01.01. REV. ABNER JONES

REV. ABNER JONES The Man Who Believed and Served

Creeds and confessions? High Church or the low?

I cannot say; but you would vastly please us If with some pointed Scripture you could show To which of these belonged the Savior, Jesus.

I think to all, or none. Not curious creeds Or ordered forms of churchly rule be taught, But soul of love that blossomed into deeds, With human good and human blessing fraught. On me no priest nor presbyter nor pope, Bishop nor dean, may stamp a party name; But Jesus, with his largely human scope, The service of my human life may claim.

Let prideful priests do battle about creeds, The church is mine that does most Christ-like deeds.

--John Stewart Blackie.

Abner Jones was four years old when the Declaration of Independence was signed. He was born amid the birth throes of a nation, and his first breath was that of political liberty. The first sounds that fell upon his youthful ears were the screams of the American Eagle, as it proudly beat the air in celebration of the great victory of the Revolutionary war.

He belonged to nature’s noblemen, whose high-born spirit refused the low servilities of political and ecclesiastical courts, but who proudly stood erect in the presence of both king and pope, and declared that of right all men are free. To that generation liberty was the simple birthright of all human beings; they claimed it as such; they reverenced and held it fast as the inalienable gift of God, which was not to be surrendered to power, nor sold for gold. It was theirs as men; without it they did not esteem themselves as men; it was essential to their happiness, a thing to be prized above wealth, ease, honor, country, or life itself. They claimed for each person a perfect individual freedom in matters of conscience. No one was authorized to be master over thought, or commissioned from on high to tell men what to believe. No man, nor group of men, could sit in judgment in the realm of thought. God had given to man the boundless element of truth, the shoreless and fathomless ocean of love, and who should direct his path. We now know that there was manliness in the words of Patrick Henry, "Give me liberty, or give me death." The spirit of liberty and equality was in the air, and many thousand hearts echoed every sound that went forth in hope of its realization. The farmer’s cottage, the pioneer’s cabin, and the well-to-do trader’s mansion, all gleamed in radiant light as the word went forth that the yoke was to break, and the bondage end. Amid such surroundings Abner Jones first saw the light of day, and had grown to young manhood e’er the spirit had subsided, or the tumult ceased. He was born a freeman in principle, a freeman in thought, a freeman in action, and when grown he came to his inheritance, and in the consciousness of that high born right he refused allegiance to all kings, except the King of kings, and confessed to no bishop, except the Bishop of his soul. But while he was so well favored in the spirit of his early years, he was nevertheless greatly handicapped by the severe limitations of his material surroundings.

He was born in Royalton, Massachusetts, April 28, 1772. Eight years afterward his father moved to Bridgewater, Vermont. At that early day the state was yet a wilderness, and his father the first settler in that part of it. In his Memoirs he says: "Our house (though to the popular part of mankind may seem strange) was erected without either plank, joist, boards, shingles, stone, brick, nails or glass, but was built wholly of logs, bark, boughs and wooden pins, instead of nails. The snow was four feet deep, and the weather extremely cold, and many trees within reach of the house, and two miles from neighbors. We were favored, however, with warm clothing and solid provision, and enough of it. The great plenty of wood which was so nigh was easily collected into large heaps before one end of the house (the greater part of which was open) and set on fire, thus it was kept day and night until the weather grew warm. What little household furniture we then had was drawn two miles on hand sleds, by men on snow shoes, which made a path sufficiently hard for my mother, and such of the children as were not able to assist in drawing the hand sleds, to follow after." And this was not the only limitation. Vermont was a wilderness, dense, dreary, melancholy. Poisonous serpents were in the grass, wild beasts were in the forest, skulking Indians were in the shadows, and treacherous white men were by no means unknown. Fifty miles back from the Atlantic Coast the country was an unbroken jungle. Dense forests and impassable morasses added to the difficulty of travel, and in places made it impossible. Travel was on foot, or horseback; schools were few, and poorly equipped; the entire population of the United States would not exceed three and a quarter million, when young Jones cast his first vote, and yet, with all these limitations, and more of like character besetting his path, he marched steadily on, until his name and his fame have been entwined in the hearts of all who know and love the Christian Church. None of us have ever seen this great pioneer of religious liberty in the flesh, but we have breathed his spirit, we have felt his presence, we have known his power, and we have been aided by the strength of his faith and the character of his courage. He is a force never to be forgotten; he made his contribution to the cause of Christian freedom, and though dead, he yet speaketh. When he was but eight years old, he was deeply concerned about his soul, and went through all the soul-racking experiences common to those early days. He says of such experience: "I know not a better similitude than the wilderness in which I then dwelt; uncultivated, and inhabited by wild beasts of prey, dreary and melancholy." But from out the gloom his soul emerged into the light, and from that time begins the life about which we write. That the reader may know something of his religious experience, we repeat it as he tells it in his Memoirs:

"A dreadful event occurred just at this time, in which a man was accidentally shot by his intimate friend, while hunting deer. As may well be supposed, in a population so sparse, a tremendous excitement was created which ended in a ’revival of religion so general, that it seemed there was not a person come to years of reflection, who did not share in it, and many were brought out of darkness into God’s marvellous light.

"I remember of having my attention more than usually called up to the concerns of my soul, in the above mentioned reformation, by hearing Mr. Benjamin Burch speak about death, judgment and eternity. Although I was only nine years old, the pride of my heart was so great that I was ashamed to let any one know that I felt concerned about my soul, neither could I bear to have any one see me weeping. I now felt the need of religion more than ever I had done before. I was fully convinced that I must be born again or be damned. I used frequently to resort to secret prayer. The place which I chose for this purpose was at the foot of a rock, where it seemed there was a place carved out on purpose for me to kneel down in.

"About this time there came a man by the name of Snow, into these parts, who was a Baptist preacher, or rather an exhorter. He had a meeting appointed one evening about a quarter of a mile from my father’s, which I attended. As I was going, I remember of trying to pray that God would have mercy on me. I felt particularly desirous that I might get some good that evening. I do not remember ever to have had such a desire before. When I arrived every thing seemed overspread with gloominess and darkness, and every thing of a religious nature appeared melancholy, and I do not remember that the thought ever passed my mind that religion yielded any joy, or peace. All the advantage I thought of, was that it would save my soul from eternal misery, and on that account I felt desirous to obtain it, feeling fully satisfied of my lost, undone condition. It appeared to me as though for a moment I was lost, and then every thing appeared new. I really thought that the preacher had entirely altered his subject from something that was melancholy, to something joyful and happy. The following thoughts passed through my mind in swift succession: What is this? It is something entirely new; it makes me completely happy; I wish to enjoy it forever. After the speaker had done, my father rose and gave a word of exhortation, as I had often heard him before, and which always until that time seemed to fill my mind with gloom. But I really thought my father spoke as he never had before, for it appeared to be glorious. I did not at that time think the alteration was in me, but thought it was in my father. The unspeakable joy and peace which I then felt, I cannot describe. I was completely happy, and wished for nothing more. The fear of being miserable was entirely gone from my mind, and the dreary gloom that before rested on my mind had vanished away. All this time I had no idea what it was that caused this change in my mind. From whence it came, and whither it went, I could not tell. I had no thought that I was converted. My mind remained in this situation for a number of days, not knowing what these things meant.

"At length one day, as I was passing from the house to the barn, these words came to me with great force: ’For this my Son was dead, and is alive again; was lost, and is found.’ Luke 15:24. This was the first passage of Scripture that was ever sent home to my heart. It seemed to open, and explain to my understanding, how I had been dead in sin, and made alive in Christ; and also how I had been lost, but was now found of Christ as a Savior. From that moment a hope sprang up in my soul of eternal life." This experience was not unbroken. He had seasons of doubt and despair. At one time, while working in the field, he felt so depressed that it appeared to him that he was eternally deprived of hope. He really felt that he had begun his eternal, endless, despairing misery; he believed that he heard the voice of God saying to him, "Depart from me ye cursed." In his despair he dropped his work, and ran with wild, reckless speed to his mother, who was able to comfort him. For some years his experiences were contradictory; at times the most exhilarating joy would overflow his soul, and all would be light and peace; at other times the most indescribable gloom would settle down upon him, and he would walk in darkness and in doubt. But at last he was firmly anchored in the faith of the gospel, and was assured of his acceptance, and on the 9th of June, 1793, he was baptized by Elder Elisha Ransom, of Woodstock, Vermont, and received to membership in the Baptist Church. When twenty-one years of age he was deeply impressed that he must preach the gospel, and the question came to him, "If I must preach, what shall I preach?" He was far from being satisfied with the views, or creed, of his brethren; he determined to give the whole matter a careful and serious investigation. He accordingly took the Bible, and without note or comment, and without consulting any individual, or receiving sympathy from any living being, he commenced a prayerful and careful examination of the Book itself. He was led to conclude that the name Baptist was not the authorized name for the followers of Jesus Christ, and that the polity of the Baptist Church could not be supported by the Scriptures, and yet for a while he continued in fellowship and in service with the church. The story of his call to the ministry, and his courage in the matter of his ordination, is told by his son, A. D. Jones, in the following language:

"Elder Jones commenced preaching in September, 1801, and from that time to the day of his death he gave himself with great fidelity to the good work. From the first, he announced his determination to stand alone, and acknowledge the authority of no church or set of men. He and about a dozen others, laymen, and residents of Lyndon, covenanted together in church form, and called themselves CHRISTIANS--rejecting all party and sectional names, and leaving each other free to cherish such speculative views of theology as the Scriptures might plainly seem to teach them. This was probably the first FREE CHRISTIAN Church ever established in New England.

"He immediately became an itinerant, and went wherever and whenever he was invited; and soon found large congregations in all the neighboring towns. He presently extended his sphere of labor into the adjoining States, and in the course of two or three years swept nearly the whole extent of New England.

"When Elder Jones commenced preaching, he had great doubts about his being called of God to this work. He therefore made a vow, that he would preach one year, unless convinced before its expiration that he was doing wrong. He had property enough to support his family for that length of time, and he supposed that if God had called him to the ministry He would provide bread for his family. The year went round, and plenty crowned his board. He had not touched the little he had accumulated in his medical practice. So his fears were somewhat abated, and he more fully believed that the hand of the Lord was in it, and that he must now consecrate himself entirely to the work of the ministry.

"He accordingly looked around him for the means of ordination. Now it happened about this time that he was invited to attend a quarterly meeting among the Free-will Baptists. He was pleased with the zeal and piety of the brethren, and his heart was strongly drawn towards them. He preached among them, and to much acceptance. They were desirous that he should become one of their number, and solicited him to do so. I will let him give his own account of the conference that passed between them:

"’I attended the Elders’ conference, and gave them my views of being nothing but a Christian; and that I could not be a Free-will Baptist; yet that I heartily fellowshipped them as Christians, and so far was happy to unite with them in the work of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I further observed that I should be glad to receive from them the right hand of fellowship as a Christian, but not as a Free-will Baptist; for the Lord had taught me that I must be a Christian only. Although their fellowship was very desirable, as I was entirely alone, yet I determined that it should be known what kind of fellowship was meant.

"’I said to them, "You came out free, but the devil sent the name of Freewillers after you, and you have picked it up."

"’Elder Randall observed, "We glory in the name of Freewillers."

"’I answered, "I will not acknowledge any of the devil’s impositions. Understand me perfectly, brethren, I do not wish to join the Free-will Baptists. I wish Christian fellowship. If hereafter it should be asked, ’Have you joined the Free-will Baptists?’ the answer will always be, ’No.’ It shall not be said thereafter, ’Brother Jones, you belong with us, and our rules are thus and so.’ I will never be subject to one of your rules; but if you will give me the right hand as a brother, and let me remain a free man, just as I am, I should be glad.’"

"’On these grounds, the right hand of fellowship was cheerfully given. A number of months after this they voluntarily appointed an ecclesiastical council, and ordained me a free man.

"Elder Jones received ordination on the last day of November, 1802. Elders Aaron Buzzell, Nathaniel King and Nathaniel Brown were the officiating clergymen." From childhood he had been taught the Scriptures according to the Calvinistic formula. The doctrine of the trinity, original sin, vicarious atonement, literal punishment for sin in a literal lake of fire, had been his daily mental and moral diet, from his earliest recollection. When he came to know for himself the truth as it is in Christ Jesus, he felt his intellect outraged and his moral sense at war with the system of doctrine, and hence there was nothing for him to do but to count the cost, pay the price, and meet the issue, and this, he did bravely, courteously, and courageously. When James O’Kelly went out from the Methodist Conference, no doctrine was involved, but when Abner Jones went out from the Baptist Church nothing but doctrine was involved. Immediately the brand of a heretic was upon him, and he was religiously ostracized, and his doctrine denounced as of the devil and dangerous. Always in such separations love is put to shame, and the truth suffers. But like all men of vision he was willing to suffer for conscience’ sake. He had faith in what he believed; he had faith in the future; he believed that no man, or group of men, had the right to say to honest seekers after truth, this is true, and this is false, but that every man must find the truth for himself, and finding it for himself it is his alone. No great man has ever been inspired through his memory, nor by the ideals of the past. Abner Jones was a truly great man, and he was not afraid of the future, and, like the Master, he set his face steadfastly to go to his Jerusalem. He was not unmindful of his obligation to those who had first taught him the way of life; his friends were now doubly dear to him, seeing that he must be separated from them, but cost what it would in friendship, and in fellowship, his duty was imperative, and his way clear, and like the hero that he was, he walked out alone to dare and to do for the right. Nor was he ignorant of what he would have to suffer in the untrodden path he had chosen for his feet. He knew that he would have to run the theological gauntlet, and that doctrinal sticks and stones of enormous size would be hurled at him by minds of gigantic strength, and hearts of conscientious conviction; he saw the wall, grim and dark, that was to separate him from those he loved; he saw the fiery red tongue of envy and hatred protruding from every pulpit he had hitherto occupied; he knew that everything would be done within the possibility of human strength to crush him, and silence his teaching; he knew that he would be looked upon as a disturber of society, and a preacher of strange doctrine; he knew that the firesides at which he had sat and held sweet communion with his brethren would be his to enjoy no more; he knew that the tables at which he had eaten would be given to another; he knew that he would be spoken of among his old friends as "one that is not of us" and that upon his head would fall the anathemas of the whole church, but what could he do? That old sweet spirit of freedom that he had breathed through all his early years now surged through his soul and permeated his whole being and, like a mighty power moving toward, a glorious hope, he went out into that truth which makes all men free.

While Abner Jones was not college trained, he yet merited and held a creditable place among the educated of his day. He was a teacher in the common schools, of recognized ability; he studied medicine, and was a successful and popular practitioner for several years; he acquired a creditable mastery of the Greek, Latin and Hebrew grammars, and could read with tolerable readiness in each of these languages; he accumulated considerable property while practicing medicine, all of which he used in maintaining his family while preaching the gospel to the poor. These facts are recited that the reader may know something of the man whose contribution to the Kingdom of God has met the approval of the church for more than a hundred years, and which grows in favor with men as the years go by. What was his special contribution?