The Abolitionist
Do you know who John Woolman was? Few do. In 18th-century America, before the Revolutionary War, he was one of the most prominent colonists to speak out against slavery and recruit others to the abolitionist cause. His passion was more than simple moral outrage—it was rooted in a mystical sense of purpose.
Two and a half years before he died, Woolman fell gravely ill— “brought so near the gates of death that I forgot my name,” he later wrote in his journal. He wanted to know who he was, and observing around him over several hours, he noticed in his dreamlike state “a mass of matter of a dull gloomy color.” This was humanity in all its suffering, and he was mixed in with it so that he had no separate or distinct identity. Then at once came a sweet melodious voice—“more pure and harmonious than any I had heard with my ears before,” Woolman wrote.
“John Woolman is dead,” the voice said.
How could that be? This wasn’t some out-of-body experience. He knew where he was—in his sickbed. How could John Woolman be dead?
The vision continued. Woolman was spirited to the mines where the poor and oppressed were digging for rich treasures that were intended for so-called Christians. In their misery the workers blasphemed the name of Christ, “at which I grieved, for his name to me was precious,” Woolman wrote. The whole of his life, he had done all he could to reach out and rescue those who were suffering. How painful to hear Christ called a cruel tyrant.
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