Autobiographical Sketch of Ellen G. White
Note: Since criticisms about Ellen White's life are dealt with elsewhere on this site,
we here simply let her tell in her own words her life story.—WebMaster
Chapter 8: Call to Travel
My health was so poor that I was in constant bodily suffering, and, to all appearance, had but a short time to live. I was but seventeen years of age, small and
frail, unused to society, and naturally so timid and retiring that it was painful for me to meet strangers. I prayed earnestly for several days, and far into the night,
that this burden might be removed from me and laid upon someone more capable of bearing it. But the light of duty did not change, and the words of the angel
sounded continually in my ears: "Make known to others what I have revealed to you."
I was unreconciled to going out into the world, and dreaded to meet its sneers and opposition. I had little self-confidence. Hitherto when the Spirit of God had
urged me to duty, I had risen above myself, forgetting all fear and timidity in the thought of Jesus' love and the wonderful work He had done for me. The
constant assurance that I was fulfilling my duty and obeying the will of the Lord gave me a confidence that surprised me. At such times I felt willing to do or
suffer anything in order to help others into the light and peace of Jesus.
But it seemed impossible for me to perform this work that was presented before me; to attempt it seemed certain failure. The trials attending it appeared more
than I could endure. How could I, a child in years, go forth from place to place, unfolding to the people the holy truths of God? My heart shrank in terror from
the thought. My brother Robert, but two years older than myself, could not accompany me, for he was feeble in health and his timidity greater than mine;
nothing could have induced him to take such a step. My father had a family to support, and could not leave his business; but he assured me that if God had
called me to labor in other places, He would not fail to open the way for me. But these words of encouragement brought little comfort to my desponding heart;
the path before me seemed hedged in with difficulties that I was unable to overcome.
I coveted death as a release from the responsibilities that were crowding upon me. At length the sweet peace I had so long enjoyed left me, and despair again
pressed upon my soul. My prayers all seemed vain, and my faith was gone. Words of comfort, reproof, or encouragement were alike to me; for it seemed that no
one could understand me but God, and He had forsaken me. The company of believers in Portland were ignorant concerning the exercises of my mind that had
brought me into this state of despondency; but they knew that for some reason my mind had become depressed, and they felt that this was sinful on my part,
considering the gracious manner in which the Lord had manifested Himself to me.
I feared that God had taken His favor from me forever. As I thought of the light that had formerly blessed my soul, it seemed doubly precious in contrast with
the darkness that now enveloped me. Meetings were held at my father's house, but my distress of mind was so great that I did not attend them for some time.
My burden grew heavier until the agony of my spirit seemed more than I could bear.
At length I was induced to be present at one of the meetings in my own home. The church made my case a special subject of prayer. Father Pearson, who in my
earlier experience had opposed the manifestations of the power of God upon me, now prayed earnestly for me, and counseled me to surrender my will to the
will of the Lord. Like a tender father he tried to encourage and comfort me, bidding me believe I was not forsaken by the Friend of sinners.
I felt too weak and despondent to make any special effort for myself, but my heart united with the petitions of my friends. I cared little now for the opposition of
the world, and felt willing to make every sacrifice if only the favor of God might be restored to me. While prayer was offered for me, the thick darkness that
had encompassed me rolled back, and a sudden light came upon me. My strength was taken away. I seemed to be in the presence of the angels. One of these
holy beings again repeated the words: "Make known to others what I have revealed to you."
One great fear that oppressed me was that if I obeyed the call of duty, and went out declaring myself to be one favored of the Most High with visions and
revelations for the people, I might yield to sinful exaltation and be lifted above the station that was right for me to occupy, bring upon myself the displeasure of
God, and lose my own soul. I had before me several cases such as I have here described, and my heart shrank from the trying ordeal.
(Testimonies for the Church, vol. 1, pp. 62-64)