"My Heavenly Vision."

Conversion of A. T. Schofield, M. D., London
I WAS in my fifteenth year in 1860, at the time of my conversion, and the experience known generally as the new birth has lasted with me for seventy years and has been the dominating power in my life. I think that event may be compared with Paul's experience on the way to Damascus, there being in his case as in mine, a definite turning point in life and which in spite of every effort to nullify its power, maintained its force through life. I will endeavor at any rate with accuracy and brevity to describe what actually occurred in my "heavenly vision."
At fifteen, one summer's evening, I arrived at Mr. Charles Hammer's Private Academy at 23 West Parade, Rhyl. As a new schoolboy, I went upstairs to get ready for dinner and found my bedroom. There were two beds, and the boy who was to occupy one, and who afterwards became the well-known head of one of our most popular missions, was busy dressing. Hearing me enter, he turned round, and having asked me if I was the new boy, said, with no further preamble, "Are you a Christian?"
I answered without hesitation. "No, I am not," for I knew well that he did not refer to my social or church position but to my real state before God, regarding which, being religiously brought up, I was quite clear nothing good could be said, and with whatever envious eyes I might regard those who had truly trusted their Saviour. I knew well I was not amongst the number.
The boy stared at me. "But would you not like to be one?" he asked timidly. "It's no use liking," I said scornfully; "I know well I never shall be a Christian."
"There's a prayer meeting to-night," he said; "would you not like to be prayed for?" "As to that," I replied in an airy manner, "they can just please themselves, for it will do me no atom of good; I've been prayed for often enough.''
As I had a slight cold, I went to bed early while they were all at this meeting. When my young mentor returned, I shammed sleep, for I wanted no more of his talk, so saying his prayers first, he soon turned in, and off he went to sleep. "That's all very well, my fine fellow," I said, glaring at him; "you go to sleep, and I cannot, for you're all right and I'm all wrong."
So, I lay and tossed, thinking it a strange thing that God should look down, as I truly believe He did, into that little room and see two boys on two beds, one all right and the other all wrong. I tossed about with uneasy snatches of sleep until nearly 2 A.M., asking myself why I couldn't quietly rest like that boy?
Suddenly, there came to my consciousness rather than to my mind, the words, "Because you won't take it," and then came my "heavenly vision," which after all was rather prosaic. "Take what?" I said. And as I lay in my bed, lo, I saw in my mind that I was very sick of a mortal disease, and that by the bedside was a table, and upon it a bottle of medicine which I was perfectly sure would cure me. And there was I asking, ''Why am I not cured? Why am I not cured" and the answer was, "Because you won't take it?" This seemed to me absolutely ridiculous. "My word," I said, "if that's all, I'll soon be well, for take it I will and now!"
And then I saw that my sickness meant my state, and that this alone was the cause of my sleeplessness. The remedy clearly was belief, true, personal belief in Christ my Saviour. "Well, if that's all," I said, "I won't wait another moment." But how was I to do it? Of course, I had known the Gospel story since I could speak, but it had never seemed to do me the least good. I could not "take it" as I could medicine, but I saw that "taking it" meant the act of "believing."
Then to my horror I saw that to believe in the medicine, could do me no good, and could never cure me, I must do more than believe in its value, I must "take it." So here was I at fifteen, plunged at 2 A.M. into divine metaphysics. But the Spirit of God was hovering over that young boy, for I thought, "I cannot do better then than to settle it now."
So, I knelt up in my bed, and solemnly and from my heart said aloud, "O God! I take Thy Son, Jesus Christ, to be my Saviour this night," and feeling I could do no more, I dropped asleep. The crisis was over.
When I came down to breakfast, I still felt pretty much as usual, although conscious that I had undoubtedly taken an irrevocable step in the night. Still, I was surprised I did not feel as happy as I supposed I ought to feel.
The other boys had left the table, and the master came and sat by my side. "We were praying for you last night," he said; "I'm so sorry you are not a Christian."
Now then, what on earth was I to do? I didn't feel particularly like a Christian; but then I had told God something in the night that I was determined not to go back on. I was in a terrible dilemma; when in a moment the Holy Spirit flashed into my mind the words, "If thou shalt believe in thy heart and confess with thy mouth, thou shalt be saved." I had clearly done the first; it only remained with me to do the second. So without one particle of feeling I said, "But I am one."
"You are a Christian?" the master said incredulously, “but you told us you were not!"
"No more, I was last night," I said.
"But when did you become one?" he said, completely puzzled.
"About 2 o'clock this morning," I replied.
"But who spoke to you?" he asked.
"No one," I said, and then after a pause, "unless it was God."
"But what happened?" So I told him all and then demanded if that made me a Christian.
"It does," he said, and immediately I was filled and flooded with a wave of joy, perfectly indescribable. I rushed out of the house, threw my cap into the air, and ran round and round the playground to let off, as it were, some of the steam. I then stood still and looked at myself critically. "What, you," I said, "a Christian! It can't be you!" Yes. indeed, it was myself, incredible as it appeared but now the ego was a new self. I don't know that I felt either pious or good. But one thing was certain, whereas I was blind, now I could see; I was lost, now I was saved. And now I must hurry up and get others saved too. Such were my first thoughts.
No doubt, all this seems very childish to the superior person, but it really was not. It was supernatural and Divine, and its after-effects on two lives—my brother's and my own—through long years of stress and trouble proved its Divine origin and character.
Accomplished in a moment, it has endured a lifetime, and I feel sure the more thoughtful of my readers will not dismiss a true record of an experience which has changed a man's entire life as unworthy of serious consideration.
I have mentioned my brother. He was at home at that time, and remembering this, off I went to my desk, and on some miniature notepaper, I wrote words that almost scorched the page. I implored him then and there, without delay to take Christ as I had done, for his Saviour. My mother found him walking up and down the dining room with my little letter in his hand, and his tears falling thick upon it. She soon was able to make all clear to him, and that night, he wrote me a little note that all was well. My letter was returned to me at his death, when he had become for years a well-known missionary in Inland China, over thirty years after, amongst his treasured effects; and doubtless was the beginning of his remarkable career. [Robert Harold A. Schofield] *
As for myself, it would be wearisome to dwell on my great joy. I felt as a bird let loose, and I wanted all others to be free and happy too. I never travel, even now, by the Irish Mail, but I look down on that line of railway cottages outside Rhyl, where, having changed all my money into little Gospel books, I went, as a small school boy, from door to door trying to make others as happy as myself.
(The writer of the above was a noted Harley St., physician of London, England. Hon. Physician to the Friedenheim Hospital and author of several worthy books amongst us.)
* Memorials of R. Harold A. Schofield by his brother A. T. Schofield, M.D. 1898
“Words in Season” 1969