I Want To be Gooder by George F. Pentecost

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jul 13, 1882

"I Want To be Gooder."

By George F. Pentecost

It was at the close of a preaching service in connection with a series of gospel meetings in a manufacturing town in New England. The meetings were held in a large hall, and the custom with us was to dismiss the congregation, and ask all those to remain who were interested in the matter of their salvation. Probably one hundred persons remained to be spoken to and conversed with by Christians who had tarried for that purpose. By half past ten most of the inquirers and Christian workers had left. I had been engaged all the evening with a most obstinate unbeliever, anxious for his salvation, but full of difficulties and excuses, which were not reasons for not accepting Christ. I had finally to leave him that night. He was so utterly wedded to his "own ideas" that there was no opportunity left in his mind to hear or consider God's thoughts, which are not our thoughts.

Somewhat disappointed and sorrowful that I had been able to win no soul to Christ that night, I turned to get my coat and hat, to go to my lodgings. As I walked toward the platform, where my wrappings were, I noticed seated alone on one of the benches, what seemed to be a little boy. As I passed him, I thought to myself: Why is that boy sitting there alone and at this late hour? So I went back to him, and sat down by his side. On this closer inspection I found him a lad of perhaps fifteen years. He was very dirty, face and hands grimmed with factory grease; hair uncombed; mouth defiled with tobacco, which made its appearance in juicy coloring about the lips, and amber drops lingering in the corners of his mouth. Meantime, he was chewing his "quid" vigorously. He was small of his age, being one of the stunted factory children often seen in New England towns, having been put in the mill almost before he was old enough to leave his mother's side. After this survey of him, I put my arms kindly about his shoulders and said: "Well, my boy, what are you waiting here for?"

The reply was the laconic "I dunno."

"What made you come in for at all?"

"I just wanted to see what was going on and to hear the singing."

"Well, why do you stay longer, now that nearly everybody has gone?"

"I dunno. 'Cause I don't feel good."

"Do you want to be a Christian?"

"I d'no. I dunno what that is."

"Why it is to be saved from your sins and become God's child. Would you not like to be God's child? That is to be a Christian."

"I'd like to be gooder. That's what I like to be."

"Well, my boy, that is what Jesus will do for you if you will take him for your Saviour. He will not only make you "gooder," but he will forgive all your sins and give you a new heart."

"I dunno what you mean by that."

And therein he was like Nicodemus. Indeed, he was a young Nicodemus come to Jesus by night. He knew that he wanted to be "gooder," but he did not know how he was made so. In fact, under the preaching and singing of the gospel, that poor, ignorant boy had been made to feel his sin, his moral short-coming and spiritual need. I talked with him a little while about and of Jesus, and how he had come into the world to save sinners; how he had died for us; and that God had raised him up from the dead; and that he was now in Heaven, looking down upon him then and loving him; and that the Holy Spirit was now opening his blind eyes, to see his sin and need, and so prepare him to give himself to Christ. A good deal of this he did not seem to understand, especially how Jesus could be "away up in Heaven," and yet know anything about him; and particularly he did not know how he was to give himself to Christ. Nevertheless, I went on preaching or talking Jesus to him, trusting the present Holy Spirit, who had awakened him and detained him in the inquiry-room, to enable him to "understand these things" which are dark not only to ignorant factory-boys, but are alike incomprehensible to the natural man when grown to years, and "wise and prudent" in the knowledge and wisdom of the world. Finally, as thousands older and younger have done before him, he asked:-- "What must I do to be saved?"

I at once replied: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." But this he did not understand. I tried to explain to him the nature of faith in relation to Jesus Christ; but was unsuccessful, for at length he said:-- "I don't know what you mean by believing on Jesus Christ."

Apparently dropping the subject, I turned to him abruptly, and said:-- "Where do you work?"

He looked up, evidently greatly surprised at this sudden turn in the conversation, and told me that he worked in a certain factory, naming it.

"What do you do in it?"

"I works in the picking-room."

"Is it a good job?"

"No, sir; 'tain't! Its long hours and poor pay."

"How long do you work?"

"Oh! different. Sometimes ten hours and sometimes fourteen, according to the way the mill runs."

"And what pay do you get?"

"Only but fifty cents a day."

"Well," said I, "now, Johnny, suppose Mr. So-and-so," naming the manager of a large mill in another part of the town, "should come to you, and say: 'Johnny, I want a boy to work for me in my mill, and I will tell you what I want him to do. I want him to work four hours a day in the mill with two of my own boys, that I am bringing up to know the business. Then I want him to go to school a half-day. I will give him a dollar a day, and he shall eat at my table and live in my house with my boys; and, indeed, I will be a kind father to him and take good care of him.'" The little fellow listened intently to this imaginary proposition, with an amused smile of incredulity upon his face; but when I had finished, and asked him "Johnny, if such an offer was made to you, would you accept it?" with a smile that spread all over his face, and even up out of the grime and dirt, and far quicker than I can record it, he answered:-- "You bet I would! And mighty quick!"

"But, Johnny, what would you do with the old job?"

"I'd throw it up higher'n a kite."

"And then what would you do?"

"Why, of course, I go to work for the new boss. But, say, Mister, you are 'chaffing me' now." With something of a sorrowful look upon his face, as the momentary vision of a better job, which I had conjured up, faded away from his imagination.

I saw the cloud move over the smile that a moment before had been upon his face, and, with a great throb of pity and love in my heart for the boy, I said to him:-- "No, Johnny, I am not chaffing you. You are working for a hard master now, and are having long hours and poor pay. Every one who is living in sin is serving the devil, and the only pay you will get by and by is death. But, my boy, God loves you, and he has sent Jesus into the world to tell you so and to offer to make you his child, put you to work for him, and finally take you to Heaven. Now, Johnny, will you accept this new situation and become God's child? That is what I mean by believing on Jesus Christ and accepting him. Will you take him for your Saviour and new Master?"

Once more the smile came back into his face, and, with straightforward, honest love in his eye, he said:-- "Is that it? Then I'll take Jesus Christ for my Saviour."

"But, Johnny," said I, "what will you do with the old job of sin?"

Still another ray of light came into his face, and, with compressed lips and firm and determined voice, he said, evidently remembering his other answer: "I throw it up."

"That's it, my dear boy. That is what it is to become a Christian. It is to take Jesus for your Saviour, who forgives all your sin, and for your new Master, and God for your father in Heaven, and throw up the old job of sin. And now will you kneel down here with me, and tell Jesus that you have taken him in your heart, to be your Saviour and Master?"

"Yes, sir." And, with that, he fell upon his knees beside me, and, after I had offered a prayer of thanksgiving, and for the Lord to keep him and make him steadfast, I asked him to pray, which he did, substantially in these words: "Lord Jesus, I take you for my Saviour, and I throw up sin. Help me to be gooder than I am and to serve you right." I said the "Amen."

I introduced him to one of the pastors, who had been waiting for me the half hour I had been with my little inquirer, and told him how he had thrown up his old job and asked him to look after him.

I was in that city months afterward, and asked the pastor after "Johnny," and he told me he was walking uprightly. Amongst other things, he had "thrown up his tobacco."

"Let the wicked forsake his way and the unrighteous man his thought, and let him return unto the Lord, who will have mercy upon him, and unto our God, who will abundantly pardon." -- Rev. George F. Pentecost, in Independent.