THE FOOLISHNESS OF GOD IS WISER THAN MEN.
God knows that this world is filled with all sorts and conditions of men, warped by sin, hedged in by circumstances, prejudiced by teaching and race, hardened by evil, and perverted by generations of wickedness. To meet these needs God has chosen types of all these various characters, many of whom are unique and eccentric, but who will reach some souls that the most devoted conservatism, conventionality, and regularity can never reach, and further, God wants his servants always to stand where He can lead and guide them beyond themselves. His Spirit is given for that purpose. John 14:16, 17; 16:13. An instance in the career of evangelist E. P. Hammond illustrates this. We condense from an account of his own:— In the year 1863 I was holding meetings in Rochester, N. Y., most of the churches uniting in the work, and nearly 2,000 persons united with the churches. After seven years I was invited to go back there to hold another series of union services. As I had kept no record of the sermons preached and the illustrations used, I was constantly studying for something fresh, which I had never used there before. One day I had but little time to study the subject for the evening. I knew that Dr. Shaw’s large church would be crowded, and I felt greatly burdened for a blessing upon the people. My constant prayer was: “Cast me not away from thy presence, take not Thy Holy Spirit from me.” I felt that the little I had in mind was but “a few loaves and fishes, with which to feed the multitude.” In Matt. 14:17, they said unto Jesus: “We have here but five loaves, and two fishes. He said, Bring them hither to Me. . . . And looking up to heaven, He blessed, and brake, and gave the loaves to His disciples, and the disciples to the multitude. And they did all eat, and were filled.” Thus I brought, in earnest prayer, what little I had to Jesus for His blessing, that it might be multiplied so as to feed the multitude. While speaking to the Christians, I sought to urge upon them the importance of courage and holy boldness in fighting the battle of the Lord. I called their attention to those passages in the Acts, where the words “bold,” “boldness,” and “boldly” occur, and thus, by examples from God’s Word, and by the promises, I endeavored to strengthen the faith of God’s people. At this point a new illustration occurred to me which I never before thought of using in a religious meeting. It was in October, 1854, at Balaklava, during the war in the Crimea, that Lord Lucan gave the order to “The Light Brigade,” numbering 630, to advance. “Advance whither?” was the question. “There is the enemy,” was the reply, “and there are the guns.” Truly, there they were. Six battalions of infantry, six solid masses of cavalry, with thirty heavy guns in position directly in front of them, batteries on the right, and slopes on the left, lined with riflemen and light field pieces; and a mile and a half to be traversed before they could meet the enemy. Truly, this was a ride “into the jaws of death;” yet these noble men, “the flower of England,” made the attempt. They took the guns, they cut their way through the infantry, and through the cavalry. By some blunder they were not supported, yet they cut their way back under the fire of the Russian guns,—“all that was left of them, left of six hundred.” When a boy in college, I had repeated Tennyson’s “Charge of the Light Brigade” as a declamation, and so, under the inspiration of the moment, I threw my heart into it, and made it as vivid as possible before the solemn gathering in Dr. Shaw’s church, crowded in every part. The scene of that dreadful carnage was pictured before us all, as we beheld those valiant men cut down like the forest before the tornado. “Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
‘Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!’ he said.
Into the valley of Death,
Rode the six hundred.” [He recited the whole poem.] Just as I began to repeat this, a lady pressed her way in and stood by the open door, and not waiting for the application, she said to one of the ushers: “I thought this was an evangelistic meeting.” “So it is,” was the reply. “But I heard that poetry repeated over at the Corinthian Hall half an hour ago by a Shakespearian reader, in that same way. I don’t see any Gospel in that.” “But you have not waited for the application; you may yet find something good taught by it.” At the close of the service, good Dr. Shaw came to me, asking, “Why did you put Tennyson’s ‘Charge of the Light Brigade’ in your sermon to-night?” “I can’t tell; it came in and out,” said I. “But I think it was a mistake, for some seriously objected to it. I do not want you or the meeting criticized. I hope you will never use that in a sermon again. It was too dramatic.” “I am sorry if I made a mistake. I know I was much in prayer for guidance of the Holy Spirit, before coming to the meeting. I am sure I felt my own weakness and inability to accomplish any good without His help; and it was my prayer that I might be led only by the Spirit of God.” On my return home that night I said to my wife, “I think I must give up preaching.” “Well, some were greatly displeased with the meeting to-night.” I did not like to tell her, for I knew how much she respected the opinion of Dr. James B. Shaw, but she continued her inquiries till I had to tell her that Dr. Shaw was greatly disturbed at the meeting. “What!” she exclaimed, “why did not Dr. Shaw like it?”4 I did not wish to tell her, for I feared she might be as much trouble as Dr. Shaw had been. Again she asked, and at last I had to tell her it was because I repeated Tennyson’s “Charge of the Light Brigade.” “Why, Edward, what did you do that for? I never knew you to do such a thing before; surely there was no Gospel in that, and you are always talking about the importance of the Gospel being found in all the illustrations used in such meetings. What Gospel is there in the ‘Charge of the Light Brigade’?” That was a hard question to answer. She felt sorry about it, and so did I—worn out as I was with fatigue. I did not feel much better after, like a boy. I had had a good cry over the matter. I did not sleep much that night. Long before breakfast time the next morning, I was called to meet a gentleman in the drawing-room, a fine, noble-looking man. He astonished me by saying:— “I was one of the six hundred who fought our way to the redoubt at Balaklava, and one of the thirty-six who came out alive. “When the war broke out, I came to this country and espoused the side of the North. I have faced death in a hundred battles; but never till last night, when you repeated the ‘Charge of the Light Brigade,’ did I feel what a miserable, ungrateful sinner I was. I seemed to be in battle again. I saw my comrades cut down on my right hand and on my left, and the thought came to me, Why has God spared my life when I have so long been rejecting His Son who died on the cross for me. This seemed to be the greatest sin of all. What I heard you say of His sufferings and death came vividly before me, and the tears fell fast from my eyes. As I looked around I noticed my wife, sitting by my side, bathed in tears. I found that she, too, was under deep conviction of sin. God had used those same words to show her that she must come to Christ or be forever lost. When we reached home, we fell on our knees and cried to God, for Christ’s sake, to forgive us our sins and to make us His own children. That prayer was soon answered. This morning we both awoke happy. I could not wait for breakfast. I felt I must come and thank you for bringing that wonderful scene before me so vividly through those verses. “I fully believe the Lord led you to do this. He knew, very likely, that nothing else would lead me to realize my lost condition and see my need of Christ. I was shown my great ingratitude in not loving Him who, as by a miracle, spared my life, when nearly all my comrades were cut down in that fearful carnage. It was His Holy Spirit that led you to send those words home to my heart. They lifted the veil of forgetfulness and made me to hear the cannon’s roar, belching forth death. I now see that my soul has indeed been brought
through the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell.” I can never cease to thank you for repeating Tennyson’s “Charge of the Light Brigade.” At the morning meeting, which filled the Presbyterian Church, this gentleman,—Professor J. F. Godfrey was his name—stood up and related, in substance, what he had that morning said to me. Many were in tears. Dr. Shaw, with much emotion, walked across the platform, and taking me by the hand, asked my pardon for what he had said the night before. “God, I believe,” he added, “was answering your prayers in leading you to repeat that ‘Charge!’ He knew the effect it would have in bringing this man and his wife to Christ. His ways are not our ways, nor are His thoughts our thoughts. May the Lord help each of us to give ourselves up entirely to Him to be led by the Spirit, offering the prayer of the psalmist, ‘Teach me Thy way, O Lord.’”