Part 1

F R I E D R I C H Z U E N D E L

O N E

M A N ' S

B A T T L E

W I T H

D A R K N E S S Awakening

T H E

Friedrich Zuendel

THE AWAKENING

O N E M A N ' S

B A T T L E W I T H

D A R K N E S S

T H E P L O U G H P U B L I S H N G H O U S E

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The Awakening is based on three chapters ("Der Kampf," "Die Bussbewegung," and "Die Wunder") from Friedrich Zuendel's biography Johann Christoph Blumhardt, Zürich, Verlag S. Höhr, 1880.

Used with permission.

Front Cover Photograph: © Eric Rank/Photonica

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C O N T E N T S

P r e f a c e 6

I T H E F I G H T

I I T H E AWA K E N I N G

I I I M I R AC L E S

According to oral tradition, the words on the plaque opposite mysteriously appeared, painted, on a shutter of Gottliebin Dittus's house in the village of Möttlingen during her fight against demonic powers, 1841–1843. The plaque itself, which was made later, still hangs on the house. The text reads:

Mensch: bedenk die Ewigkeit,

und spotte nicht der Gnadenzeit,

denn das Gericht ist nicht mehr weit.

Man: think on eternity,

and do not mock the time of grace,

for judgment is not far off.

P R E FAC E

Though relatively unknown to many readers, Johann Christoph Blumhardt (1805–1880) is widely recognized in his native Germany, perhaps because of his landmark biography, which appeared the year he died and still remains in print. The terrifying psychic phenomena described in it catapulted his parish into the public eye and still draw streams of curious visitors to it, one hundred and fifty years later.

The central fact of Blumhardt's life, however, was not his involvement in demonic struggle as such, but the childlike faith that led him into it – namely, his belief in the reality of the age-old battle between good and evil, and in a Jesus who was not only an historical figure, but a living reality whose cosmic power can be felt and experienced still today.

This faith embarrassed Blumhardt's contemporaries, so much so that his nervous superiors tried to suppress him by restricting his pastoral work. It is even more suspect in our time, when scientific progress has rendered rationalism the only acceptable faith for thinking people, and the untidy mysteries of the supernatural are relegated to talk shows and fiction shelves. Mention God, or Satan, and you're sure to evoke winces or worse.

For Blumhardt, there was no question about it: good and evil truly did exist, and not only in the abstract. To him, the

well-known accounts of New Testament writers had meaning not only as parables or stories, but as factual instances of divine intervention in the lives of real men and women. To him, it seemed obvious that if demons were driven out, the sick healed, and the dead raised two thousand years ago, they could also be driven out, healed, and raised in the present too.

Zuendel's account is fascinating on an historical level, but it has vital implications for today's reader. And though the quiet pastor at the heart of the struggle he describes worried that it might become a source of exaggerated rumors, he would still want it to be discovered and grappled with and read. More than that, he would surely want it to give courage to those who despair over the spiritual emptiness of our church-filled landscapes, and hope to those whose hearts are open to believe.

The Editors October 1999

I THE FIGHT

On July 31, 1838, the people of Möttlingen, a small town in southern Germany, turned out to welcome their new pastor. A zealous thirty-three-year-old, Johann Christoph Blumhardt had spent years preparing for such a position, and was looking forward to serving his new flock as a minister, teacher, and counselor. Now, finally, he and his fiancée Doris Köllner could marry, settle down, and raise a family.

Blumhardt could never have anticipated the events he was about to be thrust into. Through them, the power of God to which he clung came close to him with a vividness experienced by only a few throughout history. At the request of his ecclesiastical superiors, he recounted these events in a detailed report entitled An Account of Gottliebin Dittus' Illness. In his own memory the events lived on as "the fight."

Before long, completely against Blumhardt's wish, a dis torted version of his report began to circulate publicly. This compelled Blumhardt, who had not even kept the original, to publish a carefully edited second version. He made one hundred copies and stated in the preface that he did not wish to see it circulated further.

Out of respect for that wish, the following account describes manifestations of supernatural forces only where necessary to demonstrate God's victories over them. However, general, mysterious hints would envelop his struggle in an apocryphal twilight. Besides, Blumhardt regarded his experiences during the fight as so significant for the church and for the world that

he would almost certainly agree to making their essential content public now. In a sense, we owe it to him to do so.

In the preface to his report Blumhardt wrote:

Until now I have never spoken with such boldness and candor to anybody about my experiences. Even my best friends look at me askance and act as though they feel threatened by even hearing about these things. Until now, most of it has remained a secret that I could have taken with me to the grave. It would have been easy to give an account that avoided offending any reader, but I could not do that. At almost every paragraph I asked myself if it was not rash to tell everything just as it was, but time and again an inner voice would say, "Out with it!"

So I dared it, in the name of Jesus, the victor. This is an honest report of what I can still remember, and I am firmly convinced that the Lord will hold his hand over me in this. My only intention is to tell everything to the honor of him who is the victor over all dark powers. I cannot take it amiss if some body is mistrustful of these accounts, for these things are beyond our understanding. They are, however, based on observations and experiences over nearly two years, ones which can in every case be corroborated by eye-witnesses.

In speaking out unreservedly for the first time, I ask that the information given here be regarded as private, as when close friends share a secret. I also ask the reader to be so good as to read the whole report several times before forming a judgment. Meanwhile, I put my trust in Him who has human hearts in his power. Whatever the verdict of those who read

this account, I rest assured in the knowledge that I have spoken the unvarnished truth, and in the rock-like certainty that Jesus is the victor.

Möttlingen, a parish at the northern end of the Black Forest which numbered 874 souls when Blumhardt arrived, en compasses two villages. Möttlingen proper, with a population of 535, overlooks the Nagold River and has the architecture, costumes, and customs of the Swabian lowland. Haugstett, the parish branch, is more typical of the Black Forest region, and its inhabitants were known at the time for a spirit of independence so fierce that it often bordered on hostility toward their pastor.

Near the edge of the village of Möttlingen stands a ram shackle house, recognizable now just as it was then by a window shutter bearing this weather-worn inscription:

Man, think on eternity, And do not mock the time of grace, For judgment is not far off.

In the spring of 1840 a poor family by the name of Dittus, consisting of two brothers and three sisters, moved into the ground floor apartment of this house. The eldest, Andreas, later became a village councilor. Then came Johann Georg, half blind and known as Hans. After him came three girls: Katharina, Anna Maria, and Gottliebin, who was born October 13, 1815. Their parents, both devout Christians, had died young.

Gottliebin was spiritually precocious and a favorite pupil of Pastor Barth, Blumhardt's predecessor. Adept at com posing verse, she later wrote many fine songs. Yet from childhood on she experienced uncanny things, and contracted one strange illness after the next, which more than once forced her to give up a good job. Though no one was certain of the cause of these afflictions, they were presumed to spring from her involvement in the magic practices rampant in rural German villages of the era. Barth used his connections to consult eminent physicians on her behalf, and she recovered fairly well from her last ailment, a kidney disease.

Gottliebin felt as attracted to Blumhardt as she felt repelled by him. At his first sermon she had to fight a desire to scratch his eyes out. On the other hand, Blumhardt could be sure of seeing her wherever she had a chance of hearing an uplifting word from him. For instance, she attended his service at the remote parish branch of Haugstett every week, even though one of her legs was shorter than the other, and it was difficult for her to walk long distances. She had a marked, dejected sort of shyness, which, when broken, revealed a defensive reserve. She made a downright unpleasant impression on Blumhardt and on others as well.

No sooner had the Dittuses moved into their new apart ment than Gottliebin reported seeing and hearing strange things in the house. Other family members noticed them, too. On the first day, as Andreas said grace at table, Gottliebin

fell unconscious to the floor at the words "Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest." Then in the bedroom, sitting room, and kitchen her siblings heard recurring banging and shuffling, which terrified them and upset the people living upstairs.

Other peculiar things happened too. At night, for instance, Gottliebin would feel her hands forcibly placed one above the other. She had visions of figures, small lights, and other things and her behavior became gradually more repulsive and inexplicable. Yet because no one was greatly concerned about the "poor orphan family," and because Gottliebin kept quiet about her experiences, most people ignored it. Blumhardt heard rumors about the matter, but he took no notice of them.

Finally, in the fall of 1841, when her nightly torments became unbearable, Gottliebin came to Blumhardt in his rec tory. Voluntarily confessing various things from her past, she seemed to hope that confession would relieve her trials. Yet she spoke in such general terms that Blumhardt could not say much to help her.

From December 1841 through the following February Gottliebin suffered from erysipelas of the face and lay dangerously ill. Blumhardt did not visit her often however, as he was annoyed by her behavior. As soon as she caught sight of him, she would look to one side. When he greeted her, she would not reply. When he prayed, she would separate her previously folded hands. Though before and after his vis its she acted fine, she paid no attention to his words and

seemed almost unconscious when he was there. At the time, Blumhardt regarded her as self-willed and spiritually proud, and decided to stay away rather than expose himself to embarrassment.

Gottliebin did have a faithful friend and adviser in her physician, Dr. Späth and she poured out everything, inclu ding her spooky experiences, to him. Dr. Späth was unable to cure her strangest ailment – breast bleeding – but later, when Blumhardt took her into his care, it vanished, though he was informed of the complaint and its cure only later.

Not until April 1842, after the mysterious happenings had gone on for more than two years, did Blumhardt learn more details from the tormented woman's relatives, who came to him for advice. They were desperate, for the banging noises that echoed through the house at night had become so loud they could be heard all over the neighborhood. Further more, Gottliebin had begun to receive visits from an appari tion. The figure resembled a woman who had died two years before, and carried a dead child in her arms. Gottliebin claimed that this woman (whose name she only divulged later) always stood at a certain spot before her bed. At times the woman would move toward her and say repeatedly,"I just want to find rest," or, "Give me a paper, and I won't come again," or something of the sort. As Blumhardt reported:

The Dittus family asked me if it would be all right to find out more by questioning the apparition. My advice was that Gottliebin should on no account enter into conversation with

it; there was no knowing how much might be her self-decep tion. It was certain, I said, that people can be sucked into a bottomless quagmire when they become involved with spiritualism. Gottliebin should pray earnestly and trustingly; then the whole thing would peter out of its own accord.

As one of her sisters was away in domestic service and her brother wasn't home much, I asked a woman friend of hers to sleep with her to help take her mind off these things if possible. But she was so disturbed by the banging that she helped Gottliebin investigate the matter. At length, guided by a glimmer of light, they discovered behind a board above the bedroom entrance half a sheet of paper with writing on it, so smeared with soot that it was undecipherable. Beside it they found three crowns – one of them minted in 1828 – and various bits of paper, also covered with soot.

From then on everything was quiet."The spook business has come to an end," Blumhardt wrote to Barth. Two weeks later, though, the thumping started again. By the light of a flicker of flame from the stove, the family found more such objects, as well as various powders. An analysis by the district physician and an apothecary in nearby Calw proved inconclusive.

Meanwhile, the banging increased; it went on day and night and reached a peak whenever Gottliebin was in the room. Along with some others who were curious, Dr. Späth twice stayed in the apartment overnight, and found it worse than he had expected. The affair became more and more of a sensation, affecting the surrounding countryside and drawing

tourists from farther away. In an attempt to put an end to the scandal, Blumhardt decided to undertake a thorough investigation himself. With the mayor Kraushaar (a carpet manufacturer known for his level-headedness) and a half dozen village councilors, Blumhardt made secret arrange ments for an inspection during the night of June 9, 1842. In advance he sent Mose Stanger, a young married man related to Gottliebin who later became Blumhardt's most faithful supporter. The others followed at about ten o'clock in the evening, posting themselves in pairs in and around the house.

As Blumhardt entered the house, he was met by two powerful bangs from the bedroom, followed by several more. He heard all sorts of bangs and knocks, mostly in the bedroom, where Gottliebin lay fully clothed on the bed. The other observers outside and on the floor above heard it all. After a while they all gathered in the ground floor apartment, convinced that what they heard must originate there. The tumult seemed to grow, especially when Blumhardt suggested a verse from a hymn and spoke a few words of prayer. Within three hours they heard the sound of twenty-five blows, directed at a certain spot in the bedroom. These were powerful enough to cause a chair to jump, the windows to clatter, and sand to trickle from the ceiling. People living at a distance were reminded of New Year's Eve firecrackers. At the same time there were other noises of varying volume, like a light drumming of fingertips or a more or less regular tapping. The sounds seemed to come

mainly from beneath the bed, though a search revealed nothing. They did notice, though, that the bangs in the bedroom were loudest when everybody was in the sitting room. Blumhardt reported:

Finally, at about one o'clock, while we were all in the living room, Gottliebin called me to her and said she could hear the shuffling sound of an approaching apparition. Then she asked me if, once she saw it, I would permit her to identify it. I refused. By that time I had heard more than enough and did not want to run the risk of having many people see things that could not be explained. I declared the investigation over, asked Gottliebin to get up, saw to it that she found accommo dation in another house, and left. Gottliebin's brother Hans told us later that he still saw and heard various things after our departure.

The next day, a Friday, there was a church service. Afterward, Gottliebin went to visit her old home. Half an hour later a large crowd had gathered in front of the house, and a messenger notified Blumhardt that Gottliebin was uncon scious and close to death. He hurried there and found her lying on the bed, completely rigid, her head burning hot and her arms trembling. She seemed to be suffocating. The room was crammed with people, including a doctor from a neighboring village who happened to be in Möttlingen and had rushed to the spot. He tried various things to revive Gottliebin but went away shaking his head. Half an hour later she came to. She confided to Blumhardt that she had again

seen the figure of the woman with the dead child and had fallen to the floor unconscious.

Another search of the place that afternoon turned up a number of strange objects apparently connected with sorcery – including tiny bones. Blumhardt, accompanied by the mayor, took them to a specialist, who identified them as bird bones.

Wishing to quell the general hubbub, which was now getting out of hand, Blumhardt found new accommoda tions for Gottliebin, first with a female cousin and later with another cousin, Johann Georg Stanger (the father of Mose Stanger), who was a village councilor and Gottliebin's godfather. Blumhardt advised Gottliebin not to enter her own house for the time being, and she agreed – in fact, she did not move back there until the following year. He also tried to prevent further commotion by advising her brother Hans not to visit her.

I had a particular dread of manifestations of clairvoyance, which are often unpleasantly sensational. A mysterious and dangerous field had opened up before me, and I could only commit the matter to the Lord in my personal prayers, asking him to protect me in every situation that might arise. When ever the matter took a more serious turn, the mayor, Mose, and I would meet in my study to pray and talk, which kept us all in a sober frame of mind.

I shall never forget the fervent prayers for wisdom, strength, and help that those men sent up to God. Together

we searched through the Bible, determined not to go any fur ther than Scripture led us. It never entered our minds to perform miracles, but it grieved us deeply to realize how much power the devil still has over humankind. Our heartfelt compassion went out not only to the poor woman whose misery we saw before us, but to the millions who have turned away from God and become entangled in the secret snares of darkness. We cried to God, asking that at least in this case he would give us the victory and trample Satan underfoot.

It took weeks for the uproar in the area to die down. Complete strangers came and wanted to visit the house, some even wanting to spend a night in it to convince themselves that the rumors were true. But Blumhardt resolutely refused all such requests, including one made by three Catholic priests from nearby Baden, who wanted to spend several hours in the house at night. The house was placed under the watchful custody of the village policeman, who happened to live opposite it.

Gradually things quieted down, and most people in the village remained unaware of what followed, though occasionally this or that came to somebody's notice. As for his own congregation, Blumhardt later said, "Generally speaking, I met with earnest, reverent, and expectant sympathy throughout the fight, even if it was mostly unspo ken. That made it much easier for me to hold out, while at the

same time rendering it impossible for me to give up." Mean while the din in the house continued unabated and only ended a full two years later.

Before long, similar noises started in Gottliebin's new dwelling. Whenever they were heard, she would fall into violent convulsions that could last four or five hours. Once they were so violent that the bedstead was forced out of joint. Dr. Späth, who was present, said in tears, "The way this woman is left lying here, one would think there is no one in this village to care for souls in need!"

Blumhardt took up the challenge and began visiting Gottliebin more often:

Her whole body shook; every muscle of her head and arms burned and trembled, or rattled, for they were individually rigid and stiff, and she foamed at the mouth. She had been lying in this state for several hours, and the doctor, who had never seen anything like it, was at his wits' end. Then suddenly she came to, sat up, and asked for a drink of water. One could scarcely believe it was the same person.

One day a traveling preacher acquainted with Gottliebin visited her and dropped in at the rectory. On taking leave, he raised a forefinger at Blumhardt and admonished him, "Do not forget your pastoral duty!"

"What am I to do?" thought Blumhardt. "I'm doing what any pastor does. What more can I do?"

Some time later, on a Sunday evening, Blumhardt visited the sick woman again. Several of her friends were present.

Sitting some distance from her bed, he silently watched as she convulsed: twisting her arms, arcing her back in the most painful manner, and foaming at the mouth. Blumhardt continued:

It became clear to me that something demonic was at work here, and I was pained that no remedy had been found for the horrible affair. As I pondered this, indignation seized me – I believe it was an inspiration from above. I walked purpose fully over to Gottliebin and grasped her cramped hands. Then, trying to hold them together as best as possible (she was unconscious), I shouted into her ear, "Gottliebin, put your hands together and pray, 'Lord Jesus, help me!' We have seen enough of what the devil can do; now let us see what the Lord Jesus can do!" Moments later the convulsions ceased, and to the astonishment of those present, she woke up and repeated those words of prayer after me.

This was the decisive moment, and it thrust me into the fight with irresistible force. I had acted on an impulse; it had never occurred to me what to do until then. But the impres sion that single impulse left on me stayed with me so clearly that later it was often my only reassurance, convincing me that what I had undertaken was not of my own choice or pre sumption. Of course at the time I could not possibly have imagined the horrible developments still to come.

Blumhardt only recognized the full significance of this turning point later on. He had turned deliberately and directly to God, and God had immediately begun to guide his actions. From this point on, Blumhardt was convinced that it

was vital for the ultimate victory of God's kingdom that the kingdom of darkness and its influences suffer defeat here on earth. He also recognized more clearly the role of faith in the struggle between light and darkness. The depth to which divine redemption penetrates into human lives in this struggle, he saw, ultimately depends on the faith and expectation of its fighters.

Blumhardt explained what he saw as his own role in all this:

At that time Jesus stood at the door and knocked, and I opened it to him. This is the call of Him who wants to come again: "Behold, I stand at the door; I am already waiting there. I want to come into your life, want to break into your 'reality' with the full power of grace given me by the Father, to prepare for my full return. I am knocking, but you are so engrossed in your possessions, your political quarrels, and theological wrangling, that you do not hear my voice."

Far from fully subsiding after Blumhardt's intervention, Gottliebin's illness soon resumed in earnest. Following this first breakthrough, the woman had several hours of peace, but at ten o'clock in the evening Blumhardt was called to her bedside again. Her convulsions had returned. Blumhardt asked her to pray aloud, "Lord Jesus, help me!" Once more, the convulsions ceased immediately, and when new attacks came Blumhardt frustrated them with the same prayer, until after three hours she was able to relax and exclaimed, "Now I feel quite well."

Gottliebin remained peaceful until nine o'clock the following evening, when Blumhardt called on her with two friends he brought along whenever he knew her to be alone. As they entered Gottliebin's room, she rushed at Blumhardt and tried to strike him, though she seemed unable to aim the blows effectively. After this, she plunked her hands down on the bed, and it seemed to those present as if some evil power came streaming out through her fingertips. It continued like this for some time, until finally the convulsions abated.

But before long, a new wave of distress engulfed Gottliebin. The sound of tapping fingers was once more around her, she received a sudden blow on her chest, and she once more caught sight of the apparition she had seen in her old home. This time she told Blumhardt who the figure was; it was a widow who had died two years before, a woman Blumhardt knew well. In her last days she had sighed a lot, and said she longed for peace but never found it. Once, when Blumhardt had quoted to her from a hymn, "Peace, the highest good of all," she had asked him for it and copied it. Later, on her deathbed, tormented by her conscience, she had confessed several heavy sins to Blumhardt, but it had not seemed to give her much peace. Blumhardt wrote:

When I got to Gottliebin, I heard the tapping. She lay quietly in bed. Suddenly it seemed as if something entered into her, and her whole body started to move. I said a few words of

prayer and mentioned the name of Jesus. Immediately she began to roll her eyes, pulled her hands apart, and cried out in a voice not her own, either in accent or inflection, "I cannot bear that name!" We all shuddered. I had never yet heard anything like it, and in my heart I called on God to give me wisdom and prudence –and above all to preserve me from untimely curiosity. In the end, firmly resolved to limit myself to what was necessary and to let my intuition tell me if I went too far, I posed a few questions, addressing them to the voice, which I assumed belonged to the dead widow. The conversation went something like this:

"Is there no peace in the grave?" "No." "Why not?" "It is the reward for my deeds." "Have you not confessed everything?" "No, I murdered two children and buried them in a field." "Do you not know where to get help? Can you not pray?" "I cannot pray." "Do you not know Jesus who can forgive sins?" "I cannot bear the sound of that name." "Are you alone?" "No." "Who is with you?" Hesitatingly, but then with a rush, the voice replied, "The most wicked of all."

The conversation went on like this for a while. The speaker accused herself of sorcery, on account of which she was bound to the devil. Seven times she had possessed someone

and then left his or her body, she said. I asked her if I might pray for her, and after some hesitation she permitted me. When I finished, I told her she could not remain in Gott liebin's body. At first she seemed to plead with me, but then she became defiant. However, I commanded her to come out. At that, Gottliebin's hands fell forcefully to the bed, and her possession seemed to come to an end.

Along with his close friends the mayor and Mose Stanger, Blumhardt earnestly pondered whether or not he should enter into even a limited conversation with a spirit. The Bible always guided them in such considerations, particularly the passage starting at Luke 8:27. In light of his own experiences, Blumhardt offered the following thoughts on Luke's account of how Jesus healed the possessed Gergesene:

Luke reports that instead of departing immediately, as was usually the case, the demons voiced a request. They feared being sent into the abyss. Evidently, Jesus did not respond harshly. Having come to redeem the living and the dead to the widest extent possible, he, their future judge, could not stand there insensitive. Hence he showed himself approachable, and stopped to listen. He asked the unclean spirit, who was repre senting all the others, "What is your name?" He evidently put this question not to the possessed man, but to the spirit speak ing out of him; he wanted to know what name the spirit had when alive.

Jesus was aware that demons, as departed human spirits, fear hell. By asking the demon's name – which he, being the Lord, would of course already know – he showed interest and compassion. This also suggests that he considered the demon to be human rather than non-human. The demon chose not to reveal his name, thus cutting himself off from further consideration the Lord would have been glad to show him, to let those present see how all-embracing his redemptive urge was. Instead, the spirit replied, "Legion, for there are many of us." This answer indicates that there were many in need of freeing.

States of possession like this give one a glimpse of something mysterious, incomprehensible, indeed horrifying: thousands of spirits looking for shelter in a human being or in subjection to a dark power that compels them to torment the living.

To return to our story, Gottliebin experienced another apparent instance of possession a few days later, though this time Blumhardt did not intervene as he had before. It seemed as if specific demons were now coming out of her by the hundreds. Every time it happened, the woman's face assumed a new, threatening mien. The demons, by their own admission, were not permitted to touch Blumhardt, but they did attack the others present, including the mayor, who received more than a few blows. Gottliebin meanwhile

yanked her hair, beat her breasts, banged her head against the wall, and tried to injure herself in other ways, though a few simple words from Blumhardt seemed to calm her.

As these scenes grew increasingly terrible, Blumhardt's presence sometimes seemed to make matters worse. He related:

No words can describe what I endured in soul and spirit at that time. I so badly wanted to have done with the matter. True, in each instance I could depart with inward satisfaction, believing that the demonic power had given way and that the tormented woman was again completely all right. However, the dark powers always seemed to gain fresh strength, so intent were they on entangling me in a labyrinth and ruining me.

All my friends advised me to give up. But I thought with horror of what might become of Gottliebin if I withdrew my support, and how everyone would consider it my fault if things turned out badly. I would endanger myself and others if I tried to extricate myself by withdrawing. I felt caught in a net. I must also admit that I felt ashamed to give in to the devil – in my own heart and before my Savior, whose active help I had experienced so many times. I often had to ask myself, "Who is Lord?" And I always heard an inner voice call: "Forward! We may first have to descend into the deepest depths, but it must come to a good end, if it is true that Jesus crushed the Serpent's head."

As the scenes in which demons came out of Gottliebin grew more frequent, there were other mysterious occurrences as

well. For example, one night when she was asleep, Gottliebin felt a scorching hand grab her throat, leaving large burns be hind. Her aunt, who slept in the same room, lit a lamp, and found blisters around Gottliebin's neck. Day and night Gottliebin would receive unexplainable blows to her head or side. On top of this invisible objects tripped her in the street or on the stairs, causing sudden falls and resulting in bruises and other injuries.

On June 25, 1842, Blumhardt was informed that Gottliebin had gone mad. When he called on her the following morning, everything seemed to be well. However, in the afternoon Gottliebin suffered such a violent attack that it left her as if dead. Once again it appeared that demons were coming out of her, with a force that exceeded anything Blumhardt had experienced previously. To him, it felt like a victory of incomprehensible magnitude. For the next several weeks nothing much happened, and Gottliebin walked the village unmolested and unharmed."It was a time of rejoicing for me," Blumhardt later said.

He had earned that joy. Even his best friends had warned him not to get involved in the conflict. But Blumhardt had acted boldly, staking everything on his assurance that Jesus Christ is the same today as he was two thousand years ago, when for the sake of suffering humankind, he had stopped the powers of darkness in their tracks. He had remained at his post like a soldier, neither advancing rashly nor retreating, and had held the field.

When the fight was at its fiercest, on July 9, 1842, he wrote to his predecessor and mentor Barth, "Whenever I write the name of Jesus, I am overcome by a holy awe and by a joyous, fervent sense of gratitude that he is mine. Only now have I truly come to know what we have in him."

But if anyone thought the fight was now over, they were wrong. As Blumhardt put it, he seemed to have taken on an enemy who constantly brought out fresh troops.

In August 1842 Gottliebin came to him, pale and disfigured, to tell him something she had been too shy to reveal but could keep hidden no longer. At first she hedged, making him tense and apprehensive, but finally came out and told him how every Wednesday and Friday she would bleed so painfully and severely that she was sure she was dying. In her description of other things she experienced in connection with this bleeding, Blumhardt recognized several bizarre fantasies of popular superstition, apparently become reality. He later recalled:

To begin with, I needed time to collect my thoughts, as I realized what a hold the power of darkness had gained over humanity. My next thought was "Now you are done for; now you are getting into magic and witchcraft, and what can you do to protect yourself against them?" But as I looked at her in her distress, I shuddered to think that such darkness could be possible, and help impossible. I recalled that there are people thought to have secret powers enabling them to ward off all manner of demonic evils; I thought of the sympathetic magic

that people swear by. Should I look around for something of that sort? But I couldn't. I had already long felt that that would be using devils to drive out devils. At one point, it is true, I considered affixing the name of Jesus to the door of a sick person's house, but then I found a warning in Galatians 3:3: "Can it be that you are so stupid? You started with the spiritual; do you now look to the material?" I took this as a re minder to keep to the pure weapons of prayer and God's word.

Questions flooded through me: Cannot the prayers of the faithful prevail against this satanic power, whatever it be? What are we poor people to do if we cannot call down direct help from above? Because Satan has a hand in it, must we leave it at that? Can he not be defeated through faith? If Jesus came to destroy the works of the devil, ought we not to hold on to that? If magic and witchcraft are at work, is it not a sin to let them continue unchecked when they could be confronted?

With these thoughts I struggled through to faith in the power of prayer, where no other counsel was to be had. I said to Gottliebin, "We are going to pray; come what may, we shall dare it! There is nothing to lose. Almost every page of Scripture tells of prayer being heard. God will keep his promises." I let her go with the assurance that I would pray for her and asked her to keep me informed.

The next day, a Friday, was unforgettable. Toward evening – as the first storm clouds in months began to gather across the sky – Gottliebin was thrown into a veritable frenzy. First she

raced madly from room to room looking for a knife so she could kill herself. Then, running up to the attic, she sprang onto a windowsill. While standing on the ledge, ready to jump, the first lightning of the approaching storm startled her and brought her to her senses. "For God's sake, I don't want that!" she cried. But her sanity lasted only a moment. Once more delirious, she took a rope – later she was not able to say how it had come into her hands – wound it artfully around a beam in the loft, and made a slip knot. Just as she pushed her head through the noose, a second flash of lightning caught her eye and brought her around as before. The next morning when she saw the noose on the beam, she wept, claiming that in a sober state of mind she never could have tied such a clever knot.

At eight o'clock the same evening, Blumhardt was called to Gottliebin and found her in a pool of blood. He said a few comforting words to her, but she did not respond. Then, as thunder rolled outside, he began to pray earnestly.

As I prayed, the anger of the demons afflicting Gottliebin broke loose with full force, howling and lamenting, "Now the game is up. Everything has been betrayed. You have ruined us completely. The whole pack is falling apart. It is all over. There is nothing but confusion, and it is all your fault. With your unceasing praying you will drive us out completely. Alas, alas, everything is lost! We are 1,067, but there are many others still alive, and they ought to be warned! Oh, woe to them, they are lost! God forsworn – forever forlorn!"

The howls of the demons, the flashes of lightning, the rolling thunder, the splashing of the downpour, the earnest ness of all present, and my prayers, which seemed to literally draw the demons out – all this created a scene that is very difficult to imagine. Among other things, the demons yelled, "Nobody could have driven us out! Only you have managed it, you with your persistent praying."

After fifteen minutes of intercession, Gottliebin came to and Blumhardt and the others left the room while she changed her clothes.As he tells it,"When we came back and found her sitting on her bed, she was a completely different person. There was no room in us for anything but praise and thanks. The bleeding had ended for good."

Before long other demonic manifestations made their appearance. Blumhardt, unable to see the way forward, poured out his need to a friend, the director of a seminary, who pointed him to Jesus' words, "There is no means of casting out this sort but by prayer and fasting" (Matt. 17:21). Thinking on it further, Blumhardt began to wonder whether fasting might not be more meaningful than he had previously assumed:

Insofar as fasting enhances the intensity of prayer and shows God the urgency of the person praying (in fact, it represents a continuous prayer without words), I believed it could prove effective, particularly since this was specific divine advice for the case at hand. I tried it, without telling anybody, and found it a tremendous help during the fight. It enabled me to be

much calmer, firmer, and clearer in my speech. I no longer needed to be present for long stretches; I sensed that I could make my influence felt without even being there. And when I did come, I often noticed results within a few moments.

A few other accounts of demonic manifestations are worth mentioning here too. Blumhardt tells, for example, of ap parent differences among the demons. Some were defiant and full of hatred toward him, crying, among other things, "You are our worst enemy, and we are your enemies. Oh, if only we could do what we want!" Some expressed a horror of the abyss, which they perceived to be very near, and ut tered things such as, "Would that there were no God in heaven!" And yet they assumed full responsibility for their own downfall. One particularly dreadful demon, whom Gottliebin had seen earlier in her house and who now admitted to being a perjurer, repeatedly exclaimed the words painted on the window shutter of that house:

Man, think on eternity, And do not mock the time of grace, For judgment is not far off.

Then he would fall silent, contort his face, stiffly raise three of the sick woman's fingers, and then shudder and groan. There were many bizarre scenes of this kind, and Blumhardt would gladly have welcomed more witnesses to corroborate his reports of them.

In general, most of the demons that showed themselves in Möttlingen between August 1842 and December 1843 desperately yearned for liberation from the bonds of Satan. They used various languages to express themselves, including Italian, French, German, and other languages which Blum hardt could not recognize.

Now and then there were utterances that could not be assigned to any particular demon; they sounded as if they came from some other source. One voice repeated Habakkuk 2:3–4 numerous times: "There is still a vision for the appointed time. At the destined hour it will come in breath less haste, it will not fail. If it delays, wait for it; for when it comes will be no time to linger. The reckless will be unsure of himself, while the righteous will live by being faithful." The same voice also addressed the demons and recited a Bible passage Blumhardt later identified as Jeremiah 3:25: "You have sinned against the Lord your God, both you and your fathers, from your youth till now, and you have not obeyed the Lord your God." Blumhardt wrote:

At first I did not grasp the importance of these utterances, but then I began to feel that they deserved greater attention. Listening to them I sensed that they came from above to strengthen and comfort me.

On occasion, Blumhardt responded to demons that longed to be set free:

For a long time I would not listen to their talk. But I often found myself in a dilemma, seeing how they showed themselves in Gottliebin's tormented features, her hands raised in supplication, her streaming tears, and the sounds that came from her – sighs and groans of fear, despair, and entreaty that would melt a heart of stone. I resisted becoming involved in any attempt at freeing them, because everything I had experienced made me suspect a pernicious ruse of the devil and made me fear for my reputation. But in the end I could not help at least trying, since those demons that appeared to have some hope for themselves could not be moved by threats or exhortations.

The first demon I attempted to help was that of the woman who seemed to have been at the root of the whole affair. Reappearing in Gottliebin, she declared in a firm and decisive voice that she wanted to belong to the Savior and not to the devil.

At this point the woman asked Blumhardt, "Who are you?" When he answered, "A servant of the gospel," she replied, "Yes, and what a hard one!" This response shook Blumhardt to the core. Then he asked her, "Where are you?" and she said, "In the chasm."

Then she told me how much had changed in the spirit world because of this fight, and that I had succeeded thus far only because I had relied solely on the word of God, and on prayer. If I had resorted to popular means of warding off evil spirits – remedies and spells and cures – I would have been trapped. The demon raised a finger to emphasize her point and ended with the words, "It is a dreadful battle that you have under

taken!" Then she pleaded with me to pray for her to be released from the devil's power – she had unwittingly fallen into his thrall by dabbling in idolatry, sorcery, and sympathetic magic –

and to be given a place of rest. I had known this woman well in her lifetime; she had shown a hunger for the word of God such as I had rarely seen. My heart ached for her. Glancing toward heaven, I asked her, "But where do you want to go?"

"I should like to remain in your house," she said. Taken aback, I said, "That cannot be." "May I go into the church?" I considered this request a moment and then replied, "If you promise not to disturb anybody and never make yourself visible, I would have no objection – if Jesus permits it."

This was risky, perhaps, but I trusted that God would set everything right, and felt no presumption before him. The spirit seemed satisfied, named the farthest corner as the place where she would be, and then seemed to come out of Gott liebin willingly and easily. No one told Gottliebin any of this, though to her horror she later saw the woman at the desig nated place in the church. Apart from her, however, nobody noticed anything, and the spirit soon vanished for good.

There were subsequent struggles with other spirits who also claimed to love God but were still bound to the devil through idolatry and sorcery. They, too, sought liberation and security. Only with utmost caution and after consulting the Lord did I consent to their requests. My standard reply was, "If Jesus permits it."

It soon became evident that there was indeed divine guidance in all this, for not all were granted what they asked

for. Some had to depart relying only on God's mercy. I do not wish to expound on this beyond saying that it always brought relief to Gottliebin. One interesting case I cannot leave un mentioned, however. To one of the spirits who asked to be let into the church, I answered as usual, "If Jesus permits it." After a while he burst out crying desperately, saying, "God is a judge for widows and orphans!" and declaring that he had not been permitted to enter the church.

I replied, "You see, it is the Lord who shows you the way; what I say doesn't count. Go where the Lord bids you go."

He continued, "May I go into your house?" I was again startled by this request and, thinking of my wife and children, was not inclined to accede to it. Then it occurred to me that this might be a test to see if I was really ready for any sacrifice, so I said, "If you do not disturb anybody, and if Jesus permits it, it would be all right." At this a voice cried from within Gottliebin, "Not under any roof! God is a judge for widows and orphans!" Once more the spirit seemed to burst into tears and asked if he might at least go into my garden. That request was granted. Apparently, the demon was guilty of having made orphans homeless.

Blumhardt's experiences contradict the assumption that after death we immediately find ourselves either eternally blessed or eternally damned, and that there are only two places for the dead: heaven or hell. Still, he rejected the notion

of a purgatory – a stage of the afterlife where souls are purified by torment – and he refuted the charge that he tried to convert spirits:

For me, it was never a question of conversion, but rather of freeing the souls of otherwise believing persons. These had been involved in magical practices, which during their lifetime they had not recognized as sins. Because of this they had remained under the devil's control without knowing it. Since even in these sins they had not meant to turn away from God, they were in need not of conversion but merely of liberation. They could only find such liberation, however, if somewhere on earth a battle was being waged, in firm faith in the blood of Jesus Christ, against the power of magic.

In this regard, a passage in Paul's letter to the Romans was of utmost importance to Blumhardt:

The created universe waits with eager expectation for God's sons to be revealed. It was made the victim of frustration, not by its own choice, but because of him who made it so; yet always there was hope, because the universe itself is to be freed from the shackles of mortality and enter into the liberty and splendor of the children of God. Up to the present, we know, the whole created universe groans in all its parts as if in pangs of childbirth. Not only so, but even we, to whom the Spirit is given as firstfruits of the harvest to come, are groaning inwardly while we wait for God to make us his sons and set our whole body free (Rom. 8:19–23).

If so much forgiveness is reserved for the last judgment, might not the yearning of "the created universe" be related to this? Yet people take the liberty to exclude from the universe all those who die unredeemed. As Blumhardt once commented:

Nobody thinks of the dead, and yet there are billions of them. Their guilt is often not very great if one considers that most of them are pagans not responsible for their igno rance. Seen in that light, the statement that the world is in bondage to evil takes on much deeper meaning. The apostle's thought that the whole universe has fallen prey to this power of lying and death is as shattering as the other thought is uplifting: that through Christ's ultimate victory, creation will be liberated from this bondage.

During his fight Blumhardt began to see the importance of Jesus' promise, "Whatever you ask in my name, I will do." It became clear to him that the coming of God cannot merely be expected passively, but must be prepared through victories of faith won by the church:

I can hardly believe that the Lord will simply turn up one fine day and slay the devil without the faithful having to be greatly concerned about it. Then, when these events threatened to continue indefinitely, I rallied all my inner strength and begged God that he, the power who made everything out of nothing, might now reduce these things to nothingness and utterly undo the devil's trickery. In this way I struggled for several days, and the Lord – who promised "Whatever you will ask in my name, I will do" – kept his word!

Of course, most people take a completely different attitude regarding the kingdom of darkness and its impact on humanity. In general, people are careful not to say what they think about it. They even consider it the first duty of an enlightened mind to deny the existence of Satan's realm. When confronted by otherwise inexplicable facts, they prefer to turn off the machinery of their intellect. True, it may be better to dismiss such phenomena as Blumhardt witnessed in Gottliebin than to indulge in undue curiosity and exploration. In fact, his aversion to inquisitive dabbling gave him the objectivity and resolve he needed for a fight of such demonic dimensions.

Several times during Blumhardt's struggle there was a surcease, but following such periods the forces of darkness assailed Gottliebin with renewed vigor, as if determined to kill her. On one occasion, after she had wounded herself dreadfully and the wounds had healed, they suddenly burst open again. A friend hurried to Blumhardt with the message that every minute's delay would be perilous. Blumhardt recalled:

At that I fell on my knees in my room and in my distress spoke bold words. This time – my faith had become so strong – I decided I was not even going to do the devil the honor of going to Gottliebin's house. Rather, I sent a message back with Gottliebin's friend asking her to get up and come to me, adding that with faith she would have strength to do it.

Before long, there she was, coming up the stairs. No one can possibly know how that made me feel.

Around Christmas 1843, from December 24 to 28, the fight finally came to a climactic and decisive conclusion. In Blumhardt's own words:

It seemed as if all the evil powers that had appeared before were joining forces for a combined assault. Most disconcer ting was that now these sinister workings affected Gottliebin's brother Hans and her sister Katharina, so that I had to fight a most desperate battle for all three of them at once. I can no longer tell the exact order of events; so many things happened that I cannot possibly recall them all, but those were days I never want to experience again. It had come to the point where I simply had to risk everything; it was a question of victory or death. Great as my own efforts were, I sensed a tangible divine protection. I did not feel the least bit tired or worn out, even after forty hours of watching, fasting, and praying.

Gottliebin's brother was the first to regain freedom from his apparent posession – so much so that he could aid me in what followed. This time the brunt of the attack was not directed at Gottliebin, who seemed to be completely at peace, but at her sister Katharina, who up till then had not been af fected at all. Katharina now began to rage so furiously that it took great efforts to control her. She threatened to break me into a thousand pieces, and I did not risk going near her. She also made continuous attempts to injure herself and slyly looked around for opportunities to injure those holding her

as well. At the same time she kept babbling and ranting so horribly that thousands of spiteful tongues seemed to be speaking all at once.

Remarkably, Katharina remained fully conscious, and one could reason with her. When admonished, she would say she could not control her speech and behavior, and asked us to keep a firm hold on her to prevent her from doing some thing terrible. Afterward, too, she remembered everything distinctly, which depressed her so severely that I had to spend days counseling and encouraging her. Gradually, after much prayer, these memories faded away.

The demon inside Katharina did not make himself out to be a departed human spirit, but an eminent angel of Satan. He claimed that if he were forced to descend into the abyss, it would deal Satan a fatal blow, but would also cause Katharina to bleed to death. All of a sudden, at midnight, a series of desperate howls issued from Katharina's throat. Lasting for about a quarter of an hour, the cries were gruesomely forceful, and so loud that half the inhabitants of the village heard them. At the same time Katharina started shaking so violently that it seemed her limbs would come loose. The demonic voice expressed fear and despair mingled with tremendous arrogance and defiance. It demanded that God perform a sign to allow it to go to hell with at least some honor, instead of forcing it to abdicate like an ordinary sinner.

Then, at two o'clock in the morning, while Katharina arched her upper body backward over her chair, the purported angel of Satan, in a voice no human throat could make, bellowed out the words, "Jesus is the victor! Jesus is the

victor!" Everyone in the village who heard these words understood their significance, and they left an indelible impression on many. The strength and power of the demon now appeared to wane with every passing minute. It grew quieter, moved less and less, and finally left Katharina altogether unnoticed – just as the light of life goes out in a dying person –around eight o'clock in the morning.

At this point the two-year-long fight came to an end. True, there remained things to work through afterward, but that was like clearing away the rubble of a collapsed building. Hans, for instance, was subject to a few more attacks, but they were scarcely noticed by others. Katharina had occasional convulsions as well, but soon she, too, recovered fully. Further incidents were insignificant and unnoticed by others.

As for Gottliebin, she suffered from several renewed attempts on the part of the dark power during the following months, but these attacks were doomed to failure and did not claim much of my attention. Eventually she attained complete health. All her former ailments, well known to her physicians, completely disappeared – the high shoulder, the short leg, stomach troubles, and others. Over a considerable time her health has remained stable in every respect, which is a miracle of God.

Gottliebin's disposition, too, has improved in a most gratifying way; her humility, her sincere and sensible way of speaking, coupled with decisiveness and modesty, have helped many others. I know of no other woman who can handle children with such insight, love, and patience. I often entrust my own children to her. During the past year

she has taught handicrafts; now I am starting a nursery school, and have not been able to find anyone as suitable as she to direct it.

In 1850 Blumhardt commented on Gottliebin's subsequent life and work:

Since she became part of my household, Gottliebin has been my wife's most loyal and sensible support in managing the household and raising the children. Others can testify to her faithfulness in this role, and her effect on those who pass through the house. Everyone who knows her speaks of her with respect and appreciation. She has become nearly indis pensable to me, particularly in the treatment of mentally ill people, who usually develop such a trust in her that they require little of my time. She is not employed by us as a domestic servant, for her gratitude will not allow her to accept payment for her work. Rather, she considers herself one of the family, as do her sister Katharina and her brother Hans.

Hans became the handyman in Blumhardt's rectory, as adept at splitting wood as at dealing with mentally ill per sons, for which he, too, had a special talent. Blumhardt fondly called him his majordomo.

Thus the fight, which had for a time threatened to take on increasingly bizarre dimensions, ended for good. One conse quence of the conflict was that Blumhardt found himself increasingly isolated. Friends all but abandoned him, and even his confidant, Barth, no longer seemed to understand him, as the following letter from Blumhardt indicates.

Written to Barth on January 2, 1844, it should not be misconstrued as proof of a deteriorating relationship between the two men. Certainly Blumhardt complains that Barth had been overbearing, but their relationship had always been marked by honesty and blunt speaking, and they re mained lifelong friends:

You wanted to dictate to me, but had I followed you, I surely would have been undone. You ought to know that he who turns his back on the opponent is lost. You yourself said that the Enemy's aim was to ruin me. That is true, but for the sake of Christ I ask you to tell me openly: is there no power in the world other than that of the devil? Are you suggesting that I should have handled him with kid gloves like a devilworshipper, letting him do as he pleases, to keep him from assaulting me? Open your eyes, my dear brother, and tell me: Doesn't the devil seek everyone's ruin? And don't you agree that I would be in greater danger of being ruined if I withdrew into a snail shell instead of confronting the devil head-on with the word of God? O brother, you do not seem to know the unspeakable distress weighing on poor humankind!

You do not know or do not bear in mind the full, horrible extent of magical practices and alliances with the devil in Christendom and in the world at large. But to come to know this, to be quite certain of it, and then to back out – why, that would make me worse than the devil! Well, know that I dared it. I wanted to see if Jesus could break the devil's neck. I felt driven to do it, as you know. I wanted to see who would tire and throw in the towel first – the devil or I. I dared it; I

fought. Guided by God's word day by day, for a whole year and a half, my cries to God could not possibly go unanswered. That I am right in this belief will surely be confirmed on that great day, when Jesus, who has been merciful to me, will vindicate me.

In fact, he has already vindicated me. You ought to see how happy I am after each bout – like a child – and how full of gratitude. And how I have learned to pray, so that there are many things I need only ask of the Savior and I receive them. This is especially noticeable in regard to the children, and my dear wife Doris simply brims over with joy because of it. One sigh to him above, "Lord, give me strength!" is enough to restore me. Even after the hardest night-long struggles, I am sure no one can tell by my face what I have been through. Ask anyone if they thought me worn-out or weakened this week, during which I stood fifteen times before my congregation and went without sleep for forty hours straight.

After reading Blumhardt's graphic description of his fight against the kingdom of darkness, it is well to remember his warning that we can withstand this darkness only to the degree that we experience the light of Jesus, the Redeemer. True, an awareness of Jesus' presence during the fight in Möttlingen was often overshadowed by the more dramatic appearance of evil powers. But it is clear which forces were victorious. In any case, the most incredible and dramatic chapter of the story was still to come.

II THE AWAKENING

Blumhardt's fight came to an end on December 28, 1843, but with the close of that chapter came the opening of a new, even more significant one: a widespread movement of repentance and renewal that changed hundreds of lives and spread far beyond the town.

Because of its raw drama, Blumhardt's fight for Gottliebin's soul tended to interest his contemporaries more than the awakening that followed. This pained Blumhardt. When an old friend begged him for a copy of An Account of Gottliebin Dittus' Illness, he handed it over only after some hesitation, reminding him, "But you know, this is not Möttlingen!" To Blumhardt, Möttlingen's significance lay in the change it experienced after the fight, not in the notoriety it gained because of the fight itself.

Blumhardt's fight had engendered a sober mood in his congregation, but its impact was greatest on him, his family, and his two closest supporters, the Mayor Kraushaar and Mose Stanger. For them, as well as for Gottliebin, it was a time of judgment and repentance. Insights kept coming to them from the Bible, and the new awareness they brought was piercing and punishing."We were being curried with an iron comb," one of them said.

Already before the fight in 1841, the first harbinger of the awakening showed itself – in Blumhardt's confirmation classes. He told of one striking incident:

With my twenty or so pupils sitting around me, I noticed that one of the boys – a troublemaker whom some had written off

as a lost cause – was crying. Tears were streaming down his face. I didn't know what to make of it, so I had him stay behind after class and asked, "What's the matter with you? Why are you crying?" Trustingly, he told me he had heard a voice whisper in his ear, "Your sins are forgiven." I never expected anything like that and cannot recall any similar occurrence. From then on, the boy was a completely different person.

Then, on Good Friday 1842, just before the beginning of the fight, Blumhardt sensed another breakthrough. At the time church attendance was fair at Möttlingen, even at the notoriously independent parish branch of Haugstett. But everyone slept in church.

Blumhardt tended to be lenient with people who couldn't keep their eyes open while he preached. If hard work, sleep lessness, or sickness was to blame, he would likely tell them, "Have a little snooze then! It will do you good, and afterward you can be more attentive." But he also said, "Some of them are sleeping simply because they are satisfied with who they are. They think they know everything, and if they hear anything new, it only annoys them. They are not ready for a new burst of life. And what can you say in cases like that? You just have to let them sleep."

But this Good Friday, sitting in the sacristy before the service, Blumhardt couldn't bear the thought of watching his congregation snooze on such a holy day. Desperate, he cried to God from the depths of his heart, and felt he was heard. Then he went out, fortified, scrapped his prepared sermon

and preached instead on John 19:26–27: "Woman, behold, your son… Behold, your mother!" According to those who were there, Blumhardt spoke so passionately about the Savior's love of his own that the drooping heads popped up one by one in surprise; people began to listen and, captivated, went on listening. The sleepiness was gone, never to return.

The real awakening, however, started around Christmas 1843, on that last decisive night of the fight when so many heard the cry, "Jesus is the victor!" The following morning others up and down the valley reported hearing, at the same hour, mournful cries of, "Into the abyss! Into the abyss!" Everybody was disquieted. Blumhardt reported: "They don't talk much about it in the village; but there is obvious amazement and trembling. One after another, they are com ing to me and confessing their sins." Again, it was among members of his confirmation class that he first noticed a new movement afoot. He received letters from several of them secretly confessing their sins. In his classes, the change was tangible. Without telling him, some of the boys even began meeting in one or the other house to pray.

As 1844 began, the movement spread to the adults in the parish. On New Year's Eve a young Möttlingen man known for his revelry and his temper showed up at the rectory entrance. He had, in Blumhardt's opinion,"a bad reputation and a nature so twisted that I avoided talking to him, for fear of being lied to." Now this man stood shame-faced at the door, and asked Hans if he could see the pastor.

"What do you want to see the pastor for?" asked a skeptical Hans.

"Oh,Hans," he replied,"I am miserable! Last night I was in hell. I was told there that the only way to get out again was to see the pastor."

Hans took him upstairs to the Blumhardt's study. Blumhardt offered him a chair, but he said, "No, pastor, I belong on the sinner's bench." Hans, realizing that the man was in bitter earnest, left the room. Blumhardt remembered:

Pale and trembling and not at all himself, he asked me, "Pastor, do you think I can still find forgiveness and salvation?" He claimed he had not been able to sleep for a whole week. If he could not get his burdens off his chest, he said, it would kill him. I remained somewhat reserved and told him straight out that until he confessed his sins in spe cific, I could not trust his sincerity. But I could not bring myself to let such a distraught man go without praying with him. Doing something I had never done before, I laid my hands on him and said a few words of blessing, which visibly comforted him.

Two days later the man returned. Blumhardt wrote to Barth, "Yesterday the poor sinner was back, looking so broken hearted and distressed as he stood in the doorway that the sight of him made one of the housemaids weep." This time the man intended to confess his sins, but still could not bring

himself to do so. On his third visit he finally declared, "Now I am going to confess." – and did.

He confessed his sins, with remarkable honesty, and it gave me my first real insight into the many evils rampant among our people. He was still greatly troubled, and my comfort had no lasting effect. He said that to give him complete peace, I would have to pronounce forgiveness in the authority of my office; he wanted to have his sins formally forgiven. Since I saw no reason not to fulfill his request, I laid my hands on his head and declared that his sins were forgiven. When he rose from his knees, his face radiated with gratitude.

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