We sympathize with you in your bereavement and widowhood. I have passed over the ground that you are now traveling, and know what it means. How much sorrow there is in our world! How much grief! How much weeping! It is not right to say to the bereaved ones, “Do not weep; it is not right to weep.” Such words have little consolation in them. There is no sin in weeping. Although the one who passes away has been for years a sufferer because of weakness and pain, yet that does not wipe away the tears from our eyes.
(RY 158.1)
Our loved ones die. Their accounts with God are sealed up. But while we consider it a serious, solemn thing to die, we must consider it a much more solemn thing to live. Every day of life is freighted with responsibilities which we must bear. Our individual interests, our words, our actions, are making impressions upon those with whom we are connected. We are to find our consolation in Jesus Christ. Precious Saviour! He was ever touched with human woe.... Cling to the Source of your strength.—Selected Messages 2:264.
(RY 158.2)
The Lord to Be Your Comfort
Dear Sister,
(RY 158)
A letter has just been placed in my hands from Sister G, giving an account of your bereavement. I deeply sympathize with you, my sister. If I were where I could visit you, I would do so....
(RY 158.3)
I will say to you, my sister, the Lord would not have you grieve in sadness. Your husband has been spared to you many years longer than I supposed he would be. God has mercifully spared him, and mercifully, after much suffering, has let him rest in Jesus.... Your husband and my husband are at rest. They have no more pain, no more suffering. They are at rest.
(RY 159.1)
I am sorry, my sister, that you are in affliction and sorrow. But Jesus, the precious Saviour, lives. He lives for you. He wants you to be comforted in His love. Do not worry; trust in the Lord.... Do not complain. Do not mourn and weep. Do not look on the dark side. Let the peace of God reign in your soul. Then you will have strength to bear all your sufferings, and you will rejoice that you have grace to endure. Praise the Lord; talk of His goodness; tell of His power. Sweeten the atmosphere which surrounds your soul.
(RY 159.2)
Do not dishonor God by words of repining, but praise Him with heart and soul and voice. Look on the bright side of everything. Do not bring a cloud or shadow into your home. Praise Him who is the light of your countenance and your God. Do this, and see how smoothly everything will go.—Selected Messages 2:266, 267.
(RY 159.3)
Ellen White in Her Hour of Bereavement
In my recent bereavement, I have had a near view of eternity. I have, as it were, been brought before the great white throne, and have seen my life as it will there appear. I can find nothing of which to boast, no merit that I can plead. “Unworthy, unworthy of the least of Thy favors, O my God,” is my cry. My only hope is in a crucified and risen Saviour. I claim the merits of the blood of Christ. Jesus will save to the uttermost all who put their trust in Him.
(RY 159.4)
It is sometimes hard for me to preserve a cheerful countenance when my heart is rent with anguish. But I would not permit my sorrow to cast a gloom upon all around me. Seasons of affliction and bereavement are often rendered more sorrowful and distressing than they should be, because it is customary to give ourselves up to mourning without restraint. By the help of Jesus, I determined to shun this evil; but my resolution has been severely tested.
(RY 160.1)
My husband’s death was a heavy blow to me, more keenly felt because so sudden. As I saw the seal of death upon his countenance, my feelings were almost insupportable. I longed to cry out in my anguish. But I knew that this could not save the life of my loved one, and I felt that it would be unchristian to give myself up to sorrow. I sought help and comfort from above, and the promises of God were verified to me. The Lord’s hand sustained me. It is a sin to indulge, without restraint, in mourning and lamentation. By the grace of Christ, we may be composed and even cheerful under sore trial.
(RY 160.2)
Let us learn a lesson of courage and fortitude from the last interview of Christ with His apostles. They were about to be separated. Our Savior was entering the blood-stained path which would lead Him to Calvary. Never was scene more trying than that through which He was soon to pass. The apostles had heard the words of Christ foretelling His sufferings and death, and their hearts were heavy with sorrow, their minds distracted with doubt and fear. Yet there were no loud outcries; there was no abandonment of grief. Those last solemn, momentous hours were spent by our Saviour in speaking words of comfort and assurance to His disciples, and then all united in a hymn of praise.—Selected Messages 2:267, 268.
(RY 160.3)
Ellen Dreams of James Shortly After His Death
A few days since, I was pleading with the Lord for light in regard to my duty. In the night I dreamed I was in the carriage, driving, sitting at the right hand. Father was in the carriage, seated at my left hand. He was very pale, but calm and composed. “Why Father,” I exclaimed, “I am so happy to have you by my side once more! I have felt that half of me was gone. Father, I saw you die; I saw you buried. Has the Lord pitied me and let you come back to me again, and we work together as we used to?”
(RY 161.1)
He looked very sad. He said, “The Lord knows what is best for you and for me. My work was very dear to me. We have made a mistake. We have responded to urgent invitations of our brethren to attend important meetings. We had not the heart to refuse. These meetings have worn us both more than we were aware. Our good brethren were gratified, but they did not realize that in these meetings we took upon us greater burdens than at our age we could safely carry. They will never know the result of this long-continued strain upon us. God would have had them bear the burdens we have carried for years. Our nervous energies have been continuously taxed, and then our brethren misjudging our motives and not realizing our burdens have weakened the action of the heart. I have made mistakes, the greatest of which was in allowing my sympathies for the people of God to lead me to take work upon me which others should have borne.
(RY 161.2)
“Now, Ellen, calls will be made as they have been, desiring you to attend important meetings, as has been the case in the past. But lay this matter before God and make no response to the most earnest invitations. Your life hangs as it were upon a thread. You must have quiet rest, freedom from all excitement and from all disagreeable cares. We might have done a great deal for years with our pens, on subjects the people need that we have had light upon and can present before them, which others do not have. Thus you can work when your strength returns, as it will, and you can do far more with your pen than with your voice.”
(RY 162.1)
He looked at me appealingly and said, “You will not neglect these cautions, will you, Ellen? Our people will never know under what infirmities we have labored to serve them because our lives were interwoven with the progress of the work, but God knows it all. I regret that I have felt so deeply and labored unreasonably in emergencies, regardless of the laws of life and health. The Lord did not require us to carry so heavy burdens and many of our brethren so few. We ought to have gone to the Pacific Coast before, and devoted our time and energies to writing. Will you do this now? Will you, as your strength returns, take your pen and write out these things we have so long anticipated, and make haste slowly? There is important matter which the people need. Make this your first business. You will have to speak some to the people, but shun the responsibilities which have borne us down.”
(RY 162.2)
“Well,” said I, “James, you are always to stay with me now and we will work together.” Said he, “I stayed in Battle Creek too long. I ought to have gone to California more than one year ago. But I wanted to help the work and institutions at Battle Creek. I have made a mistake. Your heart is tender. You will be inclined to make the same mistakes I have made. Your life can be of use to the cause of God. Oh, those precious subjects the Lord would have had me bring before the people, precious jewels of light!”
(RY 163.1)
I awoke. But this dream seemed so real. Now you can see and understand why I feel no duty to go to Battle Creek for the purpose of shouldering the responsibilities in General Conference. I have no duty to stand in General Conference. The Lord forbids me. That is enough.—Letter 17, 1881.
(RY 163.2)
Vows to Carry On After Husband’s Death
During this severe attack of sickness [experienced in Oakland, California, in 1888] I had vividly brought to my remembrance the experience I passed through when my husband was dying. I prayed with him in my great feebleness on that occasion. I sat by his side with his hand in mine until he fell asleep in Jesus. The solemn vows I there made to stand at my post of duty were deeply impressed upon my mind—vows to disappoint the enemy, to bear a constant, earnest appeal to my brethren of the cruelty of their jealousies and evil surmisings which were leavening the churches. I would appeal to them to love one another, to keep their hearts tender by the remembrance of the love of Jesus exercised toward them, in what He did for them. And He said, “Love one another, as I have loved you” (John 15:12). I never can express with pen or voice the work that I discerned was laid out before me on that occasion when I was beside my dying husband. I have not lost the deep views of my work, as I sat by the bed of my husband with his dying hand in mine.— Manuscript 21, 1888.
(RY 163.3)
Ellen White Reflects on James White’s Death
After my husband died, one of our brethren, who thought a great deal of him, said, “Do not let them bury him, but pray to the Lord that He may bring him to life again.” I said, “No, no, although I realize my great loss, I will not do this,” I felt that he had done his work. No one but myself knew how great a load he had carried in the efforts we had put forth to advance the truth. He had done the work of three men.
(RY 164.1)
Night after night, at the beginning of our work, when advancement seemed to be hindered on every hand, he would say, “Ellen, we must pray. We must not let go until we realize the power of God.” He would lie awake for hours, and say, “Oh, Ellen, I am so afflicted. Will you pray for me, that I may not fail or be discouraged.” Together we offered up our prayers, with strong crying and tears, until from his lips came the words, “Thank the Lord; He has spoken peace to me. I have light in the Lord. I will not fail. I will press the battle to the gates.” Would I have him suffer all this over again? No, no. I would in no case call him from his restful sleep to a life of toil and pain. He will rest until the morning of the resurrection.
(RY 164.2)
My husband died in 1881. During the time that has passed since then, I have missed him constantly. For one year after his death, I felt my loss keenly, until the Lord, when I was at the gates of death, healed me instantly. This was at a camp meeting held at Healdsburg, about a year after my husband’s death. Since that time I have been willing to live, or willing to die, just as the Lord sees I can best glorify Him.—Letter 396, 1906.
(RY 165.1)