it nights ; and we have enj oyed it when it was good. I wonder, is "The Pilot Flame" as good an exhibit as Virginia? Shall I enjoy holding it so much as I did eighty-seven?

TITLES OF CHAPTERS

PAGE

I The Child Who Conforms . .16

II The Child Who Varies . . . 54*

III Illumination 96

IV The Perception of the Presence

of God 1ST

V The Lettered and the Learned . 157

VI The Turbulent Bar . . . .192

VII Dark Till Jesus Comes .... 221

VIII Made-Over Garments .... 251

In the regions where natural gas is abundant, most families have in the cellars of their houses an apparatus through which flowing hot water is delivered where it is needed throughout the living rooms. This hot water is not heated in a tank, whose capacity may be exhausted when on one evening the whole family is minded to keep the ceremony of bathing. The water is heated as it flows, and he who comes last in his use of it gets the hottest. The secret of this mysterious and continuous flow of hot water is the pilot flame, a tiny gas jet in the secret place of the heater, burning in the midst of a circle of powerful gas burners which are set under the coil of water pipes. The pilot flame itself might heat a cupful of water in an hour. Ordinarily it burns with a one candle power, but it is able to flash into a flame having the heating power of hundreds of candles. When the water faucets are opened in the rooms above, the rushing stream automatically lets loose a flood of gas which streams out through the circle of powerful burners and is ignited by the pilot flame. The fervid flame roaring around the coiled water pipe heats the water as it flows, so that there issues from the faucets steaming water. The flow will continue as long as the channel is open. When the faucet is closed and the flowing of the water stops, the supply of gas is cut off, the fervent blaze diminishes to the little pilot flame, and the water in the coiled pipes becomes motionless and cold. But the pilot flame burns on, faithful and expectant; and so long as it burns, the slightest movement of the water will transform the cold inert fluid into a warm, living flood.

If the pilot flame has never been lighted, if a strong wind has blown it out, or if the pinhole through which the gas flows to sustain the flame be stopped with rust, then the water which was needed hot, flows out cold. So little gas flows through the pilot flame hole, that if it be not burned, it mingles with the air, and is only faintly perceptible. But if the water is caused to flow when the pilot flame is not lighted, the volume of gas liberated by its flow, but not consumed, fills the cellar and becomes an agent of terrible and deadly power. Some accidental contact with a flame may cause it to rend the house above.

Every normal individual has in the uncomprehended depths of his personality, an apparatus through which the power of God may be. applied to all his flowing activities, so that each activity may be dispatched in the warmth of courage and hope. This apparatus is not readily inspected, because it works in the dim and unexplored portions of his nature. It is not necessary to keep it under constant inspection, any more than it is necessary for the family to live in the cellar. Whether or not it is fulfilling its function is determined not by an inspection of the apparatus, but by the presence or absence of courage and hope in the flowing activities. It is not necessary for every man to inquire into the origin of this apparatus ; he may accept on large testimony the fact that it is there. It is necessary for every man to take heed that the apparatus is in order, that the pilot flame is lighted and faithfully burning. It is necessary to heed the caution that the winds of greed do not blow the flame out, nor the rust of riches fill the burner through which the power of God has access into the soul of man. He in whom this apparatus is working will find that the power of God is not stored in a little tank-like section of his activities ; nor need it be saved to i>e used sparingly in desperate emergencies of sorrow; automatically it flows with the dispatching of his normal activities.

That it may be present as the genial warmth of courage and hope expressed in all the rooms of living, it is needful that the pilot flame of the recognition of God be burning. If the pilot flame of the recognition of God has never been lighted ; if the strong winds of greed and bitterness have blown it out ; if the rust of riches has filled up the small access which the power of God has into the personality of the normal man, then all the activities of life are dispatched cold. They may rush forth under the pressure of energy and ability;

nevertheless, they are cold. Faith, burning like a pilot flame, can ignite the outrushing power which accompanies activities, and can turn that power into the genial warmth of courage and hope.

It may even happen that should there be great need of activities being dispatched in the warmth of courage and hope and they be forced out without this warmth, there may accumulate in the cellar of personality a deadly depression which finds expression in the bitter spirit, in forms of worry and of nervousness, in excessive and restless activities, and finally even, in the explosion of despair.

The Lighting of the Pilot Flame is the Normal Religious Experience.

When there is sufficient emphasis of attention, the normal consciousness can tell whether the pilot flame is burning, whether the recognition of God has been made. When such a recognition has not been made, there is a perception of lack.

Definite memories of religious experiences are the incidents of the lighting of the flame. Whenever personal responsibility is emerging and is beginning to control the dispatching of activities, the pilot flame may be kindled. The spark that shall kindle the flame is received from the burning flame of another life. The religious duty of parents, teachers and pastor ministers is to offer the burning flame in their own lives for the kindling of the new flames.

As the pilot flame may be blown out by a strong wind, so the recognition of God may be obliterated by the winds of doubt or of dissipation.

As rust may fill the aperture through which the power that sustains the pilot flame flows, so the cares of this world and the rust of riches may stop the possibility of kindling a soul.

The burning pilot flame furnishes a conscious perception. When it is tenderly lighted in childhood days, so that its use is anticipated, its presence will be perceived by the heat in the water, that is, by the hope and courage that sustains the daily activities.

When the lighting of the flame is delayed and is provoked by a great need, or when it is accomplished in a public meeting, there is frequently such a perception of outpouring heat and power as to make a radical change in consciousness, an experience never to be mistaken or forgotten throughout a life time.

Keeping the pilot flame burning is practicing the presence of God. The accounts of the use of the pilot flame will tell of times when the presence was specially apparent, and will also tell of occasions when in response to a great need, the pilot flame was able to do its work, to meet its emergency and supply a great volume of hope and courage.

The analogy of the lighting of the pilot flame will readily provide four aspects under which we may study such a large number of religious experiences that we may reach the accurate conception of the normal case. These aspects are "The Child who Conforms;" "The Child who Varies;" "Illumination ;" and "The Perception of the Presence of God."

The material for study consists of one hundred and eight experiences written in some detail, which have been provided by two congregations, one at Berkeley, California, and one at Morgantown, West Virginia. To these written experiences must be added the very much more extensive knowledge of cases which has come to a minister who is constantly absorbed in the practice of lighting pilot flames. Never in the last fifteen years has the average number of cases personally attended fallen below a hundred. While the knowledge gained in practice is undoubtedly used in the interpretation of the cases, for the sake of great accuracy, the written testimonies of a considerable number are offered to establish every point.

In both congregations the gathering of the experiences was made into a program from which followed many benefits in addition to the gathering of the material. A considerable number of the more intellectual type, who are entirely inhibited in the ordinary evangelistic meeting, came to that "strange warming of the heart." Emotions were set flowing, memories were stirred, vague aspirations focused upon a realization, until the after atmosphere of the church was

"better than a revival," as many remarked.

Many, retarded in their Christian development, discovered their condition, and were led to demand the benefits that have been waiting for them out of the royal bounty of the King. It was found that the focusing of attention upon the religious experience lets loose power, just as the contemplation of Jesus produces an impression of uplift and of enlightenment ; that the bringing out of the storehouse of their memories the experiences upon which their lives have turned, opens for the people the great storehouse of divine bounty. Where one was sufficiently familiar with the pen and sufficiently able to express himself in writing, ten who did not write out their experience, were reached and stirred, and induced to look back over the way whence they had come. In such a program, all the beneficial results of a fresh and vital testimony meeting are produced, while the depression of worn cant is avoided.

As significant as the effect upon the people should be the effect upon the minister. The accurate study of cases enables him to lay aside any mechanical theories that may have lingered from theological school-days. In proportion as his knowledge is derived from transpiring cases and is accurate, he becomes a soul expert. In the care of souls that are in the Way, and in the cure of souls that are out of the Way, he comes to that firm, yet delicate skill which is in the fingers of a great surgeon.

The finding of the accurate facts in regard to the normal religious experience waits upon the providing of material for study; that is, a sufficiently large collection of accurately described normal experiences. Such a collection must be provided by the ministers who have the entrance into the souls of their people.

Much attention has been given to the abnormal and exceptional case. We have abundance of evidence that the power of God can transform the gutter drunkard; but we have as yet no accurate method of applying this power.

When Professor William James turned the search-light of psychology upon the religious experience, "he loaded his lectures with concrete examples" but he chose all of his experiences from the "extremer expressions" of the religious temperament. He has largely used the testimony of the saints, admitting that because they were a specialized class, their experience was abnormal. Pie thinks that the religious impulses must be combined with common sense to obtain the wholesome normal practice. Yet for the successful production of this difficult combination, he leaves the practicing minister to his own devices. There is nowhere provided a clear analysis of the normal religious experience.

Professor Starbuck and Professor Coe have each undertaken studies of the religious experience, and have gathered such a collection of cases as they could obtain. They have succeeded in putting clearly into the minds of all religious practitioners at least one important fact — the normal time for vivid religious experience is between the ages of twelve and twenty. While practitioners return thanks to the careful scholars for the facts they have established, they need more. They need the facts upon which they \ can depend for the normal cases. Here the exception does not prove the rule. Hard pressed with his active practice, the minister needs to have worked out for him the steps of the process to be definitely expected in the normal case. The average minister must practice among the average people, with only occasional access to the inhabitants of the slums below and the saints above.

This book has been prepared in the hope that case gathering will be undertaken by many ministers, and thus the material needed for accurate study provided. The pressure of this hope has produced the book. During the six months in which scraps of time have been devoted to arranging the material, three hundred and sixteen individuals have been labored with personally to the end that the pilot flame might be lighted within their souls, and one hundred and forty-three have been carefully prepared by a vital experience and by needed instruction for church membership. The knowledge already obtained from the comparative study of cases has lent definiteness to the work.

The work of preparing this book has been carried on upon a desk that has so many pigeon holes containing the papers referring to the different interests of the local church that reference clippings get lost in the maze. The desk is flanked by two constantly ringing telephones, so that each paragraph of the book represents an interruption. A recent census returned three thousand three hundred people who look to this church for all of religion they have in their lives, and who call upon its minister for funerals, weddings, and all of moral help that they use. The minister's study door stands open to them all; he keeps business hours, and carries forward as large a volume of practice as a doctor in lighting pilot flames, in applying prayer to sickness, and sympathy to sorrow. If the book has suffered, the people have not.

Each of the two congregations from which the experiences used for study were gathered, neighbored with a state university. In each case the university constituency, — faculty families and students — numbered perhaps twenty-five per cent, of a membership of approximately a thousand, a little less in one church, a little more in the other. In both cases the remaining seventy-five per cent, was absolutely democratic, being composed of a few men of independent business and some means, clerks and office workers, mechanics and working people, including even a sprinkling of drunkards, converted and needing to be converted. Among the women, who do not outnumber the men, are a few of social efficiency and establishment, many capable housekeepers doing the work for their own families, school teachers, office girls and shop girls, and maids in household service.

While the basis for the case gathering was thus democratic, the classification of religious experiences bears no relation either to degree of attainment economically, or to intellectual culture. After reading the written report of cases, somewhat more than one hundred in number, and after considering the verbal accounts of ten times as many experiences, we are forced to the conclusion that there is neither male nor female, there is neither capable nor inefficient, there is neither educated nor uncouth, there is neither sensitive nor hardened, in the matter of the religious experience. All of these distinctions drop away as externals before the primal nature of the individual. With pronouns eliminated and the distinguishing clues of penmanship and grammar smoothed out, a careful reader would be unable correctly to allot the experiences to man and woman, to capable and inefficient. In the cases of the cultured and the untrained, it must be admitted that, in some instances, the cultured are able to express themselves in accurate and personal terms, while the untrained are largely dependent upon well-worn phrases, or phrases suggested by the questions. Where the trained minds make use of the well-worn or suggested phrases, we may have some suspicion that the expression is not intimately related to the experience. In the cases of untrained minds, the well-worn and suggested phrases come out weighted with a depth of emotionality and personal reality which should not be undervalued. If sufficient allowance be made for differences in power of expression, we shall be forced to the conclusion that the type of the religious experience does not depend upon the outward framework of the life.

In looking for the true basis for the classification of religious experiences, we are next obliged to eliminate the conception that the type of the experience determines the after quality of the Christian life. A peculiarly vivid experience is not necessarily the entrance into a peculiarly excellent Christian life. Nor does a peculiarly placid experience necessarily mean a devitalized Christian life. While the abundance and sincerity of Christian activities may be offered as testimony to the reality of the experience, the degree of activity cannot be used as the basis of classification of the type of the experience. The fervor with which a man courts his sweetheart does not determine the degree of comfort and luxury which he maintains in his home. His faithful efforts at maintaining his home, may, however, be received as evidence of the sincerity of his courtship, regardless of whether the expression of his courtship was fervid or formal. Like courtship, the religious experience is an adjustment of relationships brought about under the pressure of an emotion. Like married life, Christian activity is an expression of the sincere acceptance of this relationship.

Nor does the word "temperament" provide any accurate basis of classification. Some of the most emotional Christians can remember no transforming single experience. Some of the most matterof-fact and controlled, can remember one vital occasion when their entire consciousness turned over, like a great stone pried from its place.

There are two normal types of the religious experience. One remembers a vivid and never-to-bemistaken occasion, when all inhibitions of unwillingness being swept away by a strong tide of emotionality, an adjustment of relationship with God was made. The other type, generally reaching back into childhood, tells of episodes and of occasions when it was realized that God was in relationship to the life. This type are frequently hazy as to exactly the time at which this relationship was achieved.

The religious experience is closely intertwined with the emerging of the consciousness of individuality, as contrasted with consciousness of family and environing institutions, like school and church. If individuality emerges from family consciousness without friction, a placid religious experience will be normal. If there be a friction, or a reaction from family ideals, or a lack of preparation for emerging individuality, a more

U THE PILOT FLAME

climacterical experience may be expected. On the flowing river of life, at the point where interior responsibility should take control of conduct, there is apparently a lock and a dam across the stream. A sympathetically wise parent, or Sunday School teacher, or pastor, may succeed in steering childhood consciousness into the lock, where it is let down so smoothly into adult individuality that the time of the transition is not perceived. If this steering is not performed, a few young spirits may accidentally stray into the lock, but it must be expected that the majority will go over the dam. Going over the dam provides a more vivid sensation than passing through the lock. It is not mistaken nor forgotten.

No superior excellence need be claimed for either type of experience. Children whose re-- ligious consciousness has been carefully nurtured will probably find the passage through the lock most pleasing, provided always they are actually, steered through the lock, and not left to float on the pool of immature consciousness provided by the family and church. On the other hand, going over the dam has not been found to be either dangerous or disastrous. In the cases of that large number who have missed careful steering, it may be the only available method of securing that much needed interior submission to divine control, when parental control is breaking up. This type of experience will prevail when the

Christian family is failing to direct carefully its children.

Both types of experience are normal and effective. Let it be clearly perceived that the type of experience is an accident of maturing life. He who has come through the lock and he who has come over the dam should continue on down the river of life in the fellowship of mutual respect.

Chapter I

The arrival of a baby, trailing clouds of vicarious suffering which are coloured with the glory of love, sets wide one of life's gateways. Just as it is possible to catch an impression of glory by keeping close behind some saint who passes in at the gate of the celestial city, so it is possible to perceive a meaning of life, by being a reverent watchman when the gate of entrance is thrown open. At this entrance. gate is an altar, for an altar is a place where the divine and the human meet and mingle. The high functions of ministrants before the altar at the entrance gateway of life pertain to the women, the mother lying prostrate but triumphant, and the nurse clothed with the infallible authority of the pope. By meekly lingering around the place where the mystery has been revealed, the father may find that the functions of the altar boy will be allotted to him, and he will be permitted to hold the robes, and carry some of the vessels used in the tender processes of receiving the new comer into life. By being faithfully on hand, a father found one

important office assigned to him, — he was permitted to put his big hand under the wobbly little head, and support it evenly on that day when the baby was first put into the bath-tub. When the last baby arrived, having heard the day for this event announced, he was on hand, listening with all respectful attention to the directions of the nurse. The nurse had ministered many times before this altar at the entrance gate of life, and she discoursed with profound insight upon the event about to take place.

She said the bath should take place when the baby was neither hungry nor sleepy, but having awakened from a long nap, was ready for a new sensation. The water should be minutely adjusted to the temperature of the baby's flesh, and the fire should make the air a little warmer, to allow for possible chilling by evaporation. Tall screens should shut out any possibility of a draft, for the roseleaf covering of the baby is abnormally sensitive.

The nurse folded a large soft towel and laid it in the bottom of the tub. Robes and wrappings having been removed, she gently lowered the little body, letting my hand support behind the head and extend under the uncertain neck. While she tossed the water with gentle pattings, I watched the blossom face, looking for some sign of stirring impressions within. I thought I saw surprise and attention flickering there. Then the baby's eyes, like two violets with the dew on them, caught on my eyes, and pleasure emerged and spread down to the little mouth, which surely smiled.

The nurse lifted her carefully and folded her into a warm blanket and uttered further words of wisdom.

"It is good that she did not cry. If you are careless about the first bath, so that the baby does not like it and cries, it will almost surely cry every time you bathe it. When I began taking care of babies, I thought the water ought to be cool to harden them a little, but it is a mistake. I took care of a baby that cried every time it was bathed and acted as if it were abused. It was apparently perfectly well, but the mother dreaded so to bathe the baby, that she kept me taking care of it. When I left it, the baby was more than a year old, but I expect it is crying still every time it is bathed. Now I know that you cannot be too careful about the first time in bathing babies. If the baby likes it, the bathing becomes a happy play time for the mother and for the baby. But if the baby is frightened at the new sensation, the terror may deepen every day, and the necessity of the bath becomes a dreaded strain upon the mother."

As each day slipped by, our baby girl affirmed the joy of her bath. The wobbly head stiffened up on its post, until she could sit up in her tub, and had no further use for my supporting hand. She would spatter the water with her little palms, making bubbles ; then she would catch the floating bubbles, and, when they would break, she would laugh with that fresh glee of a soul awakening into a beautiful world.

The mother, sitting by, would laugh too, and say, "How different it is from my struggles with the boy. He was the first baby, and the nurse was not so wise. I can recall that the first time she bathed him, the water was a little cool according to her theory of hygiene, and he cried. I protested that he looked somewhat blue, but she said that he needed to be hardened. Every time he was bathed he cried. When the nurse left, and I must care for him myself, the bathing was the ordeal of the day. Even though he is now a big boy, he still dislikes water, and bathing is a duty to which I must nag him."

The little girl proclaims that water is a medium soft and delightful, and that bathing has many resources of joy. The boy, child of the same household, proclaims that water is a source of terror, and that bathing is a tyranny inflicted by his mother. If you ask the mother, she will tell you that bathing is neither for the amusement of her little girl, nor for the torment of her boy, but it has in both cases the same purpose and determination of keeping her children clean. "The fact that the little girl likes the bath, makes the work of keeping her clean, a beautiful fellowship of joy. As she grows into the knowledge of taking care of herself, she will affirm the goodness of the care I have been giving her. The boy troubles me. I cannot get his consent to being clean. I can only hope that when he comes to his maturing and begins to be responsible for his own life, that he will get a new insight, and come to a conviction of the need of being clean. I hope that the need of being clean will then overcome that early association of terror. That first bath, inflicted on him by a nurse who had theories of hygiene, but who did not observe that a baby is not only a body but a sensitive plate receiving indelible impressions, makes water with him an association of dislike."

Such wisdom an acolyte can gain while serving at the altar of the unfolding of new life. Birth is not the beginning of life ; apparently life has no beginning. Birth is the coming into a new environment and development is the response to the new sensations. A number of times human life comes into a new environment, although birth and death may be the most abrupt of these transitions. As the child enters into new ranges of sensation, the associations created will be either of pleasure and approval, or of terror and dislike.