Читать книгу Bipolar WINTER - Samuel David Steiner - Страница 3

Low Hampton, New York

October 1844

William Miller cried as he watched the sun rise over his farm. The crisp morning air threatened to freeze the tears to his face, but he hardly noticed. For the last twenty-two years, he had devoted his life to teaching his followers, the Millerites, the truth.

It has to be the truth. It is right there, in the Bible. So why? More tears slipped down his cheeks as he choked back a sob.

“Unto two thousand and three hundred days; then shall the sanctuary be cleansed,” Miller recited Daniel 8:14 again. It was clear as day. Jesus would be coming to cleanse the Earth, purifying the world of all evil. The exact date had been carefully calculated, taking into account all possible factors. He believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that the day of Christ's Second Coming would reward his followers and punish the sinners of the world.

That day was yesterday.

So why, Lord? He threw his hands into the air in frustration. There were no errors in the calculations, no misinterpretation of scripture. Christ simply did not come. The reason was beyond Miller’s ability to comprehend. He knew in his heart that Christ would be coming. Soon. He felt it, believed it with every fiber of his being. But after this failed prediction, no one would listen to him any longer. He would be labeled a charlatan.

I will need to disappear, find a quiet place to live out my days.

Remorse filled him as he looked around the farm. This latest setback had not shaken his faith, but he feared the disappointment would be too great for his followers and cause many to lose their way.

Miller’s gaze rose toward the ridgepole of his large red barn. Squinting into the sunrise, he could make out some of his parishioners, dressed in white robes—ascension robes—gathering along the peak of the roof.

Puzzled, he left his front porch and headed toward the barn. Why are they still here? And still dressed in their robes?

Then the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he picked up his pace. No, they mustn’t.

Thousands of Millerites had gathered around Low Hampton the previous day, all dressed in white robes to make the transition to Heaven easier. Some had climbed onto rooftops, while others had hiked into the surrounding hills, all fully expecting the world to be engulfed in flames. But with the dawning of this new day, all their hopes and expectations had been crushed.

Just as he reached the barn, one man leapt from the roof, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. William gasped then rushed toward the crumpled form. “No!” he screamed as another jumped. One by one, bodies continued to rain down around him, shaking the earth beneath his feet with each impact. “Stop!” he begged, falling to his knees. “No! Please, God! No!”

Was this punishment for his mistake? To watch helplessly as each parishioner, each child of God, plummeted to their death?

When at last silence fell, Miller forced himself to his feet. Thirty dead bodies lay strewn across the damp grass, each with white foam oozing from the mouth. Finding a small vial still clutched in one lifeless hand, Miller picked it up and sniffed. Bitter almond. They had poisoned themselves to ensure they would not survive the fall.

Fresh tears filled his eyes, clouding his vision. Grief and frustration cramped his stomach and he retched into a nearby shrub. Unable to face his fallen brethren, he stumbled onto his porch and slumped into a rocking chair. Shivers racked his body as waves of sorrow washed over him. Where did I go wrong? Why did Christ not come? Has Christ forsaken us?

Feeling as helpless as a child, he watched as other parishioners silently gathered the bodies and carted them away for burial. Slowly, the sun warmed him as it climbed higher in the clear autumn sky, yet he remained slumped and lifeless in his chair. His stomach rumbled, the emptiness adding to his nausea.

He still had not moved when around midday a small figure dressed in white walked across the lawn toward him. Forcing his hazy vision to focus, Miller finally recognized the young woman as Ellen Harmon. He closed his eyes and said a brief prayer of gratitude that she had not taken her life like so many others. He loved Ellen as if she were his own daughter. Seeing her lifted his spirits immeasurably. She was beautiful to him, despite her disfigured face.

When she was nine, a classmate had thrown a rock at her, leaving her comatose for nearly a month and scarring her for life. When she finally awoke, she prayed incessantly, asking Jesus for guidance. Three years later, her family joined Miller’s congregation.

He remembered that day as if it were yesterday. She was so innocent, so willing to turn herself over to God. And despite her youth, she was driven by fear for her immortal soul.

She reminds me so much of myself .

As she approached, William stood up from his chair, his legs aching. He waited until she was within hearing range before saying, “Hello.”

“Good morning,” she greeted him quietly.

“No…it is not,” he choked out, trying to keep the grief from consuming him again.

She stopped at the bottom of the porch steps and peered up at him. “I am sorry. Truly, I am, but I have something to share with you.”

“What is it?” he asked, fearing she brought more bad news. She seemed surprisingly calm, considering the morning’s events.

“May I join you?”

He nodded, gesturing to the rocking chair next to his. “I am so glad to see you,” he said, feeling guilty for taking comfort from her presence when so many had suffered due to his mistake.

“I had a vision.”

He gaped at her as she climbed the steps and settled into the rocking chair. She has been visited by God? Could she have the answer? Has God told her how I went wrong?

He quickly returned to his seat and leaned toward her against the arm rest. “Please, tell me,” he breathed. “Do not leave out any detail.”

“It was while I was visiting some sisters. We were praying together just before sunrise when I felt the power of God wash over me. It was a feeling like nothing I had ever felt before—one I will never forget.” She glanced up, her eyes bright with the memory. “His love and wisdom filled me, and I felt myself rising into the heavens, away from Earth. Me. Not my body, but my spirit. I was shown the Advent People. They were going to the New Jerusalem, the place of eternal joy.”

William gazed at her then sighed. “I always knew you were special,” he murmured, pride filling him. “You are a prophetess.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Perhaps that was God’s answer—that she was the one to lead the righteous, not him.

“I am so sorry,” he blurted out. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“What is to forgive?”

William dropped his head into his hands. “I failed my people. I failed you.”

“You did not fail anyone,” she said gently.

“But so many…” He swallowed hard then tried again. “So many killed themselves.”

A single tear fell from her eye, and she wiped it away with her slender fingers. “I heard. My heart breaks for them, but that was not God’s plan. They were weak of mind and spirit, and I will pray for their salvation.”

“But I was their leader,” he choked. “It is my responsibility—”

“You did not fail your people,” she repeated. “They failed you.”

Startled by her statement, he straightened and looked at her. “How so?”

“They should trust you, despite what happened. You are a great man,” she responded, her kind eyes studying him. Then suddenly, her brows furrowed. “You know something, do you not? God gave you vital information and you did not act on it. Why?”

William’s body trembled. How does she know that?

She stared at him, her unrelenting eyes penetrating his. “I know because Jesus told me, during my vision. He told me that you would guide me one last time.”

One last time? He had suspected he was not long for this world. And if God had deemed his time was at hand, he resolved to spend every last moment he had helping Ellen bring the truth to the people.

“It is true,” he said with renewed hope. “I was given some documents, but I did not realize their importance, and only kept them hidden for fear of my family’s safety. But I will share everything I know with you.”

“Not now, but soon.” Standing, she turned to face him. “You will come to me, at my home, in four months’ time. That is when and where it will be.”

William stared up at her. How can she be so confident, so sure, when she is only sixteen years old? At sixty-two, he often felt as feeble as a spring lamb. Especially today.

“I will visit you in February then,” he said, standing.

Over the next few months, his failure to predict the second coming of Christ became heralded as The Great Disappointment. However, the public scrutiny could not shake his faith. Miller knew now that God had different plans for him, and he was determined to see them through to the best of his ability.

He prayed daily for the souls lost due to his error and continued to study the Bible voraciously. He read through the stack of hidden documents over and over again, taking notes for his upcoming meeting with Ellen, making sure to put the documents back in their hiding spot each night.

The documents had been given to him by William Morgan, a man Miller had met when visiting his second cousin, David, in Batavia, New York nearly twenty years prior. At the time, Miller was a Freemasontrying to ensure David’s initiation into a local lodge. David had received the apprentice degree, the lowest grade of Freemasonry, but could not advance beyond that. Disgruntled, David had met and befriended Morgan, who had been denied admission entirely.

Embittered by the rejection, Morgan decided to publish a book, exposing secret Freemasonic rituals. As a newspaper publisher, David agreed to print the book. Concerned the Freemasons might seek retribution, William Miller pleaded with his cousin to discard the project. But David was eager to embarrass the lodge that had rejected him and insisted on moving forward.

To ease his cousin’s concerns, David suggested he share a meal with Morgan and his family. Over the course of the evening, Morgan expressed great interest in Miller’s religious beliefs, asking many questions while offering very little in return. Feeling annoyed by the one-sided discussion, Miller excused himself from the table and went outside to get some fresh air. He wished he had declined Morgan’s invitation.

Morgan joined him on the front porch soon after.

“I apologize,” Morgan said from behind him.

William tensed. Great. What other information is he going to try to pry out of me?

“You do not like me very much, do you?”

“No,” Miller replied flatly. He felt slightly guilty for being rude to the man, but he did not believe in lying either.

“I understand.” Morgan stepped forward to stand beside his guest at the porch railing. “You are a Freemason and you consider me to be a traitor.”

“Of course I do,” Miller said through gritted teeth. “We all took an oath of secrecy when we joined the lodge. Now, you are dragging my cousin into this quagmire!”

“I never joined,” Morgan said softly. He kept his gaze fixed on the dark expanse of lawn before them. “So, I never swore such an oath.”

“Then how did you learn of our secrets?”

“I cannot say,” Morgan replied, “but there are those within your organization who disagree with the credos of the Freemasons.”

“Then they are the traitors.” Feeling somewhat mollified, Miller turned to leave.

“Wait. I have something I would like to give you. I think you will need it,” Morgan said.

Miller stopped in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder at Morgan. “I think not.”

“You may not like me, but this meeting was not by happenstance. You need me.”

William Miller barked a laugh. “More like you need money for your book!”

“Actually, your cousin is paying me a small fortune as an advance, so I am settled on that score,” Morgan said with a grin. “I am not interested in your money.”

Miller stared at him. Then what exactly is he after? What game is he playing?

Morgan sighed. “I am just giving you a gift. Will you accept it?”

Not until his conversation with Ellen nearly twenty years later did William Miller understand why he had accepted the small packet of papers from Morgan that day. It had all been part of God’s plan.

When Morgan went missing right before his book, Illustrations of Masonry, was published, Miller suspected there might be a clue in the packet of documents and finally opened it. To Miller’s surprise, the information contained in the papers had nothing to do with Morgan’s book.

Morgan had been imprisoned several months prior for unpaid debts, but Miller found that suspicious, as did many others. When David Miller paid the debts, more unpaid debts surfaced, and Morgan was arrested again. This time another man paid the debts, but shortly after his release, Morgan was captured by two men and was never seen again.

Soon after, William Miller left the Freemasons, despite having achieved the high rank of Grand Master of the Morning Star Lodge in Poultney. Not only did he have suspicions about the Freemasons’ involvement in Morgan’s disappearance, but their beliefs conflicted with his faith, and he felt he should focus his attention on his expanding congregation and the Second Coming of Christ.

Many rumors circulated concerning Morgan’s disappearance, but Miller believed he had been silenced by the Freemasons. Publishing his book had essentially signed his death warrant. The book exposed many of the Freemasons’ secrets—secrets group members, himself included, had sworn to keep under penalty of death. In fact, many of the rituals practiced at each meeting centered around a particular oath to exact retribution should anyone ever reveal the secrets.

Miller shuddered to think of the torture Morgan must have endured.

He had kept Morgan’s packet of papers tucked safely between the slats in the floor of his trunk at the foot of his bed. He never saw any use for them in his sermons but could not bring himself to dispose of them either. While the information contained in them was religious in nature, it did not fit with the truth he knew regarding of the Second Coming of Christ. The papers laid out the blueprint for something called Septem Montes, describing in great detail how seven distinct sects of Christianity would diverge from the Catholic Church.

After Ellen’s visit, however, everything changed. He was positive Ellen would know how to use the papers to guide his people into the next phase of existence. He still did not understand their relevance to his role on Earth, but Miller had faith that, together with Ellen, the papers would help him execute God’s will.

In February, Miller visited Ellen Harmon at her home in Maine. He brought the packet of documents with him, eager to see what she would make of them.

When she opened the door, he dropped to his knees on her front porch. Her entire body was glowing with a soft white aura.

“You have had another vision?”

She nodded. “Yes. It is now clear to me that I am to start a new church, one that will continue your legacy well beyond your lifetime and mine. But I need your help. Without you, I will not be able to create this movement of truth.”

Rising to his feet, Miller pressed his hand to his heart. “I am here for you and my people. Just tell me how I may help.”

“Good!” she exclaimed, ushering him into her small parlor.

Settling into a chair by the glowing fireplace, he pulled the packet of papers from his satchel. “I have brought the package.”

“May I see?”

He handed the papers to her then sat forward, warming himself while she read through them.

For half the day she remained engrossed in study, not breaking, even to eat, until she had absorbed all of the information contained in the papers.

“So, our mission is now clear,” she said finally, laying the papers in her lap.

“How so? How does this Septem Montes relate to us?”

Ellen motioned for him to sit next to her on the settee. “The Catholic Church has already formed six of the seven sects outlined here, but it is waiting to unfold the seventh much later. However, God has another plan, one the Catholic Church is not privy to.”

“But we are,” William said excitedly. “Are we going to build the seventh church?”

“Yes,” Ellen said with a smile. “Your followers have disbanded, but we can easily recover many of them. They will flock to this new church, the seventh one, and we will lead them toward the truth.”

Miller’s excitement faded. They disbanded because of me. Certainly they would want nothing to do with him after his failure. “Is it wise to include me?” he asked hesitantly. “My tarnished reputation will surely be a hindrance. Perhaps I should just stay in the background.”

“No,” she said gently. “I need you. God needs you.” She laid a hand over his. “You still have work to do. Your reputation is what you make of it. You would be surprised at how resilient people can be.”

“But…can I not just advise you?”

“No. You must be next to me, by my side as we form this church.”

Miller nodded reluctantly. He still feared that his reputation would deter many from the truth, but he had faith in Ellen. “Very well. What is your plan?”

“Before I tell you, I first need to know that you are committed. Will you continue to lead your people with the same passion you have always had?”

“Yes,” he said, straightening. “Of course, I will.”

“Good, because I do not believe you were wrong at all.”

A glimmer of hope flickered inside him. “I was not wrong?” To have cost the lives of so many had been such a crushing disappointment, but if there were a chance he had been right, Miller would have a new lease on life.

“No,” she said. “I believe Christ was indeed here on October 22nd, but He did not make Himself known. The event you predicted did in fact occur, just not as expected. And now we need to proceed forward.”

“You saw this in a vision?”

She nodded.

“And?” Miller asked, his excitement returning. “What is the next step?”

Ellen leaned forward to look him directly in his eye. “We need to gather all our people in one place and have a conference. I also need to study all the papers you have given me in depth.”

“How will we organize such a meeting?” Miller asked.

“The word has already been spread. We will meet mid-April in Albany.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “You never cease to amaze me.”

She smiled then stood to pace before the fireplace, the papers still clutched in her hands. “There is one question I have, though.”

“Yes?”

“You actually met William Morgan, correct?”

“That is correct.”

“And his wife?”

He nodded. “Yes. On the one occasion that I dined with Morgan, his wife, Lucinda, and their two children were there.”

“Do you know what happened to her when Morgan died?”

Confused, Miller shook his head. “I never thought about it.”

“She married Joseph Smith.” She turned to face him.

Miller’s eyebrows rose. “The heretic who called himself a prophet? Founder of the Mormons?”

“Yes.”

“But her husband hated Smith almost as much as I did,” he said in disbelief.

“It was an odd choice, I grant you,” she said, shaking her head.

“I believe Joseph Smith was a Freemason, too.”Why would Morgan’s widow marry a man associated with the secret society Morgan had tried to expose? It does not make sense.

She nodded. “And a polygamist. Lucinda was his third wife.”

William thought for a moment. The union seemed calculated to him, but to what end he had no idea. What would Lucinda Morgan possibly have to gain? Or maybe, it was Smith who had something to gain.

Ellen flipped through the pages in her hands, drawing her friend’s attention. “I often wondered why Morgan chose to give me the papers instead of passing them on to his family,” he said. “I do not even know how he came to possess them in the first place.” Certainly the Catholic Church would not want such sensitive documents falling into the wrong hands.

“I believe he had a reason,” she said, beginning to pace again. “We can assume no one knows he gave them to you, but I still think we should be cautious. Now that I possess them, they will find new purpose and will likely attract new attention as we build our church.” She stopped and turned to face him. “We will need to proceed carefully.”

William Miller and Ellen Harmon presented a united front at the Albany Conference. Sixty-one people attended, but not everyone agreed with the new direction. Those who followed Miller and Harmon that day became the first members of their new church.

Having done what he was destined to do, Miller kept to himself, praying constantly in his final days. He also spent a fair amount of time studying the Bible, reporting to Ellen what he had learned during her frequent visits to his farm in Low Hampton.

A week before Christmas 1849, Ellen arrived at Miller’s home for her usual visit. They sipped cups of tea in front of the fire as they shared recent discoveries and discussed the church’s progress.

Ellen set down her cup and took William’s hand in hers. “Your time on Earth is almost over,” she said softly.

Miller felt a chill creep up his spine, and he nodded. “I sense it, too.”

Rubbing his arm fondly, she said, “As time passes, I feel more secure in my safety. I do not think anyone knows I have the papers. Or if they do, they do not care.”

“Keep vigilant,” he said. “I am not so sure they are not watching you.”

“I promise to be careful.” She gave him a soft smile. “But remember, I am protected.”

“That you are.” He knew without a doubt that God would not call her home until her work was completed.

“I had another vision three days ago,” she said, leaning into him as if sharing a secret with her best friend.

He looked at her, the excitement he felt every time she shared one of her visions with him returning. “And what was it?”

“The Lord Jesus came to me and guided me up to the heavens. There, He showed me His intentions for our church.”

“What did He show you?”

“There are many details, but two I want to share with you today. One is Sabbath keeping. We must not only observe the true seventh day of the week, Saturday, as the day of rest and worship, but we must make it a purpose of our new church. Our Lord and Savior was very clear about that.”

Miller nodded. “It is what the Bible states.”

“Yes, and we are the messengers. It is our purpose to see God’s Will done on Earth. We are the Sabbath keepers. In fact, our church name will guide our people and be a constant reminder of this doctrine. We shall be known as the Seventh-day Adventists.”

Miller sighed in relief. He had feared he would not see the completion of their goal before his time came. Yet, here he was, witnessing the birth of something important in the hands of this young woman. “It is the seventh church of Septem Montes.”

“Yes,” she said. “We will need to lay out the fundamental beliefs of our church, and it will take time to form, but in the end, we will be the leader of all Christian faiths.”

He nodded then took another sip of tea. “What was the other point you wanted to tell me from your vision?”

Ellen took his hands in hers. "As I said before, you were right. October 22, 1844 was a pivotal point for every man, woman, and child here on Earth. It marked the start of the Investigative Judgment in Heaven. Everything we do in this life is recorded and kept in Heaven. We will all be judged by our Lord Jesus Christ when He sees fit to judge us. On October 22nd, Jesus entered a new realm in Heaven, a most sacred and Holy Place, and the full investigation began.”

Miller stared at her in awe. “The Lord told you this?”

She smiled. “Yes, He did. He also instructed me to make sure that your name goes down in history as a founder of the Advent Movement and the Seventh-day Adventist Church. You will be revered throughout the ages and have secured your place in Heaven.”

Miller’s hands trembled in hers as he broke into tears. “Thank you. Oh, thank you!”