Glimpses of "The Field" No. 1: Winning Souls to Christ
By Mrs. S. M. I. Henry
GLIMPSES OF “THE FIELD.” NO. 1.
The first practical work of every Christian is to persuade men from sin to Christ; and the best methods of doing this should be studied with more carefulness than any upon which worldly business success seems to depend. In beginning any work for any purpose, good or bad, one of the first requisites is to learn how to meet the people with whom we are to have dealings; to know them as they are, and learn how to overcome any hindrances which may exist in their minds, or in their surroundings. Nowhere is this of more importance than in soul winning. Environment is such a tremendous factor in salvation, difficulties of the most material kind are so mighty in keeping a soul from the way of life, that we can not ignore them. All doors must be located by us, opened, and kept open. Nothing in ourselves must be allowed to close them, or to build up a barrier between us, as those whom God has sent, and any human soul. The progress of the Gospel is hindered more by the barriers which workers themselves build up between each other, than by anything else, unless it may be that spirit which would lead us to take offense at the peculiarities or unfavorable conditions of those whom we are to help, and to cultivate a favorite to the neglect of others. There will be those who are less disagreeable to one of refined sensibility than are others. One individual will seem entirely above his surroundings; he may have abilities and gifts which are worth cultivating if they are to be used for God, but otherwise not, and, before there has been any change in habit or association to warrant it, much is made of him, to the neglect of others who do not make so favorable an appearance, but who may be worth vastly more in all that indicates possibilities of character. Such a course will kill any mission work, because God can not honor it. It will make division, build barriers, and bring Him who is “no respecter of persons,” into contempt. The people will be quick to discover a spirit that cares for appearances instead of needs. None are able more quickly to see what is consistent or inconsistent in Christian living and work than the slum classes, in so far as they understand the principles involved. Their wits have been whetted by contact with the hardness of the world, and they are on the outlook for selfishness; and hence they will find it wherever it exists, and know it for what it is. If we win them, we must avoid anything like a spirit of partiality. Treat each one alike; that is, give the due proportion of care and attention to each, according to actual needs, remembering that the most needy have the strongest claim, and that the most wicked are the most needy. The most unpromising have a right to anything, everything, that will bring them up toward the average level at least, and so give them a fair chance among their fellows. If it is discovered among “our people” that we really care for those that are the most needy; that we do not look at the outward appearance, but, like true representatives of Christ, are only anxious that the sorrows and distresses of the world shall be relieved, anxious to do our full share of the work to accomplish this, it will be telegraphed from heart to heart. It will be said: “That man is sincere, he is true blue, he is the right stuff. He is not after what he can get, he is really trying to do good.” A sentiment like that will spread and grow, slowly, maybe, out from under stones of prejudice and hate; but it will grow, and influence the whole field, like a fertilizer poured into barren soil. An evil report from one about another is a handicap to any good work. It must be understood in our field that no one can get a hearing for anything, against anybody. If any one undertakes to retail an evil report about any person, it should be received by deaf ears. The gossip may insist, and say, “But you ought to know this about this person.” Then we must answer: “If so, I will find it out in God’s own way. If it is something which I ought to know, he will himself discover it to me; but I can not hear it from you.” Steadfastness in this position is of vital importance. Any one who goes out with the Gospel, either to tell or to live it, will have constant occasion to stand for the principle which this involves. Those who are perhaps paying money for the support of the work, those who are looking on, but who would never touch it with the little finger, will think that they have a right to tell the missionary a great many things to the prejudice of others; but as surely as it is received by him, it will do its mischievous work. The effect will be to have closed some door which should have been kept open, and which must be reopened before he can do anything in that field. Listening once to an evil report may make necessary an entire reconstruction, and perhaps many changes. It may have been told as a dead secret, but the tongue that told it once, will tell it again, with all and more than has been said in reply. Every one will know that this representative of Christ is not above listening to such whisperings, and will have no further confidence in him. The “every creature,” who is the person spoken of in the Gospel commission (Mark 16:15), is a very peculiar creature, whom we must try to understand if we are to take the Gospel to him. We must take him as God does, not as the world does—that is, as a naked soul, entirely distinct from his environment. Natural aversion to disagreeable things must be overcome, and oblivion to surroundings cultivated as a Christian grace. A story of experience will illustrate. A certain W. C. T. U. missionary was sitting at her desk in the mission room, by the window writing. Glancing out, she saw a man turned out of a saloon. He staggered to another near by, and sat down on a beer keg, under the awning; but he was not wanted, and very soon a man in a white apron came and ordered him to “move on.” He obeyed, stopping under the awning of the next saloon, only to be again ordered to move on. He had evidently spent all his money, and was therefore not wanted inside, nor was he wanted outside, where he could be considered as a sign, or sample, of the kind of work which was done within. It was raining, and this W. C. T. U. woman ran down the stairway, across the street to the poor fellow. “Come up to the Temperance Headquarters,” she said. “You can have shelter there from the rain.” A good Christian man who kept a store near by saw her, understood, and came to her help, and between them the man was taken up the stairway into the mission. It was a late autumn day, and the fires were going. The half-drunken man was placed in a chair by the stove in the corner, the only thought being to get him dry. This woman had not had experience enough yet to know what the consequences would be; but perhaps my readers can imagine. He became very sick, and soon some strange work had to be done. There was no one to whom she could give that job; and, under the circumstances, she would have given it to no one if she could. It was her own special service for Him who had said, “Ye have done it unto Me.” Her interest in that man’s salvation had in those few moments become such that she thought of nothing but what was required for the comfort and cleanliness of his wretched body and soul. Her heart was full of prayer while she worked as a soul-winner, with water and towels, to remove that filth of sin out of the way of the Gospel. While she was busy, down upon her knees, the door opened, and her pastor entered. He was one of the most careful of men, the embodiment of neatness and refinement, a noble Christian man, but one who could not endure the sight of anything uncleanly. He gave one glance, an exclamation of disgust, and, saying, “I will come again some other time,” bowed himself out. A few days later he met that member of his flock, and, as he shook hands with her, he said— “Sister —, I have not been able to keep you out of my mind since I saw you the other day in the mission.” “No, I presume not,” she said. “Well,” he continued, “do you know what I thought? I tell you you have mistaken your calling. I do not believe God has given you, or any other Christian woman, that sort of work; and the sooner you get out of it, the better it will be. I have had it in my mind to come down and say this to you.” “You and I look at it a little differently,” she said. “I would not have missed that work for anything.” “You would not have missed it! Well,” he said, “I confess I can’t understand you.” About three months afterward, during which5many things had happened in the mission, as well as in the church to which she belonged, and she was enjoying a talk with her pastor about it, the minister mentioned a certain young man who had been converted in the mission, and had recently united with the church. He had been at once recognized as a man of very fine ability, and made unusually welcome by pastor and people; and now the “doctor” spoke of him in the highest terms, as a man “worth saving,” one for whom it would “pay to spend a great deal.” “That sort of result gave one great courage in the efforts which were sometimes discouraging.” The “doctor” expressed himself warmly, the missionary agreed with him perfectly, and, finally, when he had thoroughly committed himself, she said:— “Do you remember the last time that you called at the mission?” “Shall I ever forget that?” he replied with a look of disgust. “Do you remember what I said to you about it? It was a shame.” “O, but listen!” she said. “Doctor, that young man about whom you have been talking just now is the result of that day’s work.” “What do you mean?” he cried. “Just this, that young man is the result of that day’s work.” “You don’t mean that he is the same young man?” “Is that possible?” and his color changed, while tears filled his eyes, and began rolling over his cheeks. “It is the truth,” she replied; and, while she went on and told the story, of which he had seen the beginning and ending thus far, he received a revelation of what it meant to be a preacher of the Gospel; and when she had finished, he arose, and, laying his two hands on her head, he said:— “Well, all that I can say is, God bless you, God bless you, God bless you.” The point which I wish to illustrate by this bit of experience is this: We must forget the man in his soul. We must be ready to wade through filth, if necessary, to win a soul; must be able to forget that it is filth, ignore it as such; be able to take hold of it, if necessary, without shrinking, as we would of anything else which has come in the way of life, and must be removed at whatever cost. Just the moment we should begin to count it as filth, instead of simply an impediment, it will become unforgettable, and take our thought from the life that is to be rescued and saved, and become a personal incumbrance. Nothing is so filthy as sin; and as long as we have that to deal with, anything which can be done for its removal is clean work, however it may appear. The disagreeable things connected with sickness and feebleness are easily ignored by those to whom the patient is dear, as well as by those who care for the sick from humanitarian and Christian principles. But when it is debauchery!—Ah, but we must learn to recognize debauchery as only a symptom of that most deadly sickness, sin, and then we shall be able to look through it, as those who look through a wall, and see nothing but the soul,—just the soul which Christ died to save, and which is so far beyond all price for value, that we can well afford to go through or handle anything to reach and save it! MRS. S. M. I. HENRY. Sanitarium, Battle Creek, Mich.