The Minister in the Home by Daniel Nettleton

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jun 1, 1911

The Minister in the Home

By Daniel Nettleton

DANIEL NETTLETON

It was when we were living on our old homestead in Nebraska some fifty years ago. He was a humble minister,—a circuit rider. He came with Bible, hymn-book, and gospel tracts in his saddle-bags, and John 3:16 in his heart. He came in much the same way that Christ came to the home of Zacchæus. We, too, were without hope and without God in the world, sinners by choice and aliens by birth; but he sought us out, and brought the glad tidings of great joy to our home. He spoke in kindly tones to us, and called us children by our names, even as Jesus called Zacchæus by his. That helped us to get acquainted with him, and we soon learned to love him. But we were unlike Zacchæus in one respect,—he was rich, and we were very poor. It seemed to us we needed many things to make us happy. Like Martha, we were careful and troubled; but this man of God brought to us the one thing needful,—the gospel,—and, like Mary, we chose the good part, which has not been taken from us. The impressions made on my mind by that first visit of the minister of God have never been erased. I have been in great assemblies since then; have heard many eloquent speakers, but none of them nor all of them have impressed me or done for me what that humble, earnest preacher did in his visit to my father’s house.

We were in a new country, about seventy-five miles north of Omaha, in the Missouri Valley, where corn is king. There was no railroad west of the Missouri River at that time, and it was about one hundred miles east to the nearest railroad station. Like many others, we came West with ox-teams, took up our claim, built our log and board house, broke prairie to raise corn to buy more land; for land was comparatively cheap then, and we wanted all we could get. There was no family altar and very little Bible reading in our home; we were too busy. We had caught the Western fever—the desire to get rich.

With this westward course of empire came the evangelist, the itinerant preacher. He did not take up a claim, he did not come to get rich; he came to seek and to save the lost, and he found what he came to seek. I was then far away from the Saviour, and I wondered if Christ could save a poor sinner like me. He did save me, and it was a happy day for the minister and for me. Soon after his visit I could sing,—

“No longer in darkness I’m sitting, For the light is now shining on me; And now unto others I’m telling How he saved a poor sinner like me.”

Many changes have taken place since then; many miles of mountains and plains, of hills and valleys, lie between me and the old homestead by the river. But I can see this servant of the Lord now, as I write these lines, sitting in father’s house, Bible in hand, our family gathered about him, reading from God’s blessed Book, and then singing, “Sweet Hour of Prayer,” “Come, Ye Sinners, Poor and Needy,” and “O Happy Day!” I see him praying for us, and hear him mention our names before the throne of grace. Father, mother, and children,—not one was forgotten! That prayer did us more good than if he had prayed for the president of the United States. He sold father a Bible, a hymn-book, and a copy of “Pilgrim’s Progress.” We were soon interested in the blessed Bible stories, and I am still singing the good old hymns that made us so happy then. The reading of “Pilgrim’s Progress” did much to help me to be a Christian. He gave us a few gospel tracts, and they spoke to us when he was absent. When he left us to go on his way, he had won the hearts of us all. He not only shook hands with father and mother when he bade us good-by, but he laid his hands on our heads, and wished us the blessing of our Father in heaven. He gave us a card

with the Lord’s prayer printed on one side and the ten commandments on the other. I learned them by heart, so I could repeat them in the Sunday-school, and I can repeat them now.

Did we attend his meetings, and hear him preach?—Indeed, we did! He was “our preacher.” He had been at our house; he had eaten at our humble table. From him we had learned many precious gospel hymns, which were a great power in bringing us to Christ. Father and mother and several of us children were converted, and united with the church. Father set up the family altar, and from that time till he and mother died, and the old home was left to other people, our house was a house of prayer.

I believe that that minister’s visit and instruction was God’s preparation for me to receive present truth. That experience opened my heart to the third angel’s message, which later came to us through the reading of our good church paper, the REVIEW AND HERALD, and our missionary paper, the Signs of the Times. I was led to become a Seventh-day Adventist; and then, unto me, who am less than the least of all saints, was this grace given, that I should “preach the unsearchable riches of Christ.” Now, after many years’ experience in the gospel ministry, I can truly say that what success has attended my work as an evangelist has not been so much from my public preaching in the congregation as from my personal ministry in the homes of the people. The whole congregation may be convinced of the truth under the influence of the sermon; but it is the tears, and prayers, and earnest personal entreaties of the faithful minister in the homes of the people that lead them to make a decision to serve God, and that bring men and women and children to Christ.

Victories may be won in prayer at the fireside that can not be won in debates, public discussions, or strong, unanswerable arguments in the pulpit. It was Christ’s visit with Zacchæus in his home that brought salvation to his house. It was the night visit with Nicodemus that opened to him, and to many thousands since, the mystery of the new birth. “Ye must be born again,” spoken personally to Nicodemus, startled and aroused the proud Pharisee, and, later, made him a humble, influential disciple. Christ’s visit with the woman at the well not only led her to be a disciple of the Man who told her all things that ever she did, but many of her neighbors testified, “We have heard him ourselves, and know that this is indeed the Christ, the Saviour of the world.” It was not only Paul’s preaching, but his weighty and powerful personal letters, and his teaching from house to house, that made him the prince of soul-winners.

O dear fellow workers! if you read these lines, permit me to exhort you not to neglect this part of our ministry. We must not only feed the flock of God, but we should gather the lambs into our arms, and carry them in our bosom. Not

many of us can be great preachers, but we can all speak a word in season to him that is weary. Remember Christ’s word of commendation at the last great day is, “I was sick, and ye visited me.” The blood of consecration was put not only on Aaron’s ear, but on the toe of his foot; not only did tongues of fire rest on the disciples, but their feet were shod with the preparation of the gospel; and he who is thus prepared, and “goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.”

Port Townsend, Wash.