In the World of Spirits: Story of a Conversion

In the World of Spirits The Story of a Conversion By J. M. Sjodahl, Assistant Editor "Millennial Star' Herr Pettersson was a prominent citizen of a small, provincial city in the southern part of Sweden, more than fifty years ago. He was among the very respected few who paid enough taxes to be entitled to vote at municipal elections, and he could, consequently, discuss politics with some authority, though he knew a great deal less about the ship of state than about the ships in the harbor. Being a sail-maker by trade, he knew all about the rigging of a vessel, from the simple outfit of a fishing boat to that of a proud frigate, and he, naturally, concluded that he knew just as much about the jibs and square sails, designed to catch the political wind, but he did not. He was dignified, though, showing in every movement that he was conscious of his importance to the state and the community in which he lived. He was short of stature, corpulent, and well groomed. He was near-sighted, and looked out upon the world through heavy glasses, with the intensity of one determined not to miss any detail. His spectacles were supported by a short nose, pointing upwards, like a bowsprit, and on the lappels of his coat he always carried a liberal quantity of snuff which had failed to find an entrance to its place of destination, and had, therefore, fallen and settled on his coat; for, be it remembered, at that time respectable citizens carried costly snuff-boxes and, at regular intervals, transferred part of the contents to their nostrils, closing the natural respiratory channels. This was quite comme il faut at that time, and, really, no more absurd tb an the present habit, in which so many indulge, in smoking cigarettes and using the nose for a chimney. Herr Pettersson was the proud father of a large and interesting family. He had ten children, all of whom, boys and girls alike, had been brought up in the fear of God, and the rod. His wife faithfully assisted him in both methods of education. For Herr Pettersson was a God-fearing man, in his way. In fact, he was a "Pietist." He claimed to have been "born again" by a hard mental struggle, during which he had felt condemned for his sins, but had shed salty tears of repentance and prayed for forgiveness, until the Lord had assured him that his sins had

112 IMPROVEMENT ERA been remitted. He was now, therefore, God's own child. He had peace in his soul and knew that whenever the Lord should call him, he would be prepared to enter heaven, where he would don white robes and a crown of gold, and take his place in the string band which consists chiefly, if not exclusively, of harps. Happy in this belief, he frequently held conventicles in his house and preached to his friends and neighbors, who listened to him glady and came to look up to him as to a little king, a veritable "pillar of society." True, some of them criticized him for not taking an active interest in the labor movement which at that time began to attract attention, and some were shocked when parliament pased the act abolishing the prerogatives of the nobility, and Herr Pettersson showed his dissension by refusing to illuminate his home as a sign of jubilation. But this was soon forgotten, and he continued to hold his position as a leader among the Pietists, none of whom took an interest in the common people. He read his Bible diligently; he prayed and preached, and gave alms, and toiled faithfully; not that he thought he would receive anything by work; he believed in salvation by faith only; but he did all the good he could, because it was a pleasure to him, reward or no reward. Reading was his regular Sunday work between Church services. He read the Bible, the Prayer Book, Johann Amdt's True Christianity, the postils of Luther, and all the rest. The disciples of Ahnan ben David, the so-called Karaim, or readers of the Mosaic faith, in the eighth century, could not have been more devoted to the written word than he was. II In the western part of the city there lived an industrious citizen named Carlsson. He was known as sober, reliable, and honest. Nevertheless, many pious souls regarded it as a scandal that he should be permitted to sojourn in their midst. His oldest girl had refused to be confirmed in the established church, to the great consternation of the faithful and the chagrin of the authorized and well-paid pilot of souls. Then, when there was an addition to the family, he refused to have the baby sprinkled in accordance with law and custom. He was fined, but that did not help. Terrible! To have heathens growing up in the very center of Christendom! Then, on one occasion, there was a great religious gathering in the city. Count Goldenstripe was the speaker, and everybody turned out to listen to the celebrated nobleman. Carlsson was there. At the close of the meeting, when everybody was in ecstasy, he had the impudence to ask the following question, "We have heard tonight that those who believe go to heaven when they die; where is the Scripture proof for that assertion?" A shiver went through the audience.

IN THE WORLD OF SPIRITS 113 The blasphemy! Then somebody shouted, "Throw the 'Mormon' out!" And there was no further discussion. , Carlsson was a "Mormon." He was a rope-maker by trade. Herr Pettersson, the sailmaker, patronized him. His work was without flaw. He used the best materials, and was painstaking in every detail. He was reliable. Whenever he promised to have a job done, he kept his word, and his accounts were always correct, but he was a "Mormon." And there could, of course, be no social intercourse between the two families. Said Mr. Pettersson to Mrs. Pettersson, one day, "It is a pity that that man should be a son of perdition." "Yes," Mrs. Pettersson sighed, "and that he should drag his entire family down with him!" "I think I must make an attempt to convert him," said Herr Pettersson. "I must free my conscience." Mrs. Pettersson said she was pleased that he felt that way. On Saturday night that week Mrs. Pettersson therefore sent Mrs. Carlsson, with her compliments, a basket containing a fat goose, some cookies and apples for the children, and some other articles of more or less value in a household. This was an excellent preliminary to the missionary effort that was to follow. To say that the gift caused wonder in the Carlsson home is to put it down very mildly. They knew nothing about the coming visit, and did not understand the fine diplomacy intended to prepare — the way the fine Italian hand, as it were, of Mrs. Pettersson. The following Sunday Herr Pettersson strutted off with his Bible under his arm on his missionary excursion. It would serve no purpose to give a lengthy report of the conversation that took place. Suffice it to say, that Herr Pettersson was cordially received, and that the two gentlemen talked till after midnight. Carlsson bore his testimony to the truth of the Book of Mormon and the divine calling of Joseph Smith as a prophet of God. Pettersson flew into a rage, as those who are on the wrong side generally do, and declared that his opponent would surely be damned, when he, Pettersson, should sing praises with the followers of the Lamb, for ever and ever. The two gentlemen separated, each praying God to snatch the other as a brand out of the fire. Ill We have already said that Herr Pettersson was a constant reader. He was not much of a student, only a reader. And — there is a great deal of difference about the same as between sorting peaches and eating them. The reader goes over the words and sentences mechanically. The student grasps the underlying meaning of the written word and makes it part of his own

114 IMPROVEMENT ERA thought. To study is exquisite pleasure; to read is wearisome labor. Herr Pettersson at this time, was a reader. One day he read the familiar story of Lazarus and Dives (Luke 16 19-31 : He knew it well. ) . Generally the thought of hell predominated in his mind when he perused this incomparable narrative; he fancied he saw Dives sizzling in flames, and then he reverently thanked his Maker that he, himself, was not a "vessel of wrath.'.' It was, of course, impossible that he, a highly respectable citizen, an immaculate church member, and a pillar of society, should come near enough to the shore of the fiery lake to even hear the moanings of the lost, but it was edifying to read the story now and then as a warning. This time, however, it was not hell that was photographed on his mind's eye, but Paradise. Paradise to him was heaven, the place where God, angels, and the few mortals who are saved, dwell. And there, in his mind's eye, he saw Lazarus in "the bosom" of Abraham. This puzzled him. Why did not Lazarus stand before the throne and play a harp? Why was he in Abraham's "bosom"? Did the Father of the Faithful hold him on his lap? If so, did he hold Lazarus alone, or were there others who were similarly honored, and, anyhow, how many grown-up persons could he hold at one time? Such questions, contrary to anything he had experienced before, forced themselves upon our dignified friend, at this time, and, in trying to find the correct answers, he spilt more than the usual quantity of highly scented snuff on his heaving bosom. But it was all in vain. He found no escape from the difficulties. Then he began to wonder if at death he, too, should be invited to sit in the lap of Abraham, or if that was a privilege reserved only for the good Hebrews, if there were any, something very doubtful, he thought. He could hardly hope to be honored with a place in the bosom of Abraham, he said to himself, but perhaps the man of God, Luther, or even the Apostle Paul, might notice him, for they were great on faith, and was not he, himself, saved by faith alone? The thought grew upon him. It took possession of him. IV The evening shadows fell rapidly and heavy. It had been a stormy autumn day, and the wind increased in strength as night drew near. The rain fell in torrents, and the old house trembled on its foundations. Herr Pettersson retired but could not sleep. He tossed from side to side, without finding the comfort he sought. He turned to the wall, but it seemed to recede from him, and he was gazing, he thought, into a dark expanse to which he could see

IN THE WORLD OF SPIRITS 115 no boundary. He turned on his back, only to find the ceiling repeat the performance of the wall. And then the wind moaned and whistled chromatic scales in every key, in the tree-tops and among the chimneys. How long our friend was kept on the rack by his thoughts, in this manner, he knew not. Finally, however, sleep overpowered him. And then he had a dream, which became the turning point of life. He believed in dreams, and therefore the Lord could speak to him in that language. It was one of those dreams that seem to be realities. He died. Immediately he passed the border line. There he was received by kind messengers, who covered his nakedness and took him to the home of his ancestors, where he met his parents and grandparents, and other near relatives and some friends, who had assembled in his honor. They all rejoiced exceedingly. He was provided with new clothes. Delicious fruit was set before him. He learned to understand the language spoken and to communicate his thoughts. He was gradually taught many things necessary in the great Beyond of which we in Mortality can have no conception. Then he was permitted to travel, "to see the world," as we should say. His guardian angel accompanied him, as his guide. To Herr Pettersson the world of spirits resembled the material world. There were many countries, or "kingdoms." There were cities and villages, lakes and rivers, fields and gardens, houses and mansions, temples and palaces, flowers and animals of great beauty and variety. The people were busy. Some were building, some were planting, some harvesting. Many were preaching on street corners and in assembly halls, and they all had large congregations. "Who are they?" Herr Pettersson asked. "They," his guide answered, "belong to the Church of the Firstborn, and they have been sent here to be ministering spirits to those who shall yet become heirs of salvation." "I am afraid," stammered Herr Pettersson, "that I do not comprehend you. Are we not in heaven? How can the word of salvation be preached here?" "No, brother!" the guide replied, "we are not in what mortals call 'heaven.' This is Hades." "What, hell!" Pettersson exclaimed, amazed and alarmed. "Yes, hell," the guide affirmed. "We are in the Sheol, or Hades, of the ancients; that is, in the world of spirits." During this conversation the travelers had approached a large assembly who had been listening to a discourse. The speaker had just finished when they stopped. But before the

116 IMPROVEMENT ERA crowd had begun to disperse a personage in the audience ascended the diminutive platform and began to speak. Said he: "Brothers and Sisters! We have heard an earnest and eloquent appeal in behalf of Prince Emmanuel for volunteers for his service,and promises of everlasting rewards. But consider the propositions made. We are asked to repent and give up almost everything that we like to do, and to 'crucify' our desires. My master offers you exaltation in his kingdom without any previous sacrifice. Join his forces, and we will overthrow Prince Emmanuel and his kingdom, and all his threats will become as nothing. "You say you like to pray. Very well! My master has composed a set of prayers which you can read every day. They are pretty and appropriate. You need not think while you read them. You can count them off on a string. "The whole system of voluntary service is wrong. Children are compelled to do right. Men and women are but grown-up children. My master knows this. And he proposes to compel all to attend worship and do right and thus bring about universal salvation without fail. Join my master's forces, the glorious army of Lucifer, the Son of the Morning." A few in the congregation acted on this appeal and followed Lucifer's messenger. "Where are they going?" asked Pettersson. "He takes them," the guide answered, "to the region of the Spirit World, at present occupied by the devil and his subjects, where they are being trained for the final conflict between him and the Son of God, and also for missionary work among the children of men in mortality. Some of them are trained in journalism; some in statesmanship. Some are studying theology and some are made proficient in all the arts and sciences of warfare." Herr Pettersson shuddered. "All," the guide continued, "are being carefully trained in — oratory the devil's oratory." "What kind of oratory is that?" Herr Pettersson asked. "That," the guide said, "is a very difficult art but one which is highly esteemed in the kingdom of Lucifer. He is the father of it. In its simplest form it is a denial of facts and nothing more. Even a child can master that part of it. In a higher stage of the art of the devil's orator has the ability of proving that black is white and white is black; that sin is virtue and virtue sin, and that truth is lie and lie truth. This is considered a great and useful accomplishment in the service of Lucifer, but the doctor degree is given only to those who can prove, by some sort of logical conjuror's trick, that their wicked deeds and follies were not committed by them, but by those who

IN THE WORLD OF SPIRITS 117 caught them in the very act. Lately, Lucifer has obtained a large contingent of mortals, who had made a specialty of all kinds of lying before crossing the River into this world." "What will become of them?" asked Herr Pettersson. "Unless they repent and are redeemed by Emmanuel, they will remain with the devil to the last," was the solemn reply of the guide. "They will then perish with him, as 'sons of perdition,' in the eternal fire, but 'the end thereof, neither the place thereof, nor their torment, no man knows.' " Our travelers now proceeded on their journey. Presently they came to a park in which there were all kinds of beautiful trees, bearing inviting fruit; also flowers that delighted the eye and filled the air with fragrance. There were animals of all kinds. Lions and tigers played gracefully, and lambs gamboled in an exuberance of joy. Bees hummed and gorgeously arrayed butterflies flitted from flower to flower. "This is Paradise," the guide said. "Paradise?" Pettersson repeated. "Yes, Paradise. You see," the guide explained, "this is the pattern of the Garden which God planted in the land of Eden. Adam knew this park well." Herr Pettersson and his guide entered the enclosure. No one prevented them, though there were guards at the entrance and at other places. There were a great many people there. Some seemed to be quite at home. They picked fruit and flowers. They entered the pavilions and reclined on the seats. Servants waited on them, and the guards saluted them when they passed. "These," the guide said, "belong to the Church of the First Born. They are of the King's household and invited guests." Others were only sightseers, like our friend and his guide. Herr Pettersson regarded the guests of the King with intense interest. They all shone with a peculiar brilliancy. They seemed to be transparent, so that their minds were in full view. Their thoughts could be read. And they were pure through and through. There was no "guile" in them. Their garments, as their flowing locks, were white as snow. Our wanderer eagerly looked for some familiar face among them, but in vain. Was not the Rev. Mr. Stonebluff, who died a few years ago, among the guests in Paradise? Or Mr. Hoffman, the revivalist? In answer to these questions, the guide shook his head and said, "I am afraid not; there are very few clergymen and revivalists in Paradise. There are many in the Prison." "Prison!" Mr. Pettersson exclaimed, "is there a prison, too?" "There is," the guide said. "It is not exactly what mortals call a 'prison.' It is a region of the spirit world in which

118 IMPROVEMENT ERA many are held for 'safe-keeping,' until the day of judgment. They are deprived of the privilege of associating with other and cannot influence them to disobedience. They are spirits left to deplore the loss of many opportunities, and in that frame of mind repentance is exceedingly difficult, though the gospel is being preached to them." While the guide explained the nature of the "prison," Mr. Pettersson's attention was attracted to a spirit in white robes, whose features appeared familiar to him. He strained his eyes, till they seemed to protrude from their sockets. "Is it possible? It cannot be. But it is!" The thoughts chased one another through his mind. "It is." Yes, it was an older brother of Mr. Carlsson. This brother had died a few years ago in poverty. He was a "Mormon" and had been ostracised on earth. And here he was draped in white, one of the King's guests, associating with the King's household! The greeting was cordial on both sides. But Carlsson had an appointment. He was on his way to the bancmet hall, where he was to attend a function in honor of Prince Emmanuel. Later there was to be a meeting in the Palm Grove, and Mr. Carlsson hoped to see Mr. Pettersson and his guide there. They attended. There was a large concourse seated under the majestic trees whose soft shadows gave the impression of peace and rest. On the platform there were a band and a choir, and when the pure voices blended with the sounds of reeds and- strings, of horns and drums and cymbals, in praise of Him who lives forever, the effect was as that of "many waters." Again and again the volume of sound rose in sweet harmony, "Alleluia! For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth. Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honor to Him for the marriage of the Lamb has come, : and his wife has made herself ready." Then a majestic form arose. He spoke amid deep silence. His features cannot be described, but they were indelibly impressed upon Herr Pattersson's mind. His voice was clear and musical; his gestures natural and simple. It was evident that he was a commanding figure in the world of spirits. And his sermon! He spoke of the Church in the desert, outlining the trials it had endured since the exodus from Nauvoo. This was incomprehensible to Herr Pettersson, who had never heard of Nauvoo. He went on to speak of the trials yet to come in the Valleys of the Mountains. But, he added, the Church will be triumphant and the gospel of the Redeemer will fill the world. He spoke about the great Council presided over by the Ancient of

IN THE WORLD OF SPIRITS 119 Days, on which occasion power and dominion were conferred upon the Son of Man, and pointed out that the decrees of that Council were about to be executed. Then he spoke about the Millennium. That, he said, will be the reign of peace, when temples will dot the surface of the Earth, in which representative work will be performed, until every spirit in the spirit world shall have an opportunity to enter into some degree of glory. Herr Pettersson did not understand a word. It is not easy in the spirit world to grasp new truths. The speaker then went on to explain different degrees of glory. There are, he said, in the world some who have received the testimony of Jesus, believed and been baptized and received the gift of the Holy Ghost; they have kept faith and been valiant to the last. They belong to the Church of the Firstborn; they are Priests and Kings, having received of God's glory; they are gods and the sons of God, and they are admitted to the presence of the Eternal Father, and his Son, and the Holy Spirit. They shall come forth in the resurrection of the just with celestial bodies, and shall reign with Christ on earth over his people. They shall mingle with angels and the Church of Enoch and the Firstborn, and enjoy celestial glory. But, he continued, there are many who die in ignorance of the gospel, and others who hear it but reject it until they hear it again in the world of spirits. Among them are honorable men, who are blinded by prejudices. When they receive the gospel, they are in a position to receive terrestrial bodies and to enter into the presence of the Son, but not to receive the fulness of the Father. Then, he said, there are a great many who do not receive the gospel on earth, nor the testimony of Jesus in the world of spirits, and yet do not deny the Holy Spirit. Many of them belong to apostate churches; some are liars, and sorcerers, and sinners against the laws of chastity. They, consequently, gather hi the kingdom of the devil and remain there until the second resurrection, when they receive a telestial glory. They are in touch with the Holy Spirit, for they have not denied him, "but where God and Christ dwell they cannot come, worlds without end." And yet, their glory surpasses all understanding. Each one shall receive, according to his works, "his own dominion, in the mansions which are prepared," and there "they shall be servants of the Most High." And their number is "as the stars in the firmament in heaven, or as the sand on the seashore." He closed his discourse. And the choir and the congregation sang, "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty! The heavens and the earth are full of thy glory."

120 IMPROVEMENT ERA After the meeting, Carlason had a long talk with Herr Pettersson, but the latter did not seem able to grasp the truths unfolded to him. Finally he asked, "Who was the speaker? To which the reply came, "Joseph Smith, the great Prophet of the Last Dispensation." V "Pettersson! Pettersson! Wake up! It is long past breakfast time!" It was Mrs. Pettersson's voice. She could not understand why he slept so long. Nothing like it had happened before during their married life. "Wake up!" she called again. Pettersson opened his eyes. "Did you say Joseph Smith?" he asked. "No, I said Pettersson," she answered. "Who are you talking about?" Pettersson, still only partly awake, saw his wife. "Are you here, too?" was his bewildered question. "Of course I am," Mrs. Pettersson replied; "where should I be, if not here?" "When did you die?" he asked next. "When did I die?" Mrs. Pettersson screamed. "I believe he is out of his mind." Pettersson sat up. There was no sign of Paradise. He grasped his head with both hands. The children now came into the room. They saw their mother crying and joined her, though not knowing why. "Am I not dead?" Herr Pettersson asked. "Is this not Sheol?" "No, dear!" Mrs. Pettersson assured him. You are alive and in your own home, and we are all alive. Do you not know your wife and children?" she cried bitterly. Herr Pettersson was fully awake by this time, and began to realize that he had just returned from Dreamland. He soon succeeded in reassuring his family and restoring calm and happiness. "Well, well!" he mused, "what a wonderful existence is ours! We live and dream and dream and live, and the question is, Which is the more real? The life we dream by day, or the dream we live by night? Herr Petterson was a changed man from that night. He now fully realized that he knew absolutely nothing of God's plan of salvation. He was humble and willing to learn. And he knew where to go for information. He hastened to the home of the rope-maker, the "Mormon," whose testimony he had despised but which had, nevertheless taken hold of his soul and given to his existence a new meaning. He heard again of