Manuscripts and Memories of Minneapolis

G. I. Butler to E. G. White, Sep. 24, 1892

Butler, G. I.
September 24, 1892
Bowling Green, De Soto County
Florida
September 24, 1892
Dear Sister White,

It is Sabbath p.m. It is a very rare thing for me to write a letter on the Sabbath. But I hope it will not be wrong for me to write you at this time, in answer to yours of July 8, received weeks ago. MMM 206.1

I have debated much in my mind whether to answer your letter or not, as very likely it will only burden your mind and cause you additional anxiety and labor. You wrote me a very good, kind, motherly letter. There was only one consideration connected with it that caused me pain, and that was that you should in your weakness and poor health and suffering, take upon you the additional burden of writing it. I did not expect really that you would answer my former letter expressing some sympathy for your afflictions. I did not know but you might, of course, and was thankful to you for so kind and tender a letter as the one you wrote. I hardly think I should reply to it only that I fear you would attribute my silence to a wrong cause, should I not. MMM 206.2

I was glad to learn so many particulars of your health and physical condition. I am always interested to know of these and have thought much about how you were healthwise. I feared your ailments were quite serious, but hardly supposed they were so hard for you to bear as your letter implies. Truly, you have had a very serious time and it is surprising that you could write so much under such trying difficulties. MMM 206.3

But I am truly glad that you have enjoyed such great peace of mind, such precious spiritual communion with the Saviour. You serve with such faithfulness. I know full well that with such a sense of that precious blessing, one can bear up under much. The blessing of God is of more value than all besides. It is the pearl of great price. The blessing of God maketh rich and He addeth no sorrow with it. It more than counterbalances any earthly affliction or sorrow when enjoyed in full measure. MMM 206.4

I cannot truthfully claim any remarkable spiritual enjoyment. I have carried a sad, heavy heart for years, though not going about gloomy or melancholy groaning or misanthropic, but trying to be patient, kind and useful. I do not wish to be understood as enjoying none of the blessing of God however, for from time to time glimpses of my Saviour’s love break down my heart in tenderness and tears as His infinite love opens before me. But the seasons are not as continuous as I wish they were. I think I never in all my life could see more beauty in the Saviour’s character than during the great trial through which I have been passing. MMM 207.1

Our whole system of truth stands firm as the Everlasting Rock. I have given up no point of it. The nearness of Christ’s coming never seemed more certain to me, as I have been writing for review on the Saviour’s great prophecy (which I presume you have not taken time to read with all your burdens). And I can truly say my prayer is often, “Come, Lord Jesus, and come quickly.” That event is the only hope of the world and my only hope. This world looks very meager and unsatisfactory to me, and the great salvation most precious. And whether I am ever so happy as to be saved or not, I want the Lord to come and gather His precious jewels and put an end to the terrible reign of wickedness under which the world is groaning. MMM 207.2

Yet, in spite of the great darkness which you and many of my dear friends are attributing to me, I still hope in God, I know I love God and the Saviour—not as much by any means as I wish to, but better, I think, than anything or anybody else. Of course I may be deceived in this, but so I feel and ever mean to. And I feel so thankful that with all my great unworthiness, which I realize sometimes most oppressively, and while there are few earthly friends who seem to look upon me with any feelings but pity and condemnation, yet the tender, precious Saviour seems not to have cast me off wholly. MMM 207.3

My dear Sister, I can say with you, I have no hatred in my heart (unless terribly deceived) towards anyone, much less towards you. You speak of your great sorrow at the “circumstances that have estranged us.” I assure you, it has been one of the great sorrows of my life. This is one of the things which have made my heart so heavy and sad. This estrangement on my part has not reached a degree so great but that I still regard you as a true prophet of the Lord, one of the most pious, devoted servants of the Saviour in this world, and a laborer in the cause of my choice—second in efficiency to none, in it. I assure you, I speak not this to flatter, but it is what I honestly believe. The contrast between my opinion of you and yours of me would be, I doubt not, striking. And yet I give you credit for greatly desiring my salvation. I am not hurt either, by your repeated assurances in this last letter, of my being in a very dangerous spiritual condition. MMM 208.1

Believing you to be a prophet, I must give you room to speak what you regard your duty. I have not been carrying about in my heart (if I know it) feelings of hatred to you for saying what you have to me in the past, of my “moulding” the Cause wrong, being such a “clog” to some portions of the work, making your lot so exceeding hard, harder than that of open opposers, like Canright, I suppose, etc., etc. Of course these and other things have been a terrible blow to me, when I thought I was doing the utmost in my power and earnestly seeking divine aid that I might advance the work of God. Coming at a time when, broken down in physical and mental strength, it seemed at times more than I could bear and life itself seemed a burden. These and other afflictions have pretty near wrecked the old man and it has not seemed that I could ever rise above them. MMM 208.2

But I have felt that it would not be manly or Christian for me to go groaning about in mourning and repining, making myself and others wretched, but I would keep cheerful as possible, look to the Man of Sorrows who is full of sympathy for human woe. He knows, Sister White, that I sought earnestly to do His will, whether anybody else knows it or not. And though failures numerous and bad have followed me, and I am a bad failure, perhaps altogether—yet He cares for honest hearts, and He knows I have sought to be faithful. He has comforted my heart many times here in Florida, though leaving me to feel sadness and anguish also. MMM 209.1

As the mist has cleared in a [? use,] I have come to conclude that all these experiences that have seemed to mysterious have been ordered for my good by an all-wise Providence, and He has, I doubt not, so ordered it that you should be one leading instrument in inflicting them, because as things were, you could do it more effectually, perhaps, than any other. MMM 209.2

Shall I tell you, my sister, that for two or three years before I left the work to come to Florida, I had an impression—it seemed a sort of presentiment—that I had yet to pass through the greatest trial of my life. I could not tell why, unless it was that by means of it, I might obtain a brighter Christian experience than I ever have had before. I have been conscious for many years that there was a higher plane of spirituality I wanted and needed to reach. But I have not known how to accomplish it. Many a time in secret have I prayed and prayed till I did not know how to pray more, or obtained more intense longings, unless I became fanatical, which I hoped never to be. I doubt not the reason is some hidden weakness, pride or something I have not discerned. I suppose this trial is all in the order of God for my good. I cannot tell how or why or when, I may get out of it. I seek daily to bear it with a spirit of submission. I do not mourn or complain or hate anybody, but mean to get good from it some way. Maybe I shall be lost at last. But if I am I shall be lost, an honest man. But I hope for better things, though how I shall get out of my present labyrinth I know not. MMM 209.3

Doubtless you and many others could come out as slick as Bunyan’s Pilgrim did, from the castle of Giant Despair. But everyone has his own difficulties, idiosyncracies and peculiar weaknesses to contend with. I have mine, surely. I cannot do as many others do. My mental processes I know not how to escape. I cannot violate what seems to me to be the right thing to do, whatever others might do. Neither can I do a thing which seems to me to be wrong because others think it is right, whatever folly others may attribute to my course of action. MMM 210.1

You have said some things that seem to me hard sayings. Now they may all be true. I think I have never said that your testimony to me was not true. I freely give you credit for access to greater light than I claim to possess. I know quite well the danger we are in personally, of self-deception, of thinking too well of ourselves and our opinions. Why then, should I not at once acknowledge the truthfulness of What you charge me with?, you may say? Because I cannot make it seem to me to be so, and really it seems otherwise. Yet it may not be. I cannot feel that I ought to say a thing is so and that I believe it is so unless I can see some way that it is so. To make such a confession would seem to me to stultify my own conscience, to pretend to be what I am not. I don’t feel that I can do it, if every friend on earth forsakes me. MMM 210.2

Very likely this will all look very foolish to you. But so it seems to me. I wrote you some things which gave you great offense. I wrote frankly as they looked to me. I have never seen how I could have done otherwise, viewing of things as they appeared to me. I am greatly blamed for so doing. Some others whose names I wish not to mention, who apparently enjoy your full favor—of course I know not whether they really do or not—have said things more strong than I said to you. They took a different course and seemed to prosper in so doing. Very well, that is nothing to me. MMM 210.3

Now I suffer, dear Sister, until I see all these things in a different light, and make confessions accordingly, you will always regard me as being terribly in the dark, and which you do. Of course, it is useless for me to say anything. The general impression is that Elder Butler is terribly in the dark. MMM 211.1

A friend of mine sometime since, was asked on a Kansas campground if I had not given up the Truth and gone into infidelity. Letters have been written several times, of similar import, and these things come about it various ways. I pay no attention to them. All of these things are permitted in God’s great wheel of Providence. They will not hurt me. But of course if our family afflictions had ceased, it would be impossible for me, in view of these things, held as I am, to labor in the General work as I have done in past years. I have tried to labor what I could in writing—have thought most likely that avenue would yet be closed to me, so spiritually blind as it seems I must be. In that case I see nothing more than that I can give of my slender means for the good Cause. I still believe I shall do that, if no more. MMM 211.2

Of course all these things have a tendency to make a sad hurt. Yet I hope in God. I love His truth. I mean to be true to my profession, love the faithful ones who are toiling in hard places. I am a poor, unworthy mortal and my only hope is in Christ my Lord. I am prematurely old and do not amount to much myself. I hope yet to get out above this great trial and prove myself a faithful child of God. I desire not riches, position, an easy time, or praise from anyone. I do greatly desire to hear it said, “Well done” at last—not by virtue of what I can do, but through the grace of Christ alone. This is my only hope. MMM 211.3

As a family, our conditions are about the same. Poor wife is trying to patiently bear her invalid lot. She keeps usually very cheerful and patient. But at times her pains and sorrows are so severe, she can hardly bear them. She is still a helpless invalid, her right side being yet paralyzed. I still feel it my duty to care for her and help make her lot as comfortable as I can. My health I think slowly improves, but I cannot stand much hard labor. But I keep busy all the time at writing and manual labor—write generally every a.m., several hours. MMM 212.1

Now, Sister White, I have written you a long letter. I question almost whether it was right to burden you with it. Yet I cannot tell sure. I trust you will see no hatred in it, no wicked intent. Very likely you will not be pleased with it, or at least portions of it. I have written as I would to a mother, I hope sincerely and with high regard. I do not ask you to answer it and hope you will not, if it would add to your burdens. MMM 212.2

Sincerely yours,
(Signed) Geo. I. Butler
Typed Feb. 27, 1979
from handwritten letter

arr MMM 212.3