How Some Men Have Been Won to Christ
One reason why so many people in the church have been unsuccessful in Christian work is that they make it too difficult a matter. One ought to work for Christ as he plays golf, that is, with perfect freedom. No muscle must be on a tension with the golf player. There must be perfect rhythm in all his actions. This is a homely illustration of the spirit of Christian work, yet a true one. Nothing that savors of cant and nothing that even hints at the unnatural must for a moment be expected to win in the turning of lost men to Christ. Do your work in the easiest way. Talk about your Savior in the most natural fashion. Present Him to your friends as your best fricntl. Show by your countenance that He is even more than you claim for Him. All this must be backed up by consistent Christian living, and there will be little question of real success in the effort.
There are, as a rule, many forces back of the one in whose behalf we labor of which we do well to take advantage.
The influence of a mother counts for more than any human power. In the presence of a great audience of men recently, I asked this question: “How many here came to Christ as a direct or indirect result of a mother’s influence?” and two-thirds of the Christian men in the audience immediately sprang to their feet to testify to the power of the holy living and consistent working of their mothers, many of whom had passed over on the other shore. A group of rough miners in Leadville, Colorado, gave me a respectful hearing, but rather an indifferent one, until I casually mentioned a mother’s love. Instantly there was a change in the facial expression of almost every man present and here and there tears were being brushed away from hardened faces as the picture of their mothers passed before them. In a successful meal’s meeting, conducted by Dr. Alderson in his own church, a traveling man, quite young in years, arose and told, very modestly and feelingly, the following pathetic story:
“Before I left home to go on the road, I had fallen into many bad habits, which gave my Christian mother great concern and anxiety. She feared the result upon my life after I got beyond the influence of my home and came into contact with the ‘drummer’s’ temptations. I was a card-player and very fond of the amusement. I knew that many ‘drummers’ spent their leisure evenings at the hotel and saloon card table, for I had myself often played with them when they- stopped over night in our town. I felt that one of the first requisites of a traveling man’s outfit was a pack of cards. So the afternoon before I was to leave home I purchased a brand new deck, and went to bed that night leaving them in my coat pocket. The next morning I started on the road. Just as I was leaving home my mother kissed me, then laid her face against my cheek, and in a few words pleaded with me to be a good boy and not forget my Christian home. I felt her warm tears flow down my cheek. The first night out found me at Winchester, Ky. Meeting several traveling men during the day, we agreed to put up at the same hotel, and after supper spend the evening with cards. When the time came, as we were seated around the table, one of the men asked: ‘Who has got a pack of cards?’ Quickly I responded: ‘I’ve got the cards all right.’ Thrusting my hand into my coat pocket I pulled out a little package wrapped exactly as I had put it into my pocket the day before, and just about the same size. Unwrapping it in the presence of the others, all eyes fixed upon my action, what was my astonishment and mortification to find instead of cards a copy of the New Testament, which my mother some time in the small hours of the night had dexterously substituted for my cards. I blushed and apologized, and confessed to my friends. We were all deeply afifected. My dear mother broke me not only of playmg cards, but she has been the means of bringing me to Christ, and whenever now I am tempted to do wrong, I can feel the hot tears of my mother trickling down my face.”
The influence of a father is not to be forgotten. Too frequently in paying tribute to mother’s devotion do we forget to pay our respects to the consistent living and the faithful working of the Christian fathers of our land. “How did you come to
Christ?” said one minister to another. The quick response was: “My father’s wresthng for us at the family altar did it. He used to call us by name in his prayers, and I never could get away from his praying.” “And how did you come?” was asked another, and the answer given was: “It was the evening of the day on which my mother was buried, and we children, with our broken-hearted father, were sitting in the log house on the frontier before a blazing fire. I saw my father cutting away a small piece of wood and was interested to see that he had fashioned a cross which he could hold between his thumb and finger. Then holding it up before us in the flickering light, he told us the story of Jesus Christ cradled in a manger, living in Nazareth, preaching in Galilee, sufifering in the Garden and dying on just such a cross as he held up before us. In an impassioned way, he called us to our mother’s Savior and because of his own holy living, that night every child came to Christ.”
I would like to pay tribute to my own father’s devotion to his children in this connection. As a motherless boy, temptations came upon me thick and fast. My father one day called me to his side and said: “My son, I have always tried to live as I should before you. If in any way I have failed, I beg your pardon and ask your forgiveness. May I -say to you, my boy, that if you ever disgrace your father’s name, and are unworthy of your angel mother’s love, you will kill me.” One night there came to me a sharp, sudden temptation to do at least a questionable thing. I started down the street of the city where I then lived, when suddenly,, as I came to a street corner, and was just about to turn into the way which would, I believe, have inevitably meant death, there came up before me the words of my father, and I think that I am a minister to-day because of a father’s devotion to his children and his earnest desire to hold us for Christ.
While preaching in Chicago, a young man was most hopefully converted. He was a graduate of a southern college, had been admitted to the bar, and while giving every evidence of achieving success in his work, he was restless, dissatisfied and in great danger of being wrecked morally. In our meeting I used the illustration of Jonah attempting to go to Tarshish when God wanted him to proceed to Nineveh, and I said that because of this everything was against him. This brought the young man to a realization of his condition, he saw whither he was drifting, realized why it was that he had been so disturbed and distressed, and by an act of his will he stepped out of almost midnight darkness into the clear light of the knowledge of God. The next day he gave this touching testimony m the presence of a great number of men: “Gentlemen,” said he, “I have had peace and blessing during the last twenty-four hours, but may I say that 1 believe the only thing that has influenced my life during these years of my wandering and kept me back from doing many a thing that I might otherwise have done, has been the memory of my father.” Then he drew from his poclpet his father’s picture, and holding it up he said, shaking with great emotion: “This is my father’s picture. I always have thought it the noblest and best picture in the world. He has been dead for five years, and during all that time this face has haunted me. I knew that he wanted me to be a Christian and preach the Gospel, but I hesitated and grieved him inexpressibly. During all these years I could not get away from his look. But during the past twenty-four hours, everything has been changed. I am now looking towards that day when I shall see him once again with that happy smile once more upon his features, for I have determined to preach the Gospel.”
These are but a few illustrations. They could be multiplied indefinitely. Given a boy with a true mother and a noble father, both of them Christians, and there is every reason to believe that the ultimate winning of that boy to Christ will be almost absolutely certain.
The experiences through which men pass are not to be lost sight of when attempting to win them to Jesus Christ. The loss of a mother, an experience in sickness, the sudden accident which almost meant death, these things are as a rule to be taken into account when we attempt to win the lost to Him. One of my best friends in New York, an honored officer of a strong church, once told me this story which aptly illustrates my point. He said, “When I was a boy of about twelve years of age I went with my parents and a brother who was two years older than myself, to spend the summer vacation at a lake in the northern part of the State of New York. This lake was like home to me, for from my earliest infancy my family had been passing the summers there. My brother and myself had been in the habit of going out on the lake to fish, but always accompanied by an older person. The day that I am writing about I shall never forget. My brother and myself had been more than anxious to go fishing by ourselves and with boyhood’s enthusiasm believed if allowed to do so we would show what wonderful fishermen we really were and would return with a string of fish that would fairly astonish our parents and the other guests of the hotel where we were stopping. After numerous entreaties, our father had finally given his consent, with the distinct promise on our part that whenever it became necessary for us to change seats, we would first take the boat ashore before attempting to do so, and on no account would we stand up in the boat. The eventful day finally arrived, and bright and early, with our poles, tackle and bait, we got into our boat and started. We kept our promise that we had made, not to stand up in the boat, and all went well. The time came for us to return, and as my brother rowed the boat back to the hotel we discovered that during our absence an old scow, loaded with wood, had arrived and been tied up to the end of the dock. Then it was that I forgot the promise that up to this time had been so carefully kept, and I said to my brother, ‘You row quietly by the old scow and I will step out on it and run up to the house and let the people know we are home, and you take the boat around to the shore and put her up.’ I stood up, I made a step, the boat slipped away from me, I lost my balance, and in an instant I found myself unable to swim in twenty feet of water. Quickly I went to the bottom; with eyes closed from fright, I came to the surface only to sink again. I tried in every way to swim, but every efifort only made my case more hopeless. I think every sin that I had committed came into my mind, and foremost was the fact that I had disobeyed my father. Presently I realized that the next time I would sink would be the last, when suddenly I heard a voice ringing in my ears, ‘Catch hold of my hand,’ then my eyes were opened and I saw my brother, who had backed up the boat, leaning as far as he could over the stern of the boat and with outstretched hand trying to reach me, I caught hold of his hand, when he drew me gently towards him, and then putting his arms around me he lifted me, with such a strength as I never knew he possessed, safely into the boat and took me to the shore. Years passed by, I grew to be a man, I married and had a family of my own. I was not a Christian; far from it. On account of my family I was a pewholder in one of the prominent churches of New York. I had turned a deaf ear to the religious teachings of my parents. I had grown indifferent. I came to the place where I really did not care for God or man. One night, when I went home from business, I found waiting for me in my home the pastor of the church I attended. He said something like this: ‘I have come to ask you if you will come up to church Monday night. We are
to hold a week of special services. Mr. M, the
evangelist, is to be with us, and I want you to come.’
I was angry for what I called unwarranted interference, and so I said: ‘Dr., thank you, I will
promise you not to come. I am glad to see you on any other subject, but on this subject let me say I go to church on Sunday; on other days I want to be left alone.’ How many times have I wished that I had never so spoken to him!
“Monday night came. I went home and found my wife ready to go to church. I didn’t want her to go alone, neither was I willing to go, and so a compromise was effected. I was to take her to the church door and call for her an hour later. She went into the service. I stood outside. It was a bitter cold night, and at times I felt as if I would perish, and yet I would not go in. Finally I could stand it no longer, and I decided that I would go in and take a back seat and get warm. Thank God I got warm that night, and I have been warm ever since. As the evangelist was speaking it seemed as if he knew me. He pictured my case exactly, disobedient to God, indifferent to His word, forgetful of the prayers and religious influence that parents had surrounded me with in childhood. Then there flashed through my heart and mind the picture of my boyhood’s days, as I struggled in the water and I could see myself now sinking in the waves of sin and, believing this was my last opportunity, that soon I would be lost, then I could hear the voice of Jesus say, ‘Take hold of My hand.’ By faith my eyes were opened. I saw Him then in all His beauty and heard Him say, ‘Come unto mc’ By faith I took His hand; He has put His great loving arms around nie, and with a strength I never even knew my elder brother possessed, has lifted me out of my distresses and is now guiding and taking me safely to the Heavenly shore.
“Some fifteen years have now passed since I found Christ. A few years ago I visited the old lake up north. I rowed by the old dock. A similar old wood scow was again tied up to the dock. As I told my wife and children who were with me in the boat of my narrow escape from drowning when I was a boy I also told them of my narrow escape in later years from being lost in the waves of sin. To-day we have a happy home, every member of the family is a member of God’s family, and Jesus Christ is a welcome guest in our home. I have been telling the simple story of Christ’s love for sinful men ever since He saved me, and I expect to tell it right along until I shall see Him face to face.”