Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Bolu Church Leaders 3
Bolu Church Leaders 3
Bolu Church Leaders 3
Herrnhut.
Something like that is what happened to a 22-year-old German nobleman in 1722. His name was Niklaus
Ludwig von Zinzendorf. His estate was in East Germany. He was heir to one of Europe's leading royal
families. As you might expect, the neighbors were not too pleased with his offering the "riff-raff" asylum
near them. But there was no stopping the influx. The first group of ten arrived in December, 1722. By May
of 1725 there were ninety. And by late 1726 over 300. The place was known as "Herrnhut" meaning "The
Lord's Watch." It soon developed into a small city of grateful and motivated Christian craftsmen and
laypeople.
As Zinzendorf looked at what he had gotten himself into, he began to realize that instead of being burdened,
he was being blessed with one of the historic opportunities of all time. His refugee crowded estate within a
little more than a decade would be transformed into one of the most dynamic and strategic missionary
launching pads since the early church.
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Anthony, a former slave, came to speak at Herrnhut of the deplorable conditions of the slaves in the
West Indies. The night he spoke, two of their young Moravians could not sleep as they struggled
with a sense that God was moving their hearts to offer themselves to go and minister to those slaves.
When they were told that perhaps the only way they could do this was to become slaves themselves,
they said they were willing if that is what it would take.
Their first two missionaries, Leonard Dober and David Nitschmann, left Herrnhut on August 25,
1732 to sail for St. Thomas.
Thereafter, other lands were studied and more missionaries were sent. They went to the toughest
places under the most severe conditions. Many of them quickly died. For example, of 18 who went
to St. Thomas as reinforcements for the work begun by Dober and Nitschmann, half died within the
first nine months. But, the more that died, the more that volunteered to go to replace them. Within
25 years more than 200 had gone out as missionaries from this small community to every continent
of the world.
Their influence spread far beyond their own efforts. Consider two notable examples. Moravians
played the key role in the profound religious experience of John Wesley. Wesley went on to lead the
Methodist movement. William Carey is popularly hailed as the "Father of Modern Protestant
Missions." But William Carey sailed 60 years after the first Moravian missionaries went to the West
Indies. Carey would probably insist that the real father of modern missions was Zinzendorf and the
Moravians. In Carey's classic "Enquiry Regarding the Obligation of Christians" he used the
Moravian experience as a model. In his letters and journal he often referred to them and drew
inspiration from their example, and in his "Serampore Compact" -- a covenant for Christian
missionary community living -- he again appealed to Moravian precedents.
Their influence extended to North America. The Moravians founded two communities in Eastern
Pennsylvania -- Bethlehem and Nazareth. Zinzendorf personally came to the colonies. Not far from
the offices of Christian History Institute, and long before the word "Ecumenism" was in vogue,
Zinzendorf pled unsuccessfully with the various religious communities in Eastern Pennsylvania to
transcend their European denominational backgrounds and witness and work together as one Body
of Christ.
While in America, Zinzendorf legally renounced his titles because he found them an impediment
among the colonists. Benjamin Franklin was present at the ceremony, which was conducted in Latin
in front of the Governor of Pennsylvania. Zinzendorf was said to be the only European nobleman
who went among the Indians, visiting their leaders as equals.
Though Zinzendorf did not promote the abolition of slavery, inside the Moravian Church slaves
were truly equal. In Bethlehem, PA, at the Single Sisters' House you could find a German
noblewoman, a Delaware Indian, and an African slave sleeping side by side in the same dormitory
room. Where else in the world at that time might that occur?
Zinzendorf endured much criticism for allowing women to preach and to hold roles of leadership in
the church.
A New Phenomenon
Think of what it would mean if everyone in your church thought of themselves as missionaries. They did at
Herrnhut, and this represented a significant development in the history of Christian missions. Eminent Yale
University historian, Dr. Kenneth Scott Latourette, in his classic History of the Expansion of Christianity
commented, "Here was a new phenomenon in the expansion of Christianity, an entire community, of
families as well as of the unmarried, devoted to the propagation of the faith. In its singleness of aim it
resembled some of the monastic orders of the earlier centuries, but these were made up of celibates. Here
was a fellowship of Christians, of laity and clergy, of men and women, marrying and rearing families, with
much of the quietism of the monastery and of Pietism but with the spread of the Christian message as a
major objective, not of a minority of the membership, but of the group as a whole."
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"GOD AND ONE ARE A MAJORITY" MARY
SLESSOR: FROM FACTORY GIRL TO
LEADING AFRICAN MISSIONARY
She was one of the most incredible missionary women ever. Her life seemed like one great
adventure with God. Her mission began on her mother's lap. As a child, her mother taught her about Calabar,
the deadly coast of Nigeria, known as "the white man's grave." Like other Scottish children, she donated her
precious pennies to help the mission work. Eventually she asked the Presbyterian church to send her to
Calabar, too.
Mary Slessor -- a red-haired Scottish lass who went as a missionary to Africa and was successful in helping
bring an end to many tribal abuses such as human sacrifice.
In 1875, her answer came in the mail. "Dear Miss Slessor, I take great pleasure in informing you that the
Board of Foreign Missions accepts your offer to serve as a missionary, and you have been appointed teacher
to Calabar." Mary, a twenty seven-year old factory worker, rejoiced to read those words.
But could she go when her family needed her income from the factory? From the age of only eleven she had
worked in the sweat shops of Dundee as a common mill hand, preparing jute and flax for the weavers. In
time, she had become a skilled weaver herself, able to manage two sixty-inch looms at once, turning out
ships' canvas, sacking, sheets, and cloth. While a little girl, and exhausted by her work, for she was "wee and
thin and not very strong," Mary still made the most of her opportunities. She attended school when not
working and learned reading, writing, arithmetic, geography, sewing, knitting, and a little music. If she was
too tired to follow the arithmetic problems, the teacher punished her by making her stand during class. In
winter, when the nights came early, she dodged drunks and thieves as she walked home in the dark to do her
chores and face her father. And facing her father was not something to look forward to.
She was quick with her tongue. She described herself as a "reckless lassie" full of mischief, who ran
barefoot, jumped, and climbed trees like a boy. She would never completely outgrow her tomboy practices.
But one day an old widow gathered Mary and some friends around her hearth. Pointing to the fire blazing in
it, she warned them that unless they repented and believed in Christ, their souls would "burn in the lowin'
bleezin' fire for ever and ever!" The words startled Mary, and she turned to Christ.
After she became a Christian, Mary tried to help children whose lives were as bleak as her own. She held
Bible classes to tell them of the friend she had found in Christ Jesus. She took classes of boys into the
countryside for picnics and raced and played with them. Her behavior raised the eyebrows of people in the
pews who always wanted things done "properly."
Some toughs did not want to hear what Mary had to say. They jeered and slung mud at her. Once they
surrounded her while their leader whirled a lead weight around and around on a string, approaching closer
and closer to her face. She stood without flinching, praying inwardly, but determined not to duck or run. The
lead grazed her forehead, but she stood with steady eyes. The ringleader dropped the lead. "Its OK boys.
She's game!" He made his whole gang attend meeting that night. With persistent effort she led many
youngsters to Christ.
Off to Africa
On August 5, 1876 she sailed for Africa aboard the S.S. Ethiopia. When she arrived in Calabar Mary quickly
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learned about cruel gods carved of wood and stone. The Nigerians sacrificed humans to these gods. Mary
put her own life on the line, trying to rescue slaves and women from death. She also fought against the
practice of judging by ordeal. A person suspected of doing wrong might be forced to eat poison beans, or
boiling oil might be poured over him. The gods were supposed to protect the innocent from harm, but of
course they didn't. Every one tested by these methods was "guilty." Such cruelty infuriated Mary. When one
man poured boiling oil on the hands of an eleven year old boy, she grabbed a scoop of the scalding liquid
and chased the man to pour it on him to show him that he was not innocent either. Everyone laughed, except
the poor boy who was still screaming in agony.
Another horror was the treatment of wives after the death of a husband. They were automatically suspected
of witchcraft. A chicken was beheaded in front of each wife. Depending on how it flopped, the wife was
pronounced guilty or innocent. The legs of the "guilty" wives were broken and the women thrown alive into
their husband's grave. Ma Eme, a chief's sister, went through this ordeal. Her chicken declared her innocent,
and she fainted from relief. After that, she often informed Mary secretly when ordeals were happening so
that Mary could rescue the accused women.
Mary contracted malaria. She had to return to Scotland. On furlough she told church women about Calabar
and many became interested in her work. Strangely, although Mary was very bold to talk to African chiefs,
she was too shy to speak in front of men in Scotland's churches.
One twin became so sick that Mary took her into the hills where it was cooler. She brought her other babies
with her. A leopard entered her tent and seized a baby boy in its mouth. Mary grabbed a flaming stick and
drove it into the leopard's face. The leopard dropped the boy and fled howling. Fortunately, the boy was not
hurt.
While at Old Town, Mary ate African food and learned African ways. With simple medicines she cured
sickness. When trade routes were cut off by a war, she secretly led men across the mission station at night so
they could sell their goods. When Chief Okon asked her to visit Ibaka and teach his people about Christ, she
was brought up river in an impressive war canoe with thirty-three oarsmen.
However, Mary again became ill and had to return to Scotland. When she recovered, she could not go
directly back to Africa because her sister was dying. The last three members of Mary's family died within a
year of each other. It was almost two years before Mary could return to Africa.
Up-Country
More than ever, she wanted to work up country. The mission board was afraid to send her alone, and other
missionaries did not like to work with her because she lived a helter skelter life. Mary could not change her
style, as it was so much part of her. And she knew that she always had to be ready to drop everything at a
moment's notice to help where she was needed in order to save lives. Finally the mission gave in. On August
4th, 1888, Mary set out for Okoyong. The canoe landed near dusk. An eerie silence hung over the forest. No
one met her. It turned out everyone was at a funeral. Mary had to find her way to a hut in darkness and
pouring rain. To calm the fears of the children with her, she sang silly songs. "What is courage, but faith
conquering fear?" she asked.
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From then on, Mary worked alone, pushing further and further inland. Because Mary understood the
people's customs so well, they brought their quarrels to her to settle. The British government made her a
vice-consul with authority to judge. When the slave trade ended, the people of the countryside needed new
income. Mary helped them make peace with the people on the coast so that they could trade palm oil in
exchange for goods.
She made a major contribution in bringing an end to some of the worst ways. She grabbed women and took
them to her house before they could be forced to drink poison. More than once she sat up all night, or even
several nights, to protect slaves from execution. When the natives insisted on clinging to cruel practices,
Mary asked the British to send an armed force into the interior to "palaver" with the chiefs. The expedition
won a peaceful end to some of the evils. More importantly, Mary increasingly and widely helped the
Africans recognize that lives were worth saving.
In 1914, she fell so sick that she was taken by canoe to the government hospital. She recovered for a few
weeks but collapsed again in January. As she lay semi-conscious she whispered "O God, release me." She
died January 13, 1915. She had not ended all evil practices, but she had an extraordinary influence for good
over thousands of square miles of Africa.
Years after Mary's death, African women still reenacted the story of the time she drove off a hippopotamus
by yelling and waving her umbrella. "God and one are always a majority," Mary often said.
Believers have been going there to retrace the steps of Jesus for a long time.
Now over two million people travel to the Holy Land every year to visit
places important in Bible history.
Most of us would feel privileged if we could get a week or two in the Biblical locations. Imagine what it
would be like if you could take three years tracing your Christian and Biblical roots. That is exactly what a
mysterious lady did long ago and she was wise enough to keep a diary of her travels. And she would be
happy to know that we are reading her notes, especially since they were lost for hundreds of years.
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implacable foes of paganism. What relationship, if any, Egeria might have had with these devout ladies is
unknown.
After a stay in Jerusalem, Egeria made other journeys to Biblical sites -- to Mt. Nebo where Moses died (in
modern Jordan), and Harran, where Job's tomb and Abraham's house could still be seen (in modern Turkey).
Egeria traveled the main caravan and trade routes. At times Roman soldiers provided an escort. Faithful
monks provided hospitality and guidance along the way, continuing a tradition of hospitality dating from the
earliest days of the church.
The most interesting portion of Egeria's narrative, however, is her account of the worship practices of the
Jerusalem Christians. At least six churches in Jerusalem were all established on places associated with major
events in the life of Christ.
Daily and Sunday services at the churches focused on the particular importance of each site in Jesus' life, but
the close proximity of all the churches soon led to a seasonal, annual series of celebrations, with each church
playing a specific part in the yearly liturgy. Egeria described this pattern of worship in detail.
What made worship at the Jerusalem churches so unique was that the churches were at the geographical
locations where the most important events of Jesus' life, and in all of human history, had occurred. A pattern
of retracing, reliving, and re-enacting the last week of Jesus' life naturally grew up in association with these
churches. Large crowds from throughout Jerusalem, as well as pilgrims from elsewhere, gathered to
participate.
In addition to the regular daily services at all the Jerusalem churches, additional times of prayers, hymns,
and Scripture reading were held during Holy Week, or the Great Week as the Jerusalemites called it, to
remember the events of Christ's last week on earth. On Tuesday the bishop led the people to the Eleona
Church on the Mount of Olives and read to them Jesus' teachings to His disciples from Matthew 23-24. On
Wednesday evening, a priest read the passage where Judas Iscariot went to the Jews to set a price for his
betrayal of the Lord. The people moaned and groaned, and many were moved to tears. On Thursday, special
services were again held at the Mount of Olives churches, and then the bishop and people went to
Gethsemane. After a prayer and hymn, the Scripture describing the LordÍs agony in the Garden was read.
Egeria noted that no one failed to be a part of the remaining ceremonies, tired though they might be from
their long vigils and fasting. In the early hours of Friday they made their way back to the church of the Holy
Sepulchre, where the bishop read the Gospel accounts of Jesus before Pilate. Before returning briefly to their
homes, the people went to Mount Zion to pray at the pillar in Caiaphas' house where Jesus was whipped.
Friday was the most solemn day of the Great Week in Jerusalem. In the morning the wood of the cross
Queen Helena had found was brought out for reverence. For hours pilgrims filed by to see the holy relic. But
for Egeria, the three-hour service that began at noon was most meaningful. Nothing was done during all of
that time except the reading from the Scriptures. And so, from the sixth to the ninth hour (12-3 p.m.),
passages from Scripture are continuously read and hymns are sung, to show the people that whatever the
prophets had said would come to pass concerning the passion of the Lord can be shown, both through the
Gospels and the writings of the apostles, to have taken place. And so, during these three hours, all the people
are taught that nothing happened which was not prophesied, and that nothing was prophesied which was not
completely fulfilledƒ
Every one, young and old, was moved to tears with the realization that the Lord suffered for them.
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In Jerusalem Egeria found a greater emphasis on the preaching of Scripture than she had known in her home
church. The people were always learning about the Bible and the love of God. As they walked to and from
the various holy sites and heard the Scriptures read, they were able to involve themselves in the historical
life of Jesus. As pilgrims like Egeria came to the Holy Land, more and more Christians became familiar with
the annual cycle of feasts commemorating the life of Jesus that had grown up there. Many churches
elsewhere had known nothing like the lessons from Scripture regularly connected with the feasts, but
gradually these became part of the liturgy and worship of other churches. The Christian year, with its annual
celebrations of all aspects of Jesus' life, soon became the established worship pattern of the church. At a time
when few people had a copy of the Scriptures themselves, this annual cycle of Scripture reading connected
with the life of Christ was an important way of confirming the Christians in their faith. In Egeria's account of
her pilgrimage, we have a detailed account of worship in Jerusalem during the early centuries of the church,
a pattern of worship that continues to influence the Church down to our own day.
I must also describe how those who are to be baptized at Easter are instructed. Whoever
gives his name does so the day before Lent . . . and this is before those eight weeks during
which, as I have said, Lent is observed here . . . on the first day of Lent...a throne is set up
for the bishop in the center of the major church, the Martyrium. The priests sit on stools on
both sides, and all the clergy stand around. One by one the candidates are led forward in
such a way that the men come with their godfathers and the women with their godmothers.
Then the bishop questions individually the neighbors of the one who has come up,
inquiring: "Does he lead a good life? Does he obey his parents? Is he a drunkard or a liar?"
And he seeks out in the man other vices which are more serious. If the person proves to be
guiltless in all these matters . . . the bishop . . . notes down the man's name with his own
hand. If, however, he is accused of anything, the bishop orders him to go out and says: "Let
him amend his life, and when he has done so let him then approach the baptismal font." He
makes the same inquiry of both men and women. If, however, someone is a stranger, he
cannot easily receive baptism, unless he has witnesses who know him . . . .
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HARRIET TUBMAN: THE BLACK
MOSES AND CONDUCTOR ON THE
UNDERGROUND RAILWAY
A Narrow Escape
T he boatman eyed the pair of black women suspiciously. "You just stand aside, you
two; I'll attend to your case later." Inwardly the women trembled. They knew that
their forged pass could not withstand close scrutiny. Harriet Tubman led young,
terrified Tilly to the bow of the boat where no one else was standing. Then Harriet
knelt, fixed her eyes on the water, and groaned a prayer.
After she escaped to freedom herself, Harriet made 19 daring and dangerous trips
back to rescue other slaves.
"Oh, Lord! You've been with me in six troubles, don't desert me in the seventh!" She continued to pray as
Tilly's panic mounted.
Finally the boatman came over and touched Harriet on the shoulder. Tilly thought the game was up. She
would be returned to the South for a whipping and a forced marriage. Harriet would go to prison, or be
burned at a stake--the death one friend predicted for her.
"You can come now and get your tickets," said the boatman. It was but one of many narrow escapes for
Harriet Tubman.
Harriet was a conductor on the underground railroad. This meant she led runaway slaves to freedom in the
northern states or Canada.
One mistress who paid only a pittance for the hire of young Harriet, expected her to slave night and day. By
day, she must clean and cook, and by night rock the little white baby so the mistress could sleep in peace.
Should Harriet fall asleep and the baby cry, a lash was at hand. Scars on Harriet's neck proved that the whip
was often employed. Needless to say, Harriet's body broke down, and she was returned to her owner,
exhausted and starving. Her mother nursed her back to health. The hardship served a purpose. She learned to
go without food and sleep when she must. This ability stood her in good stead in the long nights when she
guided other slaves to freedom. Indeed, she insisted that slave owner cruelty served to prepare her for the
rescues that made her name legendary.
When she recovered a little, her master rented her out to another brute who made her to lift and haul heavy
burdens and flogged her if she failed. She grew strong. Later, brawny men marveled at her feats of strength.
Once more, her body broke down, but she kept her powerful muscles. Years later, she saved a slave from
capture by dragging him out of a sheriff's office and carrying him to safety against the resistance of a sheriff
and deputies.
Her need for divine assistance was great. When she was about thirteen, an overseer cracked her skull by
flinging a two pound weight at a disobedient slave whom Harriet had refused to help tie up.
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She fell into a stupor and wasted away almost to nothing. Once again her mother nursed her. As she lay on
her bed, her master offered her for sale, assuring slavers that Harriet would be a real work horse once she
recovered. No one would give much for her, even when she regained a little strength and was able to totter
about. As a result of the blow, she suffered bouts of uncontrollable sleepiness until the end of her life. This
sleepiness made her appear stupid. Behind the appearance of laziness and stupidity, however, was a keen
mind, that prayed for her master: "Oh, dear Lord, change that man's heart and make him a Christian."
Broken hearted, she began to pray without ceasing. When she washed, she asked to be washed white of sin.
When she swept, she pleaded to be swept clean in her soul.
Harriet's Escape
Christian mystics claim that God can communicate directly with a heart that is in touch with him. Harriet
may not have known what a mystic is, but she seemed able to hear the Lord's voice. In some mysterious way
that she could not fully explain, he warned her to flee northward. She urged her brothers to join her, and they
started north toward freedom, but the men soon fell away from fear of the consequences should they be
caught. Harriet went on alone. Traveling at night, she fixed her eyes on the North Star. By day she hid. Like
the revolutionary orator Patrick Henry, she knew she was entitled to liberty or death. If she could not be free,
she vowed not to be taken alive but to fight with all her strength. Guided by God and assisted by an almost
superhuman cunning, she made good her escape.
She escaped to find herself alone. There was no one to help her, none of her own folk to share her joy. All
remained behind in slavery. She came to a solemn resolution: She would make a home for her family in the
North and, by the Lord's help, bring them there. "Oh, how I prayed then, lying on the cold, damp ground,
'Oh, dear Lord, I ain't got no friend but you. Come to my help, Lord, for I'm in trouble!'"
Many times Harriet experienced narrow escapes. Always the Lord sent help. She had to lie wet in a swamp;
she had to bury herself in a potato field--but deliverance came, sometimes through a friend on the
underground railway, sometimes by her own wits. She gave the Lord the credit. As biographer Sarah
Bradford wrote, ". . . sudden deliverance never seemed to strike her as at all mysterious; her prayer was the
prayer of faith and she expected an answer . . . . When surprise was expressed at her courage and daring, or
at her unexpected deliverance, she would always reply, 'Don't, I tell you, Missus. It wasn't me. It was the
Lord!' " Thanks to Him, she could declare, "On my underground railroad, I never run my train off the track
and I never lose a passenger."
A Narrow Escape
Once a premonition warned her she must turn aside from the path and cross a swollen stream at once. Not
knowing the depth of the river, the men with her hung back. Harriet stepped boldly in, and found it never
came above her chin. When the men saw she was safely across, they followed her. Later Harriet learned that
a party of toughs had been waiting on ahead to seize them. Except for the whisper of warning to detour in
her mind, she would have been captured. And yet Harriet had to pay for her boldness. Traveling in those
wet, cold clothes, she became seriously ill.
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Harriet's persistence was notable. She would never ask for anything for herself, but when others were in
need, nothing could suppress her bold insistence. Once the Lord warned her inwardly that her parents were
in special danger. She felt he told her to go to a certain house and ask for twenty dollars. The owner of the
house told her that the Lord had sent her to the wrong place. Harriet would not budge, but drifted asleep,
waking only long enough to insist that she wasn't leaving until she got the money. Visitors passing through
the busy house spread her story and collected $60 for her. Her father, it turned out, was facing criminal
charges for helping runaway slaves, and the money was needed to whisk him to Canada.
Well might he be astonished. Elizabeth von Thuringia was born in 1207 in the royal castle of Pozsony
(Bratislava, Czechoslavakia). Her mother, Gertrude, was a committed Christian from a long line of
Christians, and she imparted the faith to her daughter. Elizabeth's father, Andrew II, fought valiantly in the
crusades but was not an exemplary king. His nobles forced him to sign Hungary's Magna Carta, the so-
called Golden Bull. Two aunts and an uncle set examples of faith for their niece. Aunt Hedwig founded a
convent for lepers, Aunt Mechthild became abbess of Kitzingen, and Uncle Egbert was bishop of Bamberg.
When she was not yet two, Elizabeth was pledged in marriage to the son of a Hungarian nobleman in
Thuringia, then part of the German Empire. When she was four years of age, Elizabeth was sent to live with
her prospective in-laws to be raised according to their customs at the Wartburg Castle.
Elizabeth brought great wealth to the marriage and now possessed more. She had the choice of five castles to
live in and so she was called "Elizabeth of many castles." But wealth did not impress her. Although she
dressed handsomely, in brocade dresses with round necks and sleeves that flared from her elbows, or bright
flowing Hungarian silks that hugged her womanly figure, she said she did so only to please her husband.
They lived at first on the Danube, and Elizabeth rode across the shattered nation with Ludwig, viewing
firsthand the devastation left by the Golden Bull revolt of the Hungarian nobles. But when she became
pregnant, she moved to Kreutsberg castle.
At the birth of her son, Herman, she carried him in her arms and walked barefoot to St. Katherine's chapel
where she recited Psalm 127: "Children are a heritage of the Lord, and the fruit of the womb is his reward."
She did the same for two other children, consecrating them to the Lord. Affected by Franciscans St. Francis
of Assisi was preaching in those days, calling people to repent, cast aside the chains of wealth, and show
kindness to the poor and lepers. Franciscans arrived in Thuringia in 1221 and their message stirred
Elizabeth. It corresponded to the goodness she had learned from her parents. She longed to share her own
blessings with the poor. Placing herself under the instruction of Brother Rodeger, she opened eastern
Europe's first orphanage and tended lepers, undertaking even the dirtiest jobs of their care with her own
hands. This outraged her in-laws.
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convent turned her away. She was forced to spend the night in the courtyard of an inn among jars and
baskets. She prayed that Christ would forgive those who had wronged her.
The next day some faithful ladies brought her children to her. She hugged the little ones and said to Herman,
"May God so love me, I know not whither to turn, or where to rest your little bodies, though all the lordship
of this town is yours, dear son." Her loyal ladies promised to follow her wherever she went. They took
refuge in the church that night. A poor priest brought them into his own home, and Elizabeth sold the few
small jewels she was wearing so that they could buy food. A few days later, a wealthy townsman gave them
a corner in his house.
As she prayed, Elizabeth reflected on Christ's sufferings. Her Lord, too, had been outcast, and borne cruel
abuse. She asked Him to be with her, saying she desired never to be parted from Him. The Lord showed
Himself to her in a vision and said, "If you desire to be with me, I desire to be with you." We know nothing
certain about her vision except that she refused to wear crown jewels when entering church to meditate on
Christ, because she had seen Christ crowned with thorns, and thought it unfitting for her to enter His
presence crowned in gems.
Reinstatement
The crusaders who had ridden forth with Ludwig spoke up for Elizabeth. They demanded that her full
domain be restored to her. For her part, she asked only for the restoration of her son's rights and her dowry
so that she might have enough money to carry out good deeds. Eventually she gained her point and her
inheritance was restored. Elizabeth tried living in a castle which was hers by dowry and later another which
was hers by right of marriage, but Henry's ill-will was so great that she finally built a simple cottage and
hospice in Wehrda, near Marburg. Later Elizabeth became a lay Franciscan --the first in the German Empire.
She devoted the revenues from her dowry to building a hospital where she attended the sick and spun wool.
For extra income, she fished. Hers was one of Europe's first leprosariums. Many more followed and helped
wipe out the disease from Europe. Dead of Exhaustion at 23 years old However, she overdid her exertions
and died, probably of exhaustion. As she lay dying, she was heard singing in response to a bird upon the
wall. At cock-crow of her last day, she said, "It is now the time when [Christ] rose from the grave and broke
the doors of hell, and He will release me." Her body was laid in the little chapel she had attached to her
hospice.
The blind, the lame, the demon possessed and lepers came to her funeral. A mere four years later, the
Church named her a saint. Two hundred thousand people gathered for the occasion, convinced that Elizabeth
had entered into a castle far grander than any of the five she had inhabited while alive on earth. For
centuries, her self-sacrifice inspired works of literature and art.
Amy Carmichael did not let disease keep her from service.
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One of her recent rescues was five-year-old Kohila. Kohila's guardians wanted her back. Amy refused to
return the little child to certain abuse. Instead, she made plans to cause the girl to "disappear" to a safe place.
Amy was too well known to spirit Kohila away herself. So she arranged for someone else to do it. The plot
was discovered. Charges were brought against her. Thus Amy faced a seven year prison term.
Youthful Escapades
There was a bit of rebel in Amy. If trouble developed at the Carmichael house, she was almost sure to be a
ringleader in it. There was the time squeaks interrupted family devotions. Amy feigned ignorance, but the
truth came out. The frozen mouse in her pocket had revived.
Another time she led her brothers and sisters in a challenge to see how many poisonous laburnum pods they
could eat before they died. Fortunately they emerged with little more than upset stomachs. There was
another time when she led them through a skylight onto the dangerous roof.
After three years of boarding school, Amy returned home because her parents no longer had the money to
support her education. Mrs. Carmichael took sixteen year old Amy out to buy a dress. Amy found a beautiful
one -- royal blue -- but turned away from it. Her mother was surprised, but Amy explained that clothes were
no longer as important to her as they once were now that Christ had given her new purpose in life. She
would wait a year until her parents were better able to afford new clothes for her. She never got that dress,
because the next year, Mr. Carmichael died unexpectedly.
The Carmichaels lost all their money through financial reverses and a change became necessary. Mrs.
Carmichael decided to move to England and work for Uncle Jacob. Amy and another sister joined her. Uncle
Jacob asked Amy to teach his mill workers about Christ. Amy threw herself into the work, living near the
mill in an apartment infested with cockroaches and bed bugs. However, she was constantly sick with
neuralgia and had to lie in bed for days at a time. It was clear she must give up the work.
Go, Girl, Go
For years, Amy wanted to be a missionary. Now this desire grew so strong it hurt. She prayed about it and
wrote down the reasons she thought it couldn't possibly be God's intention. One of the first things on the list
was her sickness. But in her prayers she seemed to hear the Lord speak as if He were standing in her room,
saying "Go."
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"Surely, Lord, you don't mean it," she said. Again the voice said, "Go."
Nevertheless she set off for Japan in the company of three missionary ladies, a letter having been sent ahead
offering her assistance to missionaries there. Tears scalded her as she sailed on March 3, 1893.
Amy had a constant passion to witness for Christ. On board the ship even the captain was converted to
Christian faith after observing how cheerfully Amy faced the dirt and insects onboard.
Adjustments in Japan
Once in Japan, even before she learned the language, Amy went out to witness. Her interpreter, Misaki San,
suggested Amy wear a kimono, but Amy was cold and her neuralgia was bothering her. She preferred her
western dress and kept it on. The two visited a sick old woman who seemed interested in the Gospel. Just as
Amy was about to ask her if she would repent, the woman caught sight of her fur-lined gloves and asked
what they were.
Driving home, Amy wept bitter tears. Never again would she risk so much for so little, she promised. From
then on she wore Japanese clothes while witnessing.
Once when she was about to visit the Buddhist village of Hirose, Amy asked the Lord what she should ask
of Him before she went. She felt impressed to pray for one soul. A young silk-weaver heard their message
and became a Christian. Amy's neuralgia kept her in bed for a month after that. But the next time she went
out, she again felt she must pray, and the Lord told her to ask for two souls. The silk-weaver brought two
friends, and they gave themselves to Jesus. Two weeks later, Amy felt impressed to ask for four souls. This
was more souls than many missionaries see won to Christ in a year.
The visit went badly. Amy wondered if she hadn't mistaken an arithmetical progression for the leading of the
Lord. No one seemed interested in the gospel. Misaki San reminded Amy that the evening service still lay
ahead. Not many came to the evening service. Those few seemed distracted. Amy was almost in tears. She
wanted to run out, bury herself in the snow. Suddenly the spirit changed. A woman spoke up and asked the
way to Christ, and then her son came in and committed himself to the new religion also. At the home of
some Christians that evening another woman accepted Christ and the next morning a fourth.
Again Amy was ill, this time for a month and a half. For two weeks the Lord impressed Amy that she should
ask for eight souls. The other missionaries chided her. "It is not faith," they said, "but presumption." With
astonishment, Amy heard them advise her just to pray for a blessing. "Then you won't be disappointed."
Amy insisted that the Lord himself had wrestled with her. She was terrified, she said, and would never ask
this in her own strength. An older missionary agreed with her. He read God's promise from Jeremiah that
nothing is too hard for the Lord. "Let us pray for her," he said.
Needless to say, eight souls took the Christian way on that visit. Amy did not receive any more impressions
for numbers of souls. In fact, her neuralgia became so bad that the doctor told her she must leave Japan for a
more suitable climate.
15
So On To India
After some struggle and confusion Amy accepted that she would be better off in India. Once there she
learned about the temple girls. Even Christians were against Amy when she stepped into the struggle to end
the wicked service required of the little girls. They thought she exaggerated the situation. Indeed, the truth of
what went on behind the scenes was so hard to get at, that Amy found she must pretend to be an Indian and
visit the temples herself. Dressed in a sari with her skin stained, she could pass as a Hindu. Now she
understood why God had given her brown eyes. Blue eyes would have been a dead giveaway!
Amy's experiences were proof that the Lord truly is in charge of our lives. Even when she became
permanently bedridden, God had plans for her. She wrote books that became a deep spiritual witness.
Amy did not go to prison. A telegram arrived on February 7, 1914, saying, "Criminal case dismissed." No
explanation was ever forthcoming, but those who know Amy's Lord suspect He had a hand in the decision.
When Ramabai was eight years old, her mother began teaching her Sanskrit. The girl applied herself
diligently. By the time she was twenty, she could recite 18,000 verses of the Puranas, a Hindu holy book.
She learned many of the languages of India: Marathi, Bengali, Hindustani, Kanarese, and English, clearly
demonstrating that women are fully capable of learning.
"We bad no common sense, " wrote Ramabai, "and foolishly spent all the money we had in hand in giving
alms .. to please the gods... We went to several sacred places and temples, to worship different gods and to
bathe in sacred rivers and tanks to free ourselves from sin and curse, which brought poverty on us. We
prostrated ourselves before the stone and metal images of the gods and prayed before them day and night...
16
But nothing came of all this futile effort to please the gods--the stone images remained as hard as ever and
never answered our prayers.
Dying of starvation, Anant drew Ramabai to him. "Though his blind eyes could see me no longer, be held
me tightly in his arms, and stroking my head and cheeks, told me, in a few words broken by, emotion, to
remember how he loved me, how he had taught me to do right, and never to depart from the way of
righteousness.
"His last loving command to me was to lead an honorable life .. and to serve God all my life. He did not
know the only true God, but served the--to him--unknown God with all his heart and strength; and he was
desirous that his children should serve Him to the last. 'Remember, my child' he said, 'you are my youngest
and most beloved child. I have given you into the hand of our God; you are His, and to Him alone you must
belong, and serve Him all your life. "'
Potent Compliment
Pandita Ramabai's immense knowledge impressed Calcutta's Hindu scholars. They called her "Pandita,"
which means "learned." She was the first woman ever awarded this tide. Leaders asked her to lecture their
wives on the duties of highborn Hindu women. Studying Hindu scriptures that had formerly been denied to
her, Ramabai found that the books disagreed on almost everything--except that women are worse than
demons. She could not believe this because her father had taught her otherwise.
"Hells on Earth"
If women in India ranked low, widows ranked lower. Some were burned alive on their husbands' funeral
pyres. Many who were allowed to live were forced to become slaves. Others were sent to temples as
prostitutes to make money for priests. Pandita had seen all of this and was indignant.
There are thousands of priests and men learned in sacred lore... They neglect and oppress
the widows, and devour widows' houses ... hire them out to wicked men so long as they can
get money; and when the poor, miserable slaves are no longer pleasing to their cruel
masters, they turn them out in the street to beg their livelihood, to suffer the horrible
consequences of sin, to carry the burden of shame, and finally to die the death worse than
that of a starved street dog. The so-called sacred places--those veritable hells on earth--have
become the graveyards of countless widows and orphans.
But she felt that God was nudging her to go to England. Although she had no money, she set out, taking her
daughter with her. At St. Mary's Home in Wantage, England, Church of England sisters took her in, taught
her about Christ, and baptized her. Later she said God had led her into a strange land just as he led Abraham.
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From England, Ramabai traveled to the United States, where she studied education and spoke to assemblies
about India's needs. She published an influential book, The High Caste Hindu Woman. Interested Americans
formed an organization to support her.
Other projects followed. Many women came to her--girl brides so abused they were terrified of a touch;
older women, snarling like animals from years of cruelty. On farmland inherited from her family and land
bought from a liquor dealer, she created a refuge called Mukti, which means "salvation" in many Indian
languages. There she developed orchards and taught arts that would support women.
But many widows refused to come to Mukti. Their minds were filled with dread of Christians. ". . They
think that some day after they are well fattened they will be hung head downward, and a great fire will be
built underneath, and oil will be extracted from them to be sold at a fabulously large price for medical
purposes. Others think that they will be put into mills and their bones ground.... They cannot understand that
anyone would be kind to them without some selfish purpose."
Holy Burning.
In the history of the church, there are times when the Holy Spirit moves with extraordinary power among
God's people. They awaken to their true spiritual condition. Pandita and 550 women prayed for such a
movement to come to Mukti. On June 29, 1905, a large group felt the Spirit's presence. Weeping, they
confessed their sins. Women testified to a holy burning that was almost unbearable.
Was Ramabai the Greatest Indian Woman in the Past 1,000 Years?
Vishal Mangalwadi thinks so. He is an internationally renowned scholar and the author of India: The Grand
Experiment, Beyond the New Age, The World of Gurus, and many more. He comments, "There are good
reasons to nominate Mrs. Indira Gandhi as the Indian Woman of the 20th Century. However, had she been
born a century earlier, she would have been married off to a Brahmin as an illiterate girl before she was 12
years old. And had she refused to be burnt alive on her husband's funeral pyre, she would have had to spend
her widowhood in seclusion as an inauspicious woman. The woman who began reforming India's attitude
towards women was Pandita Ramabai Sarswati--a builder of modem India. Pandita Ramabai is the Indian
woman of the Millennium."
Anatomy of a Hoax
Ramabai and her brother came to a lake in which seven sages supposedly took the form of seven
"mountains." For a purified person, the mountains swam forward, but for the evil stood still. The mountains
stayed put for Ramabai and her brother. Despite warnings from the priests that crocodiles lived in the water,
the brother swam to the islands at night. He found that they were built on rafts which a priest pushed forward
at a signal from shore after a pilgrim proved his virtue with a coin.
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A Merciful Reprieve
Ramabai's learning was not in vain. In the last 15 years of her life, she mastered Greek and Hebrew to
translate the Bible into Marathi. As death neared, she prayed for ten days to finish the proofs and God
granted her exactly ten.
Harriet Beecher Stowe. Was her book really responsible for the war?
An Outrageous Act
Earlier that year, 1850, the Fugitive Slave Act was enacted in the United States. It ordered free citizens to
help arrest and return runaway slaves to the south. Anyone who gave food or shelter to an escaping slave
was subject to a $1,000 fine.
Under this act, fear reigned in white and black alike, and terrible outrages occurred. A black waiter named
Henry Long was violently seized at the Pacific Hotel in New York. He found that he was claimed by John T.
Smith of Richmond. Despite the fact that he had worked at the hotel long before his alleged date of his
escape, he was sent south. "Is it possible that ... in all this nation of freemen there is not one deliverer brave
enough and strong enough to rescue him?" raged Harriet.
She hurried home from church and wrote down a few scenes. As soon as she was done, she summoned her
hungry children--dinner was suspended while she wrote-and read aloud what she had written. "Oh, Mama,"
sobbed one. "Slavery is the most cruel thing in the world!"
Ideas now whirled through Harriet's mind like snowflakes in a blizzard. She would need a full novel to tell
the story. Bailey could serialize it, she suggested. Thus Uncle Tom's Cabin was printed in installments
between 1851 and 1852.
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"Wished it Had Been a Boy"
Harriet was born in Litchfield, Connecticut, on June 14, 1811, the seventh child of the renowned preacher
Lyman Beecher. "Wished it had been a boy," he remarked. Although he doted on his daughters, he would
have preferred Harriet to be another son who could follow him into the pulpit.
Oddly enough, Harriet was not the first in the family given her name. The fifth Beecher child had also been
named Harriet, but died of whooping cough weeks after birth.
Harriet was just four years old when her shy, blushing mother died. Lyman was devastated. He described
himself as like a child shut out in the dark. Harriet never forgot those words. The responsibilities of the
household fell upon fifteen year old Catherine, the oldest of the Beecher daughters. From then on, Harriet
turned to Catherine as to a mother in times of trouble, and the two exchanged letters all their lives.
By age six, Harriet was reading adult books, but hated writing. That soon changed. One of the greatest
triumphs of her life came when she was twelve. She saw her father's face brighten when an essay on
immortality was read anonymously. How Lyman beamed when it won first prize and he learned that it was
his own daughter's. She treasured that moment of approval more than the success of any of her later stories.
Sermons in Choctaw?
In spite of her aptitude for reading, Harriet found it hard to understand her father's sermons. They might as
well have been written in Choctaw for all the good she got from them. Its Calvinist God seemed unfair to
her. But one day when she was fourteen "a certain pathetic earnestness in his voice" caused her to listen to
the sermon more closely than usual. She began to cry. As they came home from church, she told her father
that she had given herself wholeheartedly to Christ.
After one of their children died, Harriet and Calvin dabbled with spiritualism for solace, but Harriet repented
of the practice and reminded her husband that it was unbiblical. Calvin could not be persuaded to give it up.
Harriet thought that she had written a conciliatory book. Most of her slave-owners were shown as kindly
people trapped within a system they had not created. In her eyes, radical abolitionists, wishing to use any
means whatever to rid the nation of the curse of slavery, were more detestable than slave owners. But
contrary to Harriet's expectations, the book heightened the anger of the South, who called it lies, and
inflamed the and-slavery emotions of the North. Abraham Lincoln believed it triggered the Civil War. When
he met Harriet during the war he remarked, "So this is the little lady who made this big war!"
Some of her descriptions, such as that of Augustine St. Clare, run on too long. Irritating to a modem reader
is Harriet's tendency to stop and talk directly to him or her. "And oh! Mother that reads this, has there never
20
been in your house a drawer, or a closet, the opening of which has been to you like the opening again of a
little grave? Ah! happy mother that you are, if it has not been so."
But the "fault" that some readers secretly find most irritating is Harriet's frequent introduction of faith into
her pages, words like, "Depend upon it, God will bring you into judgment for this."
Today Uncle Tom is acknowledged as an outstanding work of American fiction, perhaps the nation's greatest
book, especially notable for its vivid characters. Uncle Tom, Simon Legree, Eva, and Topsy are
unforgettable. Eliza, crossing the Ohio river by leaping from chunk to chunk of ice, is an indelible image
based on a true story. There are wonderful flashes of wit as when property "gets into an improper state of
mind."
Whatever critics say, Harriet wielded her pen as an instrument for justice. Her book draws a powerful
emotional response from the reader.
He wrote quietly against slavery until a lynching, in which a black man was burned alive. Then his editorials
roared with such wrath that his foes forced him to move to Illinois. Three times his presses were destroyed
by pro-slavery mobs.
On November 7, 1837, a mob attacked his latest press. Gun in hand, Lovejoy warned the rioters off. One
rioter was shot. Lovejoy himself was killed. The incident fueled Northern rage.
Harriet's exposure of Byron's villainy met with hostility from the public and destroyed her popularity.
Harriet was strongly affected by Miller's interpretation of prophecy. In 1842 she wrote to Calvin, "Now by
the grace of God I am resolved to come home and five for God. It is time to prepare to die. The lamp has not
long to bum... eternity is coming. Will you, dear husband, join with me in simplicity and earnestness to lead
a new life...."
In 1843, Miller's date arrived, but Christ did not. A backup date also failed.
I retired wearied to rest. But I was put to the proof at starting: scarce was the light out, when I fancied a few
dogs must be in the room, and, in some terror, I got a light." To her horror, she saw rats in every direction.
"My first act was to throw on my cloak, and get at the door with the intent to leave the building." She
hesitated, however. If she ran now, she would be the laugh of the town. Her plan to shelter immigrant girls
would be ruined.
"I therefore lighted a second candle, and seating myself on the bed, kept there until three rats, descending
from the roof, alighted on my shoulders. I knew that I was getting into a fever, in fact, that I should be very
ill before morning; but to be out-generalled by rats was too much. I got up with some resolution--I had two
loaves and some butter (for my office, bedroom, and pantry were one); I cut it into slices, placed the whole
in the middle of the room, put a dish of water convenient, and with a light by my side, I kept my seat on the
bed, reading Abercrombie, and watching the rats until four in the morning. . . . " At one time, she counted
thirteen at the dish. "The following night I gave them a similar treat, with addition of arsenic..."
Treated as Trollops
Commitment to Christ kept Caroline closeted with rats. She had seen the desperate need of immigrant girls
arriving in Australia in the late 1830s and early 1840s. A newcomer to Australia herself, Caroline learned of
their plight when she saw a group of girls standing confused and dejected on the shore. She spoke with them
and found that they were sleeping at night in the shelter of "The Rocks," Sydney's crime district, with
pathetic bundles of belongings beside them. Told that they must leave ship within ten days whether they had
jobs or not, the girls had nowhere to turn. No one would hire them. Although most were decent orphans,
they were branded by society as trollops. Part of the problem was that the majority were Irish, and the
Protestants of Sydney despised their Catholic faith. Another problem was past experience. Criminals on the
ships gave a bad name to the rest. And some of the girls had turned to prostitution out of desperate hunger.
Shocked by Sydney's neglect of the young women, Caroline studied the immigrant problem. She saw that
orphans, criminals and the insane were dumped on Sydney. She decided that the whole emigration problem
must be her field. Once when she left, a letter from an immigrant girl brought Caroline back to Sydney and
she found more shocking conditions. She could not harden her heart and stopgap measures could not
appease her conscience. She wrote, "From this period, I devoted all my leisure time in endeavoring to serve
these poor girls, and felt determined with God's blessing, never to rest until decent protection was afforded
them."
Caroline persisted in her appeals, the governor, in his rejections. He told her she overrated the powers of her
mind. Meanwhile, she won permission to make a free mailing and to survey the interior to learn what jobs
were available, what they paid and how best to transport young women to them. Gipps called her to his
office. "Mrs. Chisolm! When I gave you the privilege of a free mailing, I presumed you would address
yourself to the magistrates, the clergy, and the principle settlers; but who pray are these John Vardys and
Dick Hogans and other people of whom I have never heard since I have been in the colony?" Caroline
replied that the "respectable" men would have to go to their overseers to get the information and would
22
answer vaguely. "I want to know, as nearly as possible, what numbers of laborers each district can absorb
and of what class and at what wages." Gipps saw her point.
Sir George Gipps folded. Caroline could have a few feet of barracks. But she must not count on the
government for a penny of the costs!
On her way to catch the steamer, she ran into Flora, a young woman she'd helped before. Flora had been
drinking and became rude.
Caroline sensed that she was contemplating suicide and stayed by her. Tenderly she asked about her mother
and drew her story from her. The man Flora had taken up with had left her. Her brother had disowned her.
Flora pointed to the spot where she meant to drown herself.
After making Flora promise not to kill herself, Caroline found her a room. She saw this "chance" encounter
as an example of Special Providence. It put new boldness in her. From then on she would depend on God's
help.
Protestants Pile On
Immediately afterward, the Rev. Stiles of the Church of England said that Caroline's project was a worthy
one. He would support it if she could overcome his objections. Caroline did. Stiles contributed and was
followed by several other clergymen. From then on, the work was funded and Caroline proved her worth.
In that year, she assisted over a thousand immigrant women. She herself took them up country and found
them jobs in homes and inns. She wrote a simple contract to protect any who were hired.
Changes in the immigration system allowed Caroline to return to her family. But she remained deeply
involved with the immigrants, writing, testifying before the House of Lords in England, and organizing a
more rational immigration system than the one that had dumped criminals, the insane, paupers and solitary
young women into Australia.
Madras Momma
When Caroline married him, Lieutenant Chisolm was assigned to Madras, India. Proper society lived in a
fort in Black Town, however, orphans were sold like cattle, and girls either married young or became
soldiers' women.
Caroline opened a school for the girls. Although it was not "proper," she asked Archibald to move to Black
Town where she could personally supervise the work. Honoring his promise, he agreed. Caroline's practical
regimen included housekeeping, market buying, cooking and the three R's. She concluded that only love was
reliable enough to act as a consistent motivator to learning. She encouraged her students to commit
themselves to their tasks out of love of family. She employed the rod sparingly.
While in India, Caroline bore the first of her nine children. By 1837 Captain Chisolm was due for furlough.
The Chisolms decided to visit Australia. Caroline found it hard to give up her school, but she had built it
well and knew it could survive. After a seven-month voyage, the Chisolms reached Sydney-and Caroline's
immigrant work.
Unfairly Forgotten?
Caroline suffered in old age from dropsy and a bad heart. Lying in bed in England, she missed Australia.
Archibald and she were in need, for they had contributed heavily to charity. A few days before her death,
she partook of the bread and wine of communion just is she had done before every major change during her
life. She died of bronchitis.
The Times gave her ten lines, but Australian papers printed only a notice paid for by her children. Eventually
Australia put Caroline's portrait on its currency.
--------
She half-expected that the family would find her dead. After all, she had prayed for years without peace. "I
cannot remember the time from my earliest childhood that I did not want to be a Christian and would often
pray alone," she wrote. But she found no assurance of acceptance with God. She envied wind, sun and
moon, because they obeyed God, whereas she had often disobeyed. In her superstition, she even asked them
to carry prayers to Jesus.
24
Perhaps if she would go to the altar rail at the front of the church, she might find peace with God. She did
not want to embarrass herself, but eventually the ache inside of her grew so strong she went forward. She
came away as miserable as ever. Satan taunted her that there was no salvation for her: "God does his work
quick."
Amanda was ready to throw in the towel in her search for God when a whisper said, "Pray again," and so she
went to the cellar. Once again her prayers seemed futile. Darkness settled on her.
In desperation, believing God would strike her dead because she had promised to get saved or die, she
looked up and said, "'O, Lord, if You will help me, I will believe You,' and in the act of telling God I would,
I did. O, the peace and joy that flooded my soul!" From that day forward, Amanda had two ambitions: to
know God and to tell others about Him.
One of Amanda's freeborn sisters was sold into slavery while visiting an aunt in Maryland. Amanda had to
borrow fifty dollars to buy her back. Such experiences taught her how dreadful slavery was. When she found
hope in Christ, she praised God that she was twice freed.
The consequences of her bad marriages followed her through life. She suffered poverty and had to work
long hours and starve herself so that her children might eat. All but one of her five children died in infancy,
perhaps the result of lying in damp rooms while Amanda sweated over laundry. The one daughter who lived
to maturity died in her twenties. Amanda's hardships taught her to bring every detail of her day to the Lord
in prayer. She trusted him not only for salvation, but for shoes. Her autobiography recounts Christ's faithful
dealings with her and Satan's whispers to turn her from obedience.
"No."
25
"He was found dead in his bed this morning; he was at the fair the other night well and hearty." Curiosity
prompted Amanda to go look at him. "There he was, dead, no sign of sickness, and the very young man that
God had sent me to speak to." Incidents such as this assured her that she was obeying God.
"Left to myself I should have tried to gain the box on which the speakers stood in order to command the
crowd, but at the critical moment, our good Sister Smith knelt on the grass and began to pray. As the crowd
rushed up to the spot and saw her beaming face upturned to the evening sky, pouring out her soul in prayer
they became perfectly, still and stood as if transfixed to the spot. Not even a whisper disturbed the solemn
silence.
Thoburn said that at a glance Amanda was able to see through philosophical errors that fooled brilliant men.
He insisted that he learned more from her that was of actual value to him as a preacher than from any other
person he met! He considered her work in India thoroughly practical.
Following her successful efforts in India, Amanda worked eight years as a missionary in West Africa.
Revival broke out. "The people came from all directions. We went on for two weeks without a break. We
had several all-night meetings.... Some old men were converted that were never known to pray or be serious
before." Not until malaria, rheumatism, and arthritis debilitated her did Amanda return to the U. S. She had
been gone twelve years.
Amanda died in 1915 of a paralytic stroke at the age of seventy eight. Her autobiography, with its homey
details of her struggle for survival and her hunger for holiness, has become a classic in women's studies and
is an inspiring glimpse into the mind of a soul devoted to God.
As "dear little Willie ... the brightest and most promising of all the five children" she had had was dying,
Amanda struggled with God. "I wanted to say it, and then resolved that I would neither eat nor drink until I
could from my heart say, "The will of the Lord be done." It took me from Thursday till Friday afternoon
about three P.M. before I got the victory. While I was alone pleading with God .. all at once my heart
seemed to sink into a deep quiet ... Oh, how sweet it was; it seemed to me I could taste it, it was sweet as
honey; and a voice seemed to reason, 'Now Amanda, you can have your choke if you say the life of your
26
child, you may have it as easy as turning your hand.' And I said, 'Lord, Your will is so sweet, I only want
Your will....' Then the joy sprang up in my heart ... About two o'clock the next morning, little Willie fell
asleep in Jesus, in my arms. I washed the little body and laid it out myself ... "
Afterward Amanda collapsed and was scarcely able to dress to go out and make funeral arrangements.
Friends refused to help. Her separated husband, father to the dead lad, excused himself as sick. In this crisis,
a Christian lady, a virtual stranger, heard of the death and gave Amanda the $20 the funeral would cost.
Amanda saw this as evidence of God's faithfulness.
The task would have been fitting for slaves, but it was evident the worker was no slave. Gold threads in her
dress caught the pale moonlight. Pearls glinted in her hair and were echoed by pallid gleams from her
jeweled bodice. If a slave had stolen such finery, she would conceal it in a bundle until safely off the
premises.
For the sake of love, women have moved mountains. Was this secret labor the prelude to an elopement? The
gate creaked open. Shadowy figures appeared on the street. There was a whispered exchange, and the girl
squeezed through the crack in the gate to join them.
The jeweled girl replied as if giving a countersign, repeating the next fine of Mary's famous Magnificat:
"Because he has regarded the lowliness of his handmaid."
Torches were lifted. in their flickering glare, the men arranged themselves protectively around the ladies and
they proceeded together toward their clandestine goal.
Six years before, an astonishing event had taken place. Giovanni di Pietro Bernardone, commonly called
Francis, the son of a wealthy merchant had behaved madly, stripping naked in church so as to return his
clothes to his merchant father, symbolizing his renunciation of his parent's wealth. He began begging stones
to repair a ruined church. As the work of restoration progressed, he meditated much, washed lepers' sores,
sought to follow Christ completely and began to preach repentance and peace. Rich young men renounced
their wealth and gathered around him, forming a brotherhood. The brothers settled at a small church of
Assisi, the Portiuncula
It was to Francis that the young woman was going. He welcomed the gaily garbed girl.
Young men looked on and wondered, while poorer girls envied. Clare's beauty, wealth and virtue had made
her a prize to be pursued, but she rejected all suitors.
Now, like Francis, whom she had often heard preach, she was planning to renounce her wealth in a desire to
serve Christ who had become poor for our sakes. Francis encouraged her plan and arranged for his cowled
brothers to escort her through the night.
Clare clung to the altar cloth and silently refused to budge. Gone were her jeweled clothes and graceful
shoes. She now wore open sandals and coarse cloth.
When the angry men and Clare's weeping mother continued to insist that she return with them, Clare bared
her head, and they saw that it was shorn of its lovely blond tresses. Finally her father and his retinue left,
helpless in the face of her firm decision.
Other women soon joined Clare. Francis placed her in charge of these "Poor Clares" and gave her the chapel
of San Damiano, which he had restored with his own hands. Although Clare did not want this responsibility,
she would bear it for forty years. One day her mother would join her, too.
She saw joy as an attitude which must be adopted regardless of the vicissitudes of life. Physical pain itself
became a chance to express joy. Clare, who was often near death with illness, said, "I tremble with joy, and I
do not fear that anyone may rob me of such happiness."
O most high, almighty, good Lord God, to Thee belong praise, glory, honor and all blessing!
Praised be my Lord God with all His creatures, and specially our brother the sun, who
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brings us the sky and who brings us the light; Fair is he and shines with a very great
splendor O Lord, he signifies to us Thee.
A larger force headed by General Vitale di Aversa returned to attack Assisi. Clare and the poor sisters knelt
in earnest prayer for their town. A furious storm overthrew the tents of the attackers, causing them to flee in
terror.
Crushed by a Fantail
Clare suffered many pains in old age. Yet she insisted on performing chores that she could have delegated to
others. One night as she shut the heavy outer door of San Damiano, its fantail swung loose, crushing her.
Although seriously injured, she continued to praise God.
Her one fear as she lay dying was that the Poor Clares might be forced to relax their vow of poverty. Popes
had already tried to lift it, but Clare insisted that just as Jesus left everything for us, so must she and her
ladies leave everything for him. She pleaded urgently for the "privilege of poverty," which finds its all in
Christ. On August 9, 1253, Pope Innocent IV issued a bull affirming Clare's rule. Two days later, she died,
satisfied with her victory.
In becoming man, Christ emptied himself of everything--even his rank. He lived hungry, homeless, and
humble. With such an example before them, how could Christians seek wealth or lordship over others?
The people of the world live above their material means and below their spiritual means. Clare chose to do
the opposite. She knew that greed is idolatry and that we become what we worship. Many of us have found
that shiny cars, swanky clothes, clever gadgets and big houses cannot satisfy our spiritual longings, but leave
us weary instead. Clare recognized the essential emptiness of mere things before she was eighteen.
The Poor Clares had to beg for a living but lived to help others. They prayed, educated communities, nursed
the sick and attended lepers (it is no fluke that Europe alone eliminated leprosy at a time when it was the
scourge of the known world.) Their delight in God's creation was possibly an element in the rise of the
Renaissance.
Tears of joy rolled down Selina's cheeks. Enclosed was 500 pounds, the very sum needed. "Here," she said
to her coworker, "Take it and pay for the chapel; and be no longer faithless but believing." Her faith had not
always been so confident.
At thirty-two years of age, she was known for her charitable works. She took seriously her responsibility to
educate her servants in Christian living, distributing religious books among them. No one could fault her
church attendance. She read religious books and contributed to orphanages, to the Anglican Society for
Promoting Christian Knowledge, and other charities, including a school for poor children, which she took
under her protection.
And yet Selina feared for her soul. It seemed to her that she always fell short of the standard God asks. No
matter what she did, she felt the distance between herself and God widening.
Such words were like a foreign language to Selina. What did they mean?
As Selina pondered them, a truth suggested itself to her. She could expect pardon for her bad attitudes and
raging temper not because of any good she had done but only because Jesus offered it as a free gift. "I
believe!" she cried.
Selina defended the victims of this bullying. For example, when Sir Watkins Wynn, a foe of the revivalists,
fined several men for listening to preacher Howell Harris, Selina immediately appealed to the government,
invoking the Toleration Act, and Sir Watkin Wynn was forced to refund the fines. She also protected
Methodist preachers by making them her personal chaplains.
After attending the Wesleys' 1739 Fetter Street meetings, Selina became enthusiastic about the Methodists
and imitated them. At once she sent one of her own staff, David Taylor, to preach in the fields and pleaded
with her employees to become spiritually minded.
"Thomas, I fear you never pray, or look to Christ to salvation," she said to one.
"Your ladyship is mistaken," replied Thomas. "I heard what passed between you and James at the garden
wall, and the word you meant for him took effect on me."
"Through a hole in the wall, and I shall never forget the impression I received."
Selina wrote letters to her friends-duchesses and leading ladies-assuring them that having Christ as a
companion would transform their lives. She coaxed several to attend chapel with her and was disappointed
when they weren't converted.
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But if the rich closed their ears to the gospel, common folk listened. Selina hired zealous speakers and
whenever she took a Summer holiday, she had them preach to crowds at every stop, winning many converts
to Methodism.
Eventually the Methodists split over this issue Selina tried to reconcile the two sides in 1749 but finally
broke with the Wesleys. She couldn't accept some of John's doctrines and openly attacked them and
denounced him.
Selina's chapels were built with the belief that, as a peeress, she had the legal right to employ any number of
chaplains she wished, cloaking them with her authority. This interpretation of the law was challenged in
1779 by a Church of England clergyman. The court ruled against the Countess. Selina and her associates had
to register as dissenters under the Act of Toleration and were no longer considered members of the Church
of England.
All these years, Selina had remained loyal to the established church, viewing Methodism as merely a reform
movement within it. "I am to be cast out of the church now only for doing what I have been doing these
forty years--speaking and living for Jesus Christ," she grieved.
"The Lord has been present with my spirit this morning in a remarkable manner; what he means to convey to
my mind I do not know; it may be my approaching departure: my soul is filled with glory--I am as in the
element of heaven itself." A few days later she ruptured a blood vessel and never recovered. Hours before
her death she whispered, I shall go to my father tonight."
Few women have had so unique an opportunity to defend a reform movement within the church or used it so
willingly. Thousands benefited from Selina's life.
On the Other Hand: Her own children and husband never accepted her doctrines--she laid all but one of
them in the grave unconverted; and that one was a death bed repentance whose sincerity she doubted. Was
she divisive? Writers claim she played the Wesleys against each other, so much so that Charles refused to
answer her last letter. Did she overreach in the name of faith? She left heavy debts and made inadequate
provision for her institutions in her will. Was she exacting? She broke not only with the Wesleys but with
most of her own chaplains, unable to accept their inevitable flaws.
The Christian Church, in its earliest centuries after Jesus, endured wave after wave
of persecution. All kinds of insults and charges were hurled at them.
A document written in the late 2nd century A.D. called The Octavius of Minicius Felix describes a debate
between a Christian and a pagan at the Roman port of Ostia. It provides valuable insight into how Christians
were reviled and how they responded.
Ruins at Ostia can be visited today at this ancient Roman port. 12 million barrels of corn came through Ostia
annually from Egypt. It was the setting for the encounter between the Christian Octavius and the pagan
Caecilius as recorded by Minicius Felix in the late second century A.D. and was used as a basis for this
issue.
Minicius Felix was walking about Ostia with two friends, Octavius a Christian, and Caecilius a pagan. When
Caecilius pauses to pay respect to a pagan idol, Octavius objects. An extended debate develops. Here is an
adaptation of their debate drawn from that document as well as other early church sources for a taste of that
time. We suggest you look carefully at the following charges and consider in what ways Christians today are
similarly accused, and where the specifics of opposition now may have changed.
Charge: Cannibalism
CAECILIUS THE PAGAN: You Christians are the worst breed ever to affect the world. You deserve every
punishment you can get! Nobody likes you. It would be better if you and your Jesus had never been born.
We hear that you are all cannibals--you eat the flesh of your children in your sacred meetings.
OCTAVIUS The Christian: That story is probably based on reports that we share together a meal of the
body and blood of Christ. That we do. But it is not human flesh we eat. It is bread and wine we consecrate to
commemorate our LordÕs death.
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It amazes me you give credibility to these rumors of cannibalism. You know what we're like. Keep in mind
that if you have a child and it is a girl but you wanted a boy, or if the child is deformed, or if you simply
don't want it, what is done? You leave the child outside, exposed to die.
CAECILIUS: You know that it is far more merciful to let the baby die than to bring it up in a home where it
is not wanted.
OCTAVIUS: We do not expose our children, and you are well aware how so many of the little ones that
have been left out to die have been rescued by Christians and given a home. So it's just the opposite of what
you accuse us of, Caecilius. We don't consume human life; we rather protect and defend it.
OCTAVIUS: If you came to one of our meetings you would find that the lovemaking and intimacy you are
so quick to imagine is of a totally different nature. We meet before sunrise because we are working people.
We have jobs to go to. We do not always meet in secret, but we have no temples or synagogues, so we use
somebody's home which has enough room. We call one another brother and sister and pledge to love one
another because that is what our Lord commanded us to do. And we greet one another and bless one another
with a holy kiss, not out of lust but out of genuine love and concern for one another. Come and you will see
that we demand the highest standards of morality among all who join us.
OCTAVIUS: If you had bothered to take the time to find out, you would know that there are many from the
upper classes among our number, even some of Caesar's staff. And notable scholars, who were once pagans,
have written in defense of our faith for the more educated to consider. But let's not quibble. Many of our
number -- most of our number are poor. But what is more important is how we regard ourselves. We
consider ourselves to be rich. We have that which is most valuable, the most precious gift, which cannot be
lost. And for your information, there are those of us who are wealthy. We do not despise wealth; we
welcome it when it comes lawfully. But we do not lust after it. And when we get more wealth, we simply
give more away. Wealth can be a great burden. It weighs you down with many cares and concerns.
Traveling light has its advantages -- some big advantages!
CAECILIUS: Sorry, I haven't noticed any. I'll take the wealth instead any day.
OCTAVIUS: You know, Caecilius, talking to you makes me realize why God doesn't automatically bless us
with wealth. Because if he did, people like you would rush to become Christians and miss the whole point.
So don't pity us. We have plenty, not only for ourselves but also for those in need, the ones that you walk
right by.
Charge : Self-righteousness
CAECILIUS: Oh, aren't you so pure and good. That's another thing that bothers me: you all think you are so
righteous and better than the rest of us.
OCTAVIUS: First you accuse us of cannibalism and orgies, now you're offended because we seek to lead a
holy life. Let me assure you, we do not consider ourselves to be holy. Every Lord's day we have a service of
communion, and it is a service of thanksgiving -- thanksgiving because we are forgiven, not because we are
holy, and if we are forgiven, then we shall seek to lead lives that are like Christ.
Charge: Atheism
CAECILIUS: What concerns me is what you really are. This is the reason that you are hated across all the
lands of this vast empire. Let's get to the real problem. You are atheists.
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OCTAVIUS: Yes, we are atheists -- if you mean that we do not pray to or believe in all of the gods that we
are expected to worship. But these are not gods. We worship the one true God, the Lord over all.
Charge: Novelty
CAECILIUS: You act as if you people know more than the rest of us. You think you know more than all of
our fathers. What it comes down to is that you people are captive to novelty.
OCTAVIUS: That is simply just not the case. Why is it you do not require the Jews to sacrifice to your gods.
They alone are given exemption. Why? Because of the antiquity of their religion. Well, be assured that the
God that the Jews worship is the very same God that we worship. Their sacred writings, the Law and the
Prophets, we revere and read aloud in our meetings. And because we worship this God of the Jews, the one
thing we cannot be accused of is novelty. It is just the opposite. Our faith looks back beyond the beginning
of time to the God who created all that is. What you won't listen to and what the Jews refuse to accept is that
this God has come into our world to show us what He is like in the person of his Son, the Lord Jesus Christ,
whom we love and serve.
You people are happy to benefit from all that is ours, living in this greatest time of all history, but where is
your gratitude? You are antisocial snobs. You will not show proper respect for our anniversary festivals.
You will not sacrifice to the genius of the emperor. You will not fight and join the empire. Simply put, you
are disloyal, unpatriotic, and not to be trusted. As far as I am concerned, you are a danger to society.
OCTAVIUS: Hold on! One at a time, please. We do not join the army, and we do not fight because we do
not believe in killing. We love our enemies and do good to them. Even though we are often hunted down
and killed because of accusers like you, we do not even take up arms to defend ourselves. So I fail to see
how we are any danger to anyone. But yes, you are right. We do not pray to the emperor or join with our
neighbors in the sacrifices to the gods. But while we do not pray to the emperor, we do pray for the emperor.
We recognize those in authority as appointed by God to preserve order. We seek, we pray for the peace and
tranquility of the empire. God knows, if any group seeks a quiet and undisturbed life, it is us. We never
know when we will be blamed for anything that is going wrong, be hunted down and arrested.
OCTAVIUS: Oh yes, we have heard that before, too many times. As one of our fathers wrote: If the Tiber
overflows its walls, if the Nile does not rise to the fields, if the sky doesn't move or the earth does, if there is
famine, if there is plague, the cry is at once, "The Christian to the lion!"
In the original account by Minicius Felix, Caecilius gets converted. The video dramatization of the Octavius
from which this issue is adapted is from Christian History Institute's Early Church video curriculum From
Christ to Constantine: the Trial and Testimony of the Early Church.
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were his successors. Christians refused to recognize the emperor's divinity and were
punished and persecuted for that.
Admittedly he was committed to his Protestant faith in Catholic England at a time when
that could be quite dangerous. And he rose to the highest position in the English Church, becoming the first
Protestant Archbishop of Canterbury. But he loved his comfortable life of quiet scholarship. When it came
to it, would he have the courage to take the ultimate stand for his faith? It was a close call. Here is his most
unlikely story -- one that did much to shape the world of his day right down to our own day. Cranmer was
born into a mildly well-to-do family in Nottinghamshire, England, in 1489. He studied at Jesus College,
Cambridge, taking a surprising eight years to get his degree. After attaining his MA, he suddenly gave up
any prospect of an ecclesiastical or academic career by marrying for love. When his wife Joan died in
childbirth he was crushed, but he was destined as a result of this loss, to become possibly the most
influential figure in the history of the English church.
Mission: Divorce
Cranmer was ordained at Cambridge and was still there at the time of Luther's encounter with Rome. He
believed in reform, but from within the Catholic church, and he was horrified by Luther's separation from
Rome. His mind was changed as a consequence of being drafted into the diplomatic service of the King.
Cranmer's mission was to get rid of Henry VIII's wife. Henry had married Catherine of Aragon with a
special dispensation from the pope, because Catherine was his brother's widow, a match contrary to church
law. But having borne him a daughter, Catherine failed to come up with any more children, and Henry
needed a son to pass his crown on to. He believed the marriage was cursed by God, as Leviticus 20:21
warns, and another wife was called for. Normally, he would have come to another mutually satisfactory
arrangement with the Pope, but the Pope was in serious trouble with Catherine's uncle, the Holy Roman
Emperor, so no deal. Cranmer had the idea of canvassing the Protestant leaders of Europe and getting them
to declare Henry's marriage invalid. This long debate was ultimately unsuccessful, but it had two huge
results for Cranmer. It impressed the King enough to raise him to Archbishop of Canterbury, the top job in
the English church -- to CranmerÕs horror. And Cranmer was so impressed with the Protestants that he
started to be gradually won over. Cranmer marked the change by quietly taking a second wife while he was
out in Germany.
Cranmer at Canterbury
Parliament passed laws declaring the Church of England independent of Rome, making the King instead of
the Pope, its head. Cranmer then declared the marriage void, and Henry took Anne Boleyn as his new wife.
Cranmer had no political ambitions. Even as Archbishop, he spent three quarters of his working day in quiet
study and found time in the remainder for sport. His greatest achievement at this time was to get English
Bibles into the churches for the first time. In Henry's latter years, things got dangerous for Cranmer. Henry
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was never really converted to Protestantism, and the Church of England was really independent Catholic
rather than Protestant. In 1539, the King issued the Six Articles, insisting that the beliefs of the Church of
England were still well and truly Catholic. The bookies took bets that Cranmer would soon be executed like
others who had fallen foul of Henry's whims. But the King respected Cranmer, and he retained his position.
In January, 1547, Henry died, and was succeeded by his eleven-year-old son Edward VI. Edward was a
convinced Protestant, and so Cranmer was retained and now had the opportunity to reform the church fully.
Surprise!
But now she made her great mistake. Her personal hatred for Cranmer was such that even though she had his
recantation, she insisted on burning him anyway. The execution was on 21st of March, 1556, and Cranmer
was allowed to preach before the massive crowd to publicize his recantation. In his last masterly speech, he
repented of all his sins -- as he was meant to -- but ended by repenting his greatest sin of all, denial of the
Protestant gospel. Amid uproar and commotion, he was led off to the fire and burnt. He put his right hand
into the flames first. "As my hand offended," he said, "writing contrary to my heart, my hand shall first be
punished."
Our adversaries are now holding their councils at Trent for the establishment of their errors; and shall we
neglect to call together a godly synod, for the refutation of error, and for restoring and propagating the truth?
They are, as I am informed, making decrees respecting the worship of the host; wherefore we ought to leave
no stone unturned, not only that we may guard others against this idolatry, but also that we may ourselves
come to an agreement upon the doctrine of this sacrament. It cannot escape your prudence how exceedingly
the Church of God has been injured by dissensions and varieties of opinion respecting the sacrament of
unity; and though they are now in some measure removed, yet I could wish for an agreement in this doctrine,
not only as regards the subject itself, but also with respect to the words and forms of expression. You have
now my wish, about which I have also written to Masters Philip [Melanchthon] and Bullinger; and I pray
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you to deliberate among yourselves as to the means by which this synod can be assembled with the greatest
convenience. Farewell.
Almighty God, unto whom all heartes be open, all desyres knowen, and from whom no secretes are hyd:
clense the thoughtes of our heartes by the inspiracion of thy holy spirit, that we maye perfectlye love thee,
and worthely magnify thy holy name: through Christ our Lorde. Amen.
Francis Asbury, pioneer of American Methodism could not keep a shirt or coat.
That changed in a Methodist meeting. "I was then about fifteen; and young as I was, the Word of God soon
made deep impressions on my heart, which brought me to Jesus Christ... and soon showed me the excellency
and necessity of holiness." A year later he was preaching. He joined the Methodist ministry before he was
twenty.
Assigned to Maryland, Asbury tripled its circuits and doubled its membership in just one year. Rain or shine,
heat or cold, he was in the saddle. While riding, he read, sang hymns, learned languages, fasted and prayed.
Freeborn Garrettson, a notable circuit rider himself, said that Asbury prayed the best and prayed the most of
any man he knew. He preached to any audience he could find, despite threats, fines and illness.
Sickness plagued Asbury. He half-killed himself with overwork and exposure, unable to lie still long enough
to get really well. He preached hundreds of sermons with an ulcerated throat and burning fever. Often he
was so weak he had to be lifted onto his horse and tied to the saddle. But his passion to serve God and save
souls was unflinching. He exclaimed: "O, what would one not do, what would he not suffer, to be useful to
souls, and to the will of his great Master!"
During the war, Asbury worked on despite dangers. Once a bullet passed through his hat. Another time he
had to hide in a swamp for two days to elude an unfriendly patrol--he had refused to swear Maryland's oath
of allegiance, believing all oaths were wrong. But his discretion during the war allowed him to pick up the
pieces when Rankin abandoned the colonies.
Wesley sent Thomas Coke to consecrate Asbury as a "superintendent." But Asbury recognized the
importance of democratic reforms and refused to accept unless the other ministers voted approval. He
immediately took the title "bishop" and kept it even after John Wesley wrote him a scathing rebuke. By
shrewd maneuvers, Asbury outfoxed every attempt to diminish his power by creating new bishops. He
doubted his rivals' zeal and dedication. They called him a dictator.
The "dictator" rode five thousand miles a year on horseback, half-naked because he gave away coat or shirt
to anyone needier than himself. From New York to Georgia and back, he preached and preached. He even
crossed the Alleghenies and visited New England. He was reputed to be the best-known man in America at
that time.
-----
Near midnight we stopped at A.'s, who hissed his dogs at us.... Our supper was tea.... I lay along the floor on
a few deerskins with the fleas. That night our poor horses got no corn, and next morning they had to swim
across Monongahela. After a twenty miles' ride we came to Clarksburg, and man and beasts were so outdone
that it took us ten hours to accomplish it. I lodged with Colonel Jackson.
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Our meeting was held in a long, close room belonging to the Baptists. Our use of the house, it seems, gave
offense. There attended about seven hundred people, to whom I preached with freedom; and I believe the
Lord's power reached the hearts of some. After administering the sacrament I was well satisfied to take my
leave. We rode thirty miles to Father Haymond's, after three o'clock, Sunday afternoon, and made it nearly
eleven before we came in. About midnight we went to rest, and rose at five o'clock next morning.
My mind has been severely tried under the great fatigue endured both by myself and my horse. 0, how glad
should I be of a plain, clean plank to lie on, as preferable to most of the beds; and where the beds are in a
bad state the floors are worse. The gnats are almost as troublesome here as the mosquitoes in the lowlands of
the seaboard. This country will require much work to make it tolerable.
After study, Wesley decided an ordained clergyman had as much right as a bishop to perform a
consecration. Coke was the logical choice, because as a full presbyter in the Church of England, he was
already authorized to administer the sacraments. He had been ousted from his church for preaching
Methodist doctrine. On September 2, 1784, Wesley and another presbyter consecrated Coke as
superintendent. He had orders to perform the same service for Asbury in America.
In theory, Coke and Asbury shared equal power. In reality, Coke's many absences from America left Asbury
in charge. Coke crossed the Atlantic eighteen times in connection with his ministry in the Americas. In
1814, he died at sea on his way to establish another mission in India.
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George Wishart.
This issue was scheduled to be devoted to John Knox -- the fiery reformer and most influential man in the
history of Scotland. But to tell his story, we needed to set the stage for his tumultuous career by noting the
catalytic role in his life played by his friend George Wishart. The problem is we found it incredibly difficult
to just skip over Wishart with a paragraph or two. He kept growing on us. In short, the issue became
Wishart's. Knox will have to wait. Well, not completely, because the following account is abridged and
paraphrased from Knox's History of the Reformation in Scotland.
George Wishart was a man so full of grace there was none that had come before to whom we could compare
him. He was unusually gifted intellectually, excelling not only in general studies but also in spiritual insight.
In fact, we came to recognize that he was also endowed with the spirit of prophecy, and some of his
predictions that were later fulfilled were heard firsthand by many. One instance was what happened at
Dundee.
He was at Dundee teaching from the Epistle to the Romans. But Cardinal Beaton recruited a leading citizen
of Dundee, Mr. Robert Myll, to publically interrupt Wishart's teaching and warn him in front of everyone
gathered that he was to stop preaching and stop troubling the town right away -- that they would put up with
no more of it. Wishart paused a long time, looked up to heaven, then looked upon Myll and the crowd that
gathered and said: "God knows that I came here not to trouble anyone but to bring comfort. If you are being
troubled, I assure you that bothers me more than it does you. But you must realize that to silence me from
explaining to you God's word, and to chase me out of town, is not going to preserve you from trouble. It is
just the opposite. It will increase your troubles."
So he left and went to the western region where his teaching was received warmly by many. But again the
Cardinal stepped in and influenced the Bishop of Glasgow to interfere. This kind of opposition spread so
that George was not allowed to enter churches to teach. Local parish-oners who wanted to hear him got so
upset they were ready to take over the churches by force to allow him place to teach. But Wishart would not
hear of it. There was to be no bloodshed for the sake of gaining a place to preach the Word. He was bringing
a word of peace. He reminded them how the Lord Christ Jesus was just as potent in the open fields as inside
the walls of a synagogue. So on a pleasant and hot day he went up upon a dyke at a moor's edge on the
southwest side of Mauchline and preached for over three hours. There was a large and attentive turnout, and
the power of God was manifested. In fact one of the most wicked nobles in the area, Lawrence Rankin, was
wonderfully converted that day, tears streaming down his face even in front of the others gathered. And I
can tell you even now that his conversion was genuine and has lasted right up till this time.
George was now like an outlaw on the run and had to be careful where he went. He stayed briefly at
different places with those who supported his preaching and teaching. He spent a night with James Watson.
Let me tell you what happened there, which I know to be reliable because it was reported by John Watson
and William Spadin, both credible men who saw this with their own eyes. It was before sunrise and Master
George Wishart got up and went outside. John and William were awake and followed him secretly. George
went some distance away and entered an alley where he fell down on his knees and began sobbing and
groaning. It became more intense. He fell on his face upon the ground. The men who followed, hidden away
at a discreet distance, could hear him praying and crying to the Lord. This went on for about an hour. Then
he finished, and as he began to get up the two men slipped out of sight and hurried back to the house.
George soon returned and headed back to bed. The two men, not acknowledging that they had followed him,
questioned him as to where he had gone. He didn't want to answer, but they told how they had observed him
and asked why he was in such an emotional state while praying. George related how in that time God
showed him, "My end is drawing close." He added: "So pray with me that I will not shrink from the test
when things really get tough." These words deeply upset John and William, who began weeping themselves.
Master George consoled them with these words: "God shall send you comfort after me. Our homeland shall
be illuminated by the light of Christ's Gospel as clearly as any nation has ever experienced since the days of
the apostles. And," he added, "this is all going to happen rather soon." --------
Editor's Note
Wishart's end did come soon. Cardinal Beaton arranged to have him apprehended through a trusted
nobleman who promised protection. Bishops were convened to condemn Wishart. He was strangled and
burned at the stake on March 1, 1546, at the age of 33. His enemies thought they had solved their problem
with this pesky advocate of reform. Nothing could be further from the truth. His death set loose forces in
Scotland that could never be contained. Shortly after Wishart's execution, a band of men, led by John Leslie,
got into the Cardinal's castle early on the morning of May 29, 1546, assassinated him and then rudely
disgraced his body. Sympathizers of reform thrust a reluctant Knox into leadership. Knox had been a
bodyguard for Wishart. Wishart's impact on Knox's life affected him to the core. He would go on to
spearhead national reform and become the most influential man in ScotlandÕs history. That we will take up
in another issue.
--------
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"He was modest, temperate, fearing God, hating covetousness; for his charity had never end,
night, noon, nor day. He went without one meal in three, one day in four for the most part,
except for something to comfort nature. He lay hard upon a puff of straw and coarse, new
canvas sheets, which, when he changed, he gave away. He had commonly by his bedside a
tub of water, in which (his people being in bed, the candle put out and all quiet) he used to
bathe himself. He loved me tenderly, and I him. He taught with great modesty and gravity,
so that some of his people thought him severe, and would have slain him; but the Lord was
his defense. And he, after due correction for their malice, by good exhortation amended
them and went his way. Oh, that the Lord had left him to me, his poor boy, that he might
have finished what he had begun!"
They were tired and thirsty -- and most of all longing for the sounds and smells of
a fine wood fire and fresh fish frying on a pan beside a singing stream.
Jedidiah Smith
The grizzly didn't hesitate a moment but sprung on the captain, taking him by the head and smashing him to
the rocky ground. Smith fought like a wildcat to loose his butcher knife from its scabbard, but the bear took
his head in its monstrous mouth and tore at his middle with both of its awful paws.
Clyman put a bullet into the bear's big stomach, and that pulled the beast off the captain -- but it didn't stop
its rage. Ed Rose fired a slug into its head, and it went down. Then a few more of the men shot it again. You
can't trust a grizzly to die until you hit it four or five times -- and then you better not turn your back too soon
either!
But the captain just lay there looking up as calm as can be. No moaning, no cursing, no rage as would have
come from the rest of his men if they'd had their heads nearly bitten off by a mountain bear. "Boys," Smith
said as he caught his breath, "you gotta fix me up!"
"Take hold of the captain," said Clyman to Thomas Fitzpatrick, who was bending down over the wounded
man, "and we'll carry him to water."
But nobody wanted to move him, he was hurt so badly. So they asked him what was best. "Go for water,"
Smith said. "And if you've got a needle and thread, get it out and sew up my wounds."
Instant Surgeons
His head was bleeding like a river runs, and none of the party knew anything about surgical matters, but they
42
had to do something. So Clyman got out a pair of scissors, cut off Smith's hair, and began his first job of
dressing wounds.
The bear had jawed down close to Smith's left eye on one side and close to his right ear on the other and had
laid the skull bare nearly to the crown of his head. One of his ears was torn from his head and barely hanging
on. And there was James Clyman of Virginia with one big old needle and some black thread!
Clyman stitched him up as best he could, while the captain gave directions himself. The ear was last of all.
"I can't do it, Jed," Clyman protested. "It's too torn up."
This day gave them a lesson of the character of the grizzly bear that they did not forget. And it taught them
even more about the kind of man who was leading them through the wilderness.
Jedediah Strong Smith (1799Ð1831), son of Jedediah Smith, Sr. and Sally Strong, was born at Jericho (now
Bainbridge, near Binghamton) in the Susquehanna Valley of southern New York -- the sixth of fourteen
children.
When Jed was a tall, sober lad of 12, Dr. Titus Simons, a hometown physician, taught him to read and write
in English and Latin. At 13, while working on a freight boat on the Great Lakes, Jedediah met the fur traders
of Canada and the Upper Missouri who fueled his fertile imagination with visions of the wide wilderness of
the great West.
In the spring of 1821, Jed left home. With only his rifle, his Bible, and the shirt on his back, he found his
way to St. Louis, the bustling center of the rapidly rising western fur trade. From there on May 22, 1822, he
headed toward the western wilderness on an organized expedition of "enterprising young men" to ascend the
Missouri River at its source in search of beaver, which was then in great demand.
Though Jed was but a greenhorn "mountain man," he quickly emerged as head of his company, which
included the likes of Jim Bridger, Hugh Glass, James Clyman, Thomas Fitzpatrick, William Sublette and the
now legendary Mike Fink -- men who were called "The Reckless Breed" and described by another as "the
most significant group of continental explorers ever brought together."
In the annals of his fellow mountain men and their more civilized contemporaries, the record is clear and
consistent concerning Smith's unmatched leadership, exceptional courage, and unblemished Christian
character. His closest compatriots said he made religion "an active principle from the duties of which
nothing could seduce him." His own journals and letters are full of candid, self-effacing confessions of faith
and spiritual need. Biographer Alson J. Smith said Smith "was something of an anachronism on a lusty
frontier of which it was said that God was careful to stay on his own side of the Missouri River. He was a
devout Methodist who did not smoke or drink or use the profanity that was almost the lingua franca of the
mountain men. No woman, no matter how attractive, was ever invited to share his bed."
A man of Christian conscience as tall and unmoving as the mountains he climbed, Jedediah Smith is truly
one of America's great western heroes and Christian models.
43
Jedediah Strong Smith was an adventurous young man, but he was no shiftless runaway. High on his list of
reasons for facing the daunting challenges of the unmapped west was providing needed income for his aging
parents. He wrote home when he could, sending money to his father and mother and making arrangements
for their care as they grew older and more infirmed. He also saw to the housing and schooling of his minor
brothers and children.
To his elder brother Ralph he wrote, "It is that I may be able to help those who stand in need that I face
every danger -- it is for this that I traverse the mountains covered with eternal snow -- it is for this that I pass
over the sandy plains in the heat of summer, thirsty for water. It is for this that I go for days without eating
and am pretty much satisfied if I can gather a few roots, a few snails, or, much better a piece of horse flesh
or a fine roasted dog. Let it be the greatest pleasure that we can enjoy to smooth the pillow of [our parent's]
age and as much as in us lies, take from them all cause of trouble."
The sum of money Jed sent to the family at the time of this letter was $2,200, no small pocket- book in that
day.
------
With Thomas Fitzpatrick, he discovered South Pass, the gateway to the continent.
He was the first white man to cross the Sierra Nevada.
First to walk into California from the American frontier.
First to taste the bitter waters of the Great Salt Lake.
First to compass the whole of the Great Basin.
First to enter Oregon while trekking up the California coast.
First to officiate a public Christian worship in South Dakota!
He survived frigid winters, scorching summers, ravages of timber wolves and grizzly bears, two
horrific massacres and a bloody melee with Indians.
He died alone on the Sante Fe Trail, ambushed by Commanches.
-----
At an impromptu burial of the dead, Jedediah stepped forward to pray to God whose judgment had come
upon them this day and of whose love the survivors sorely needed. The graves were marked only with a log,
for fear that the Indians would discover and unearth the bodies. This sad wilderness funeral has been called
"the first recorded act of public worship in South Dakota." It is boldly commemorated in a highly
imaginative mural in the South Dakota State Capitol.
-----
The dress of the mountain man was typically buckskin garments fringed at the seams, moccasins
made of deer or buffalo hide, leather belt for pistols and butcher knife, bullet pouch strung from
the waist and powder horn slung under the right arm. His long, matted hair was largely hidden
under a feather-adorned wool hat. And in Indian country, a thigh-length stiff overcoat of deerskin
was added as protection against the arrows of the natives.
44
45
BLESSED BLISS
D ecember 29, 2001 marked the 125th anniversary of the worst train disaster in
America up to that point. In that wreck was a young couple whose bodies
were never found. But you will probably find his name many times in the
hymnbook in the pew in front of you. His name was Philip Paul Bliss.
Philip P. Bliss.
Moody first met Bliss in 1869. The evangelist was holding meetings in Wood's Museum Theatre in Chicago.
Moody's approach was to preach in the open air from the steps of the nearby courthouse for about thirty
minutes and then to urge the crowd into his meeting. Bliss and his wife, having heard of Moody but never
having heard him, out for a stroll before Sunday evening services, happened onto the outdoor preaching.
When Moody appealed to all to come inside, they followed. The music director was absent that evening, the
singing was weak, and from his place in the congregation, Bliss's voice, strong and confident, attracted
Moody's eye. Later Moody greeted folks at the door. Bliss met him and related, "as I came to him he had my
name and history in about two minutes, and a promise that when I was in Chicago Sunday evenings, I would
come and help in the singing at the theater meetings." Moody asked some music publisher friends, "Where
in the world have you kept such a man for four years that he hasn't become known in Chicago?"
The Blisses returned to be with family for the holidays in Rome, agreeing to meet Whittle in Chicago,
December 31, and to sing at Moody's Tabernacle. In the old hometown, they spent "the happiest Christmas
he had ever known" with his mother, sister, and in-laws; and leaving their children in the care of Mrs. Bliss's
sister, the Blisses checked their luggage through to Chicago and boarded the train at Waverly, New York.
When an engine broke down, they spent the night in a hotel, then continued their train journey in a blinding
snowstorm.
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159 passengers, 92 were killed or died later from injuries sustained in the crash, and many others were
severely injured. Indeed it was the worst railroad tragedy to that point in American history.
Not a trace of P. P. or Lucy Bliss was ever found, not an artifact or possession. Contemporaries noted it was
as though he was taken up "in a chariot of fire." At the request of Moody, the pennies of school children
helped to erect a monument in Rome, Pennsylvania, Bliss's hometown. So beloved was the young couple
that special memorial services were held in Chicago, in Rome, at South Bend, St. Paul, Louisville,
Nashville, Kalamazoo, and Peoria. Twenty years later, in Ashtabula's Chestnut Grove Cemetery, a
monument was erected to all those "unidentified" who perished in the Ashtabula Railroad disaster. Among
the names are "P. P. Bliss and wife."
Yet, even after his death, his ministry continued, as friends picked up fragments of his thought and finished
his work--friends such as James McGranahan, who wrote music to words Bliss had written, but which were
not found until after his death:
-----
William T. Sherman
The Origin of "Hold the Fort"
In May of 1870, Bliss accompanied Moody's friend Major D. W. Whittle to a Sunday School
Convention at Rockford, Illinois. There, Whittle, a major conference speaker, related an incident from
the Civil War to illustrate Christ's being the Christian's commander, and of His coming to our relief.
(Though Whittle did not witness the events firsthand, he was on active duty with Major General
Oliver Howard in the vicinity of Atlanta in October, 1864.) Just before General Sherman began his march to
the sea, about 20 miles north of Marietta and Atlanta, Confederate troops cut Sherman's communications
lines along the railroad at Allatoona Pass, site of a huge fortification of Union supplies and rations. It was
extremely important that the earthworks commanding the Pass and protecting the supplies be held.
Confederate forces surrounded the works and vigorous fighting ensued. The battle seemed lost and the cause
hopeless to the Union soldiers. But at that moment an officer caught sight of a white signal flag, far away
across the valley, 20 miles away, atop Kennesaw Mountain. The signal was answered, and soon the message
was waved from mountain to mountain: "Hold the Fort; I am coming. W. T. Sherman." The song was
instantly born in the mind of Bliss:
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"Ho! My comrades, see the signal
Waving in the sky!
Reinforcements now appearing
Victory is nigh!
Though, actually, the expression "hold the fort" was never used-- three messages were sent: one saying
"hold out," another saying "hold fast," and another saying "hold on"--Whittle's story was in essence correct.
When he reached Chicago, Bliss wrote the music. It was published first as sheet music, bringing immense
popularity to Bliss and making the expression, "hold the fort" a widely-used colloquial expression. The
militant tune lent itself to all sorts of parodies, and it became widely used in the prohibition, suffrage and
labor movements, finding its way into labor songbooks as late as the 1950s. One of the parodies of the late
1800s was supposedly created by street people:
TIMELESS TESTIMONIES
There were times of physical violence in the process of defining the central teachings of the
faith. For example, the question of exactly who Jesus was. Here is part of the story of the incredible conflict
over that issue. Imagine this, if you can:
Athanasius was one of the most honored names in all Christian history, but at this particular moment, he was
on the outs with Emperor Constantius. This emperor, son of Constantine the Great, favored the Arian
doctrine -- a teaching that Jesus was not fully God but a created being. In the Council of Nicaea that earlier
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rejected this view, Athanasius had been the clearest speaker for the Orthodox position. The Arians longed to
"get him" for the part he played in their defeat.
It seemed that their moment of triumph had finally come. Twice before, enemies had maneuvered him into
exile, but this time they expected he'd be captured or killed. By rights they should have had him, too,
because his sense of honor would not let him save his skin by fleeing. His monks pleaded with him to run
when the troops first surrounded the church, but Athanasius would not budge. Even after the soldiers burst
into the building, the bishop stayed glued to his seat. He would wait until he saw his people safely out, he
said.
What saved his life was his body's weakness. Unused to the sight of blood, he fainted in horror. The monks
hustled their unconscious hero out of the building in the confusion. For the third time since he became
bishop, Athanasius headed into exile. It would not be his last. Indeed, these were the days when being a
theologian could be a hazardous calling.
As political power swayed back and forth, Athanasius was either condemned or exonerated. He either
trudged into exile or returned triumphantly to take up his duties as bishop, welcomed by the citizens of
Alexandria.
The Arian heresy won its share of victories. The Goths became Arian, for example, and spread their doctrine
across Europe by conquest. But by 525, even the Goths had converted to orthodox views. Athanasius, long
dead, had prevailed in the cause for which he risked his life. Most Christians from then on confessed that
Jesus was "very God of very God."
Reluctant Bishop. Athanasius was so reluctant to become bishop that he sent another man named
Athanasius to answer the call of Alexander, his dying bishop. "You think to escape, but it cannot be," said
Alexander.
Rome supports Athanasius. Julius I was bishop of Rome in Athanasius' day and gave this North African
bishop refuge during his second exile.
49
Cruel George. George, the Arian bishop sent to replace Athanasius during his third exile, was a brutal pork
contractor, who tortured people, trying to force them to accept a new creed. Alexandria rioted against him.
Few mourned when George was assassinated.
Outfoxing the Foxes. On his fourth exile, Athanasius, now in his sixties, fled up the Nile, hotly pursued by
his enemies. They hailed a boat coming down river and inquired if Athanasius were far ahead. "You're close
now," came the shouted reply. "Hurry. You may catch them!" The pursuers strained at their oars while--
you've guessed it--Athanasius and his crew merrily sped downstream!
Mobbed for "Magic." When Athanasius produced the missing man at his trial--the one he was supposed to
have had killed, both hands intact--his enemies said it was done by magic and whipped up such a mob that
Athanasius barely escaped with his life.
Books. By the time he was twenty-three, Athanasius had written two books, one of them a theological
masterpiece on the incarnation of Christ. The power of Jesus to turn men away from evil led him to exclaim,
"What hath Christianity wrought!" His books are read to this day, and many of his arguments still hold up.
Council of Nicaea. Nicaea was the first of the great church councils. Athanasius went as an assistant to his
bishop, Alexander, and helped win the day for the orthodox. He replied to the Arians and drafted the
council's creed.
Bible. Writing his Easter letter to his people in 367, Athanasius set forth the authoritative list of Christian
writings that would be finally approved at the Council of Carthage in 397 and accepted by the Christian
church as the closed canon of the New Testament.
Early Christian Biography. Athanasius wrote the biography, Life of St. Antony of the Desert. His
sympathetic treatment helped make monasticism an important force in the Western world and won him the
undying friendship of EgyptÕs monks.
North African Church. The church in North Africa took new life when Athanasius consecrated
Frumentius. This man had been a captive in Ethiopia and pleaded that a Christian bishop be sent to the
nation. Athanasius sent him.
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An Early Christian Biography: Athanasius's Life of Antony
Athanasius was so impressed by the spirituality of St. Antony of the Desert, the first notable
Christian monk, that he wrote his life--one of the first Christian biographies. In the selection that
follows, he tells how Antony gave up all that he had.
After the death of his father and mother, Antony was left alone with one little sister: his age was
about eighteen or twenty....
Now it was not six months after the death of his parents, and going according to custom to the
Lord's House, he communed with himself and reflected as he walked how the Apostles left all and
followed the Savior; and how those in Acts sold their possessions and brought and laid them at the Apostles'
feet for distribution to the needy, and what and how great a hope was laid up for them in heaven. Pondering
over these things, he entered church, and it happened the Gospel was being read, and he heard the Lord
saying to the rich man, "If thou wouldest be perfect, go and sell that thou hast and give to the poor; and
come follow Me and thou shalt have treasure in heaven."
Antony, as though God had put him in mind of the Saints and the passage had been read on his account,
went out immediately from the church, and gave the possessions of his forefathers to the villagers--they
were three hundred acres, productive and very fair--that they should be no more a clog upon himself and his
sister. And all the rest that was movable he sold, and having got together much money he gave it to the poor,
reserving a little, however, for his sister's sake.
Chronology of Athanasius
Bishop and theologian Athanasius lived a life of turmoil. He was repeatedly sent into exile. Here are some of
the key events of his life.
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BRAVEST SOLDIERS IN THE ARMY: THE FORTY
MARTYRS OF SEVASTE.
FREEZING TO DEATH, THEY
DECLARED CHRIST, NOT
EMPEROR LICINIUS, THEIR LORD.
It was one of the strangest episodes in all of military and Christian history--
an army killing its own best soldiers. The time: A.D. 320. The place:
Sevaste, in present-day Turkey.
The issue: Would Christian soldiers obey and bow to pagan gods?
Governor Agricola spoke mildly but firmly. He had good and strong warriors
before him. He needed them. They must be brought into line. "I am told you
refuse to offer the sacrifice ordered by Emperor Licinius."
One of the soldiers answered on behalf of the rest. "We will not sacrifice. To do so is to betray our holy
faith."
"But what about your comrades? Consider--you alone of Caesar's troops defy him! Think of the disgrace you
bring upon your legion. How can you do it?"
"To disgrace the name of our Lord Jesus Christ is more terrible still."
A note of exasperation crept into the governor's voice. "Give up this stubborn folly. You have no lord but
Caesar! In his name, I promise promotion to the first of you who steps forward and does his duty." He
paused a moment, expecting his lure would break their ranks. None of them moved. He switched tactics.
"You persist in your rebellion? Then prepare for torture, prison, death! This is your last chance. Will you
obey your emperor?"
The soldiers stood firm, although they well knew the governor would carry out his threat. They spoke:
"Nothing you can offer us would replace what we would lose in the next world. As for your threats--we've
learned to deny our bodies where the welfare of our souls is at stake."
Agricola ordered, "Flog them." Pairs of guards seized each man and dragged them out into the cold where
they were stripped and tied to posts. Soon the swish of whips and the thud of blows filled the air with
groans. Hooks of iron tore the men's sides. Unbelievably, although their flesh was bruised, their skins were
tattered and their blood flowed, not one of the forty surrendered.
"Chain them in my dungeons!" roared Agricola. "WeÕll see what Lysias has to say about this."
Lysias, commander of the 12th Legion, was in no gentle mood when the forty Christian soldiers were hauled
before him a few days later. His ride from Antioch to Sebaste had been tedious and cold. "You will obey
me," he said sternly, "or pay a sharp penalty."
The men answered him with respectful defiance, just as they had Agricola. Lysias had not become a
commander by coddling traitors, and he did not intend to begin now. He motioned to Agricola.
Agricola came beside Lysias. As judge, he must make these unbending men conform. But how? Just then, a
frigid gale blew across the frozen pond below and stabbed into his cheeks. It gave him an idea. "Take them
52
down to the pond," he ordered. Turning to the soldiers he added, "You will stand naked on the ice until you
agree to sacrifice to the gods."
Agricola could hardly believe what his eyes saw next. The rebels began stripping off their own clothes and
running toward the pond in the freezing March air. "We are soldiers of the Lord and fear no hardship,"
shouted one. "What is our death but entrance into eternal life?"
Wait! There was something else he could do. "Heat baths of warm water," he ordered the guards. "Place
them around the pond. That ought to lure them out pretty quickly," he smirked.
The sun sank behind the hills. Then upon the night air could be heard a prayer: "Lord, there are forty of us
engaged in this battle; grant that forty may be crowned and not one be missing from this sacred number."
Standing on the shore, the shivering guards shouted into the night. "Don't be idiots. What's the point? Come
on out. Warm yourselves!"
"Look," one of the guards suddenly exclaimed, pointing toward the sky.
"What?" said his fellow guard, eyes probing the darkness. "Its too dark to see anything. By Jove, I wish this
was over. I'm freezing out here."
"Don't you see them? Spirits...hovering with golden crowns over those fellows heads, holding out rich robes
for them!"
"Are you out of your mind? It's pitch black. Hey! There's someone coming! It's one of them."
Babbling, one of the forty crawled toward them from the ice. The two ran forward, grasped his shuddering
arms and helped him into a bath. But the heat was too much of a shock to his frozen system. He went into
convulsions and died.
The guard who had seen the vision of crowns, without delay, shucked off his clothes and ran onto the ice.
The martyrs would be forty again!
When the sun rose, Agricola was told that the forty were dead. "Well, get the bodies off the ice," he
commanded. "Burn them. And dump the ashes in the river."
"Hey, we've got a live one here," a guard shouted. "It's Melito. Poor fellow. He's just a kid."
"A local boy, too. That's his mom up there." The soldier beckoned to the woman and she came near. "Listen,
Mother, take your boy home, save his life if you can. We'll look the other way."
"What kind of talk is that?" scolded the woman. She seemed genuinely upset! The guards looked at each
other in astonishment. "Would you cheat him of his crown? IÕll never let that happen!" As the wagon began
to roll away, she lifted her son with her peasant's strength, hoisting him in with the others.
"Go, Son," she cried. "Go to the end of this happy journey with your comrades so that you won't be the last
to present yourself before God."
One of the guards tapped the side of his head and rolled his eyes upward. "Christians!" he muttered. "I just
don't understand them."
53
Fascinating Facts Behind the Forty Martyrs of Sevaste
How many agreed to sacrifice? A legion consisted of from 3,000 to 6,000 infantry plus cavalry. Apparently
at least 2,960 men from the Sebaste legion sacrificed at Licinius's order. Barely 1% bucked his demand!
The famous Thundering Legion. The legion stationed at Sevaste may have been the famed Thundering
Legion. Dating back to Caesar Augustus, it took its name from a lightening emblem on its shields. The
Thundering Legion is connected with another unusual historical event. During the reign of Marcus Aurelius,
it was trapped in a dry valley and only saved from dying of thirst by a furious thunderstorm which provided
drinking water and threw enemy soldiers into panic. Christian writers spoke of the thunderstorm as a miracle
in answer to the petitions of a group of praying Christian soldiers. Pagan authors attributed it to sorcery or to
the prayers of Marcus Aurelius.
Why a legion of troops in Sevaste? Licinius had to defend against Barbarians and Persians. Sevaste (now
Sivas, Turkey) was a logical place to station a sizable force to meet challenges from North and East.
Save the remains. The bodies of the Forty were burned and their ashes cast into a river. The current
deposited fragments of bone at a bend in the stream. Christians collected and preserved them as honored
remains to be kept among local churches.
Sevaste (now Sivas, Turkey) was in Armenia. It was a strategic location to station troops to meet threats
from North and East.
Actually, the story is as solid as ancient history gets. There are at least three sources for it. The
men were martyred in 320. Gregory of Nyssa (c.335-396) tells that he was still a boy when a feast
was established in their memory and churches dedicated to them. He wrote two sermons on them
and declared his intention to bury his parents beside the remains of some of the brave soldiers.
When Gregory's brother, Basil the Great, Bishop of Caesarea (c.330-379), preached a sermon on the feast
day of the Forty Martyrs, there were still men and women alive who remembered the brave fellows. Basil's
sermon, by the way, is the oldest written record we have of their icy death, and was preached in a church
named for the Forty Martyrs.
Another person who later wrote about the martyrs was actually alive as a fourteen year old boy when they
spent their night on the ice. Ephraem the Syrian (c.306-373) became a leading Christian scholar and hymn
writer. He spent much of his life in Edessa, about two hundred miles south of Sevaste. Among his many
poems was a eulogy on The Forty.
In 313, Licinius needed Constantine's help and struck a deal with him. To seal the bargain, Constantine
married his sister to Licinius. The two generals issued the edict of Milan, granting religious toleration to the
empire. Licinius even fought under a Christian banner.
54
So what changed? Why did Licinius turn on the Christians in 320? Both wanted the same thing --single
control over the empire. Persecuting Christians was one way for Licinius to show how much he hated
Constantine, whose favor for the Christian faith was well known.
For more than a week, he has faithfully continued to wait on his employer, an
eccentric composer, who spends hour after hour isolated in his own room. Morning,
noon, and evening the man delivers appealing meals to the composer, and returns
later to find the bowls and platters mostly untouched.
Handel.
Once again, he steels himself to go through the same routine, muttering under his breath about how oddly
temperamental musicians can be. As he swings open the door to the composer's room, the waiter stops in his
tracks.
The startled composer, tears streaming down his face, turns to him and cries out, "I did think I did see all
Heaven before me, and the great God Himself." George Frideric Handel had just finished writing a
movement which would take its place in history as the "Hallelujah Chorus."
If Handel's father had had his way, the "Hallelujah Chorus" would never have been written. His father was a
"surgeon-barber"Ña no-nonsense, practical man who was determined to send his son to law school. Even
though Handel showed extraordinary musical talent as a child, his father refused for several years to permit
him to take lessons.
George Frideric was born in 1685, a contemporary of Bach, a fellow German, and also raised as a fellow
Lutheran, yet they were never to meet. Though many books on the lives of great composers begin with
Bach, in fact, Handel was born several weeks earlier, on February 23, 1685.
When the boy was eight or nine years old, a duke heard him play an organ postlude following a worship
service. Handel's father was summarily requested to provide formal music training for the boy. By the time
Handel turned 12, he had written his first composition and was so proficient at the organ that he substituted,
on occasion, for his own teacher.
He became a violinist and composer in a Hamburg opera theater, then worked in Italy from 1706 to 1710
under the patronage of their music-loving courts. In 1712, after a short stay at the court of Hanover, he
moved to England, where he lived for the rest of his life.
55
Handel was the sort of individual who stands out in a crowd. Large-boned and loud, he often wore an
enormous white wig with curls cascading to his shoulders. When he spoke, his English was replete with
colorful snatches of German, French and Italian.
Although Handel wrote his greatest music in England, he suffered personal setbacks there as well. Falling in
and out of favor with changing monarchs, competing with established English composers, and dealing with
fickle, hard to-please audiences left him on the verge of bankruptcy more than once.
Yet Handel retained his sense of humor through virtually any hardship. Once, just as an oratorio of his was
about to begin, several of his friends gathered to console him about the extremely sparse audience attracted
to the performance. "Never mind," Handel joked to his friends. "The music will sound the better" due to the
improved acoustics of a very empty concert hall!
Incredible Inspiration
Handel set to work composing on August 22 in his little house on Brook Street in London. He grew so
absorbed in the work that he rarely left his room, hardly stopping to eat. Within six days Part One was
complete. In nine days more he had finished Part Two, and in another six, Part Three. The orchestration was
completed in another two days. In all, 260 pages of manuscript were filled in the remarkably short time of 24
days.
Sir Newman Flower, one of Handel's many biographers, summed up the consensus of history: "Considering
the immensity of the work and the short time involved, it will remain, perhaps forever, the greatest feat in
the whole history of music composition." Handel's title for the commissioned work was, simply, Messiah.
Handel never left his house for those three weeks. A friend who visited him as he composed found him
sobbing with intense emotion. Later, as Handel groped for words to describe what he had experienced, he
quoted St. Paul, saying, "Whether I was in the body or out of my body when I wrote it I know not."
Soon after this, Handel's fortunes began to increase dramatically, and his hard-won popularity remained
constant until his death. By the end of his long life, Messiah was firmly established in the standard
repertoire. His influence on other composers would be extraordinary. When Haydn later heard the
"Hallelujah Chorus," he wept like a child and exclaimed, "He is the master of us all!"
Handel personally conducted more than thirty performances of Messiah. Many of these concerts were
benefits for the Foundling Hospital, of which Handel was a major benefactor. The thousands of pounds
Handel's performances of Messiah raised for charity led one biographer to note, "Messiah has fed the
hungry, clothed the naked, fostered the orphan ... more than any other single musical production in this or
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any country." Another wrote, "Perhaps the works of no other composer have so largely contributed to the
relief of human suffering."
The composer's own assessment, more than any other, may best capture his personal aspirations for his well-
loved work. Following the first London performance of Messiah, Lord Kinnoul congratulated Handel on the
excellent entertainment. Handel replied, "My Lord, I should be sorry if I only entertain them. I wish to make
them better."
The religious beliefs of the composer who created the world's most popular religious masterpiece have
puzzled many musicologists. In an era when Christian musicians typically worked for local churches, this
composer of secular opera, chamber, and orchestral music did not fit the usual pattern. Yet he was a devout
follower of Christ and widely known for his concern for others. Handel's morals were above reproach. At
church he was often seen on his knees, expressing by his looks and gesticulations the utmost fervor of
devotion.
His friend Sir John Hawkins recorded that Handel "throughout his life manifested a deep sense of religion.
In conversation he would frequently declare the pleasure he felt in setting the Scriptures to music, and how
contemplating the many sublime passages in the Psalms had contributed to his edification." In one of his few
surviving letters, Handel comforts his brother-in-law on the death of Handel's mother: "It pleased the
Almighty, to whose great Holy Will I submit myself with Christian submission."
And he surely needed such Christian grace to endure blows inflicted by his competitors. But there was also
an onslaught of attacks from within his own camp. Even after Messiah was becoming well-known, as great a
religious figure as John Newton, composer of the hymn "Amazing Grace," preached often against the
"secular" performances of this biblical oratorio.
Known universally for his generosity and concern for those who suffered, Handel donated freely to charities
even in times when he faced personal financial ruin. He was a relentless optimist whose faith in God
sustained him through every difficulty. Raised a sincere Lutheran, he harbored no sectarian animosities and
steered clear of denominational disagreements. Once, defending himself before a quarrelsome archbishop,
Handel simply replied "I have read my Bible very well and will choose for myself."
A few days before Handel died, he expressed his desire to die on Good Friday, "in the hopes of meeting his
good God, his sweet Lord and Savior, on the day of his Resurrection." He lived until the morning of Good
Saturday, April 14, 1759. His death came only eight days after his final performance, at which he had
conducted his masterpiece, Messiah.
His close friend James Smyth wrote, "He died as he lived--a good Christian, with a true sense of his duty to
God and to man, and in perfect charity with all the world." Handel was buried in Westminster Abbey, with
over 3,000 in attendance at his funeral. A statue erected there shows him holding the manuscript for the solo
that opens Part Three of Messiah, "I know that my Redeemer liveth."
So in this issue of Glimpses, we add a little bit of background perspective that is largely buried and
forgotten. We remind you of the so-called "Children's Crusade," and what led up to it. We hasten to add
there is no specific lesson that we are trying to expound here. But we trust you will find much here to reflect
upon.
To the north another storm was gathering and its thunder rolled ominously through the nervous French
countryside. At the head of an opposing army roared Charles the Hammer, King of the Franks. The hard-
eyed Christian soldiers did not know it then, but the future of a civilization would be determined in the battle
to follow.
For hour upon hour the champions of two worlds collided. In the end, Abd-er-Rahman lay dead and his
vanquished cavalry routed. The lands of modern France, Germany, and Italy had been saved. Islam still
controlled Spain, however, as well as all that had been Christian in North Africa and the Middle East. The
sons of Mohammed retreated, only to prepare another invasion.
For three years the crusaders waged war until in July, 1099, Jerusalem was taken for the Church. For
generations to follow, however, Islam resisted the Crusaders bitterly. Finally, in 1187, the Muslims
recaptured Jerusalem and gradually pressed the Christian armies against Palestine's coast. Fearing disaster,
Pope Innocent III sounded the alarm, calling upon the knights of Europe to rescue their brethren and to save
the cause. But his warriors were weary, and they hesitated.
About the same time a ten-year-old German boy named Nicholas was heralding a similar message in the city
of Cologne. He, too, summoned an army of children to conquer Jerusalem and convert all of Palestine from
Islam to Christianity. He assured his breathless audiences that though the crusading knights of the great
kings had failed, they, by their simple dependence on God Himself, would succeed. Thousands of children
answered his call.
So by June, 1212, these unsuspecting lambs of Europe began to gather in flocks to begin their pilgrimage
southward. In an environment where good works were believed by many to earn eternal salvation and
earthly blessing, some fifty thousand children, or more, rallied in sincere submission to a God in whose
Hands they gladly placed their trust. Many prepared to march without provisions so that their faith might be
proven pure and their utter dependency on an all-powerful God proven. Their journey was called the
"Children's Crusade."
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The extraordinary devotion of these children brings a stunned pause to those of lesser commitment. But not
to be forgotten is the strange sacrifice of the parents who released their beloved children with both blessing
and tears. Their offering must have been tortuous and the excruciating pain of surrendering a child to the
mysteries and dangers of this kind of pilgrimage can hardly be imagined.
And what of other elders? Incredibly, evil profiteers encouraged legions of these young Isaacs toward their
sorrows with an eye on their own imagined earthly and eternal rewards. In fairness it ought to be noted that
Pope Innocent III offered no public endorsement of this crusade, though the history of church support for
crusades generally must have contributed to the populationÕs enthusiasm. Far from any known attempt to
prevent this unnecessary tragedy, he is recorded, instead, as having said, "These children put us to shame."
Others did declare their unwavering opposition to the crusade, arguing that the Devil himself had deceived
the people. Their words fell on deafened ears.
We are told that Stephan's children followed him in a long procession through central France, along the
Rhone River near Lyons, and through the magnificent countryside of Provence until they reached, at long
last, the port city of Marseilles. It is recorded that Stephan became known as "The Prophet" and rode in a
fine wagon draped in red banners. Along the way he enlarged his surging multitude by preaching and
prophesying with the self-proclaimed authority of Heaven itself. After costly delay, a perplexed king of
France finally ordered the legions home, but Stephan and his followers refused.
Chronicles depict the fair-haired army of little Germans as escorted by "butterfly and bird," singing the
familiar hymn, "Fairest Lord Jesus," otherwise titled, "The Crusaders' Hymn." These little crusaders
marched both in a main column, consisting of many thousands, as well as in countless numbers of small
bands. We are uncertain of their exact routes, but researchers generally agree that the German children did
not follow Nicholas exclusively. The original army divided, and a dissident group, as many as twenty
thousand, chose to travel the east bank of the Rhine. Their sad path is obscured with even more of history's
fog than that of Nicholas', but it is believed they eventually wandered far from the Rhine and into the
treacherous landscape of eastern Switzerland.
The suffering of these crusaders and the gripping ironies of their misadventure give us much to ponder.
Their crusade was such a horrible calamity that it seems history itself has kept it almost a secret. But no
matter how they suffered, these brave little warriors bore their adversities with a stubborn devotion that
still amazes us. And, as discomforting as their story is, can their journey be a compass for us to the gates of
better understanding? The questions their crusade raise need to be faced as fearlessly as they faced the
daunting Alps: What is the nature of true Faith? How does God use suffering in the lives of His people?
What can we expect from God in this troubled world? Whose side is God on in the midst of a "Holy War"?
And there are other urgent, painful political questions raised. Don't we all know that all too well?
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JOHN KNOX DREAMED BIG FOR GOD
AND SCOTLAND
John Knox.
John Knox was in Ormiston, Scotland, on the fateful evening in 1546 when Cardinal
Beaton arrested George Wishart. John tried to defend his friend with steel, but Wishart
plucked the sword out of his hand. He would burn for preaching reform in Scotland
but John need not. Wishart's death helped map John's future.
Others besides John Knox admired Wishart. Certain reform-minded Scots were so outraged by his execution
that they assassinated Beaton in his castle at St. Andrews and holed up within its walls.
When a roundup of Wishart supporters began, John fled to St. Andrews for protection. His teaching so
impressed the assassins that they asked him to become their pastor. John said no. The rebels argued that he
was refusing the call of God. John finally gave in. "Yet how small was my learning, and how weak I was of
judgment when Christ Jesus called me..." he later wrote.
John preached in the castle and in nearby towns, despite danger to himself. Like Wishart, he would boldly
preach the Scriptures.
He became so ill that no one expected him to live. Yet, one day, in sight of St. Andrews he prophesied, "...I
see the steeple of that place where God first opened my mouth in public to his glory, and I am fully
persuaded, however weak I appear, that I shall not depart this life till my tongue shall glorify His godly
name in the same place." He recovered.
Edward died and Mary Tudor became queen. John had to leave his wife and flee to Switzerland and John
Calvin's Geneva for safety because Catholic Mary burned outspoken Protestants.
Later, when John returned to England to fetch his wife, he found that reform ideas were still bubbling in
Scotland. He crossed over from England to preach. The Black Friars summoned him to Edinburgh to answer
charges of heresy. Powerful lords supported John, and the friars backed down. He returned again to Geneva
safely with his family.
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But the mood changed. John was nearly captured and punished as a second Wishart. In the nick of time,
friends rescued him. The situation soured for the reformers, and they were ready to give up until John stirred
up their courage and hope.
The tide finally turned when Elizabeth took the English throne. England and Scotland signed a treaty that
freed John to build the Kirk (Church). Under John, no one was burned or tortured for faith in Scotland.
Mary made him appear before her. John bluntly told her that any ruler who broke God's laws toward a
people could be removed by them.
Mary summoned John again when he preached against her proposed marriage to the Catholic prince, Don
Carlos of Spain. "What have you to do with my marriage?" she demanded. "Or what are you within this
Commonwealth?"
"A subject born within the same!" retorted John. The lowliest Scot had the same duty to warn his nation of
danger as the greatest lord.
When John urged the Scots to gather together to protect the Reformation faith, Mary put him on trial for
treason. At first the lords sided with Mary, but John's bold answers convinced them to issue a unanimous
verdict of "not guilty."
"Been There"
Mary's scandals drove her from the throne. John himself had to move to St. Andrews for safety after enemies
tried to assassinate him. As John grew old, his political influence declined. The day before he died at age 67,
he urged friends to live in Christ. He had been wrestling with God for the Kirk, he said. "I have been in
heaven!" When he could no longer speak, he held up two fingers to show he still had faith, and shortly
afterward he slipped into eternity.
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power on its side, was swept away. In its place was a Protestant Kirk, the Presbyterian Church, ruled not by
Roman hierarchy but by local clergy and elders.
• Under Knox's leadership, Scottish families were transformed. Countless men led worship in their own
homes. The singing of psalms in daily life became widespread. Because John placed heavy emphasis on
universal education, the Bible was read in every Scottish town and glen.
• Knox's idea that a ruler is responsible to the ruled influenced English and American politics. In Britain, the
Parliament that overthrew King Charles I was largely Presbyterian; and in America, Presbyterians were
prominent in the Revolution.
• The Presbyterian church became a force for good not just in Scotland but wherever Scots went. Famous
Presbyterians include John Flynn, visionary of Australia's Outback; David Livingstone, the explorer; Mary
Slessor, the missionary; and John Witherspoon, the educator. Most English-speaking nations have strong
Presbyterian traditions as do South Africa and South Korea, which Presbyterians evangelized.
• In Scotland, Knox led by example. "I sought neither pre-eminence, glory, nor riches; my honor was that
Christ Jesus should reign...."
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LOVELY ROSE TRADED LITERARY
FAME FOR FOUL BANDAGES; SHE
EMBRACED CANCER VICTIMS FOR
CHRIST'S SAKE.
Cancer. Does the thought of it send an uneasy ripple through your mind? Difficult as it is
today, imagine what it was like in the 1800s. People falsely believed it was contagious.
They thought you could catch cancer from others. This fear made them do awful things.
Rose Lathrop.
Rose Hawthorne Lathrop listened aghast to Rev. Alfred Young. The story he told was of a young
seamstress, a sensitive and cultured woman, who took ill of cancer. Terrified, her landlady threw her out of
her room. The girl's life savings were eaten up in a hopeless search for a cure. A private hospital sent her to
the city hospital. The city hospital packed her off to a poorhouse on Blackwell Island. Alone and friendless,
thrown among criminals and brutes, she died in despair. Her body was dumped into a pauper's grave.
Rose fell to her knees in tears and prayed, "God help me to help them."
"A fire was then lighted in my heart, where it still burns," she wrote many years later. Thanks in large
measure to Rose, stories like that of the little seamstress are not commonplace today.
Lady Friends
Rose knew that cancer struck terror into the hearts of rich and poor alike. Her friend, Emma Lazarus, had
died of cancer. Emma was the author of the words on the Statue of Liberty, "Give me your tired, your poor,
your huddled masses...." Emma's end was eased by all the comforts that money could buy and the love of a
caring family. Yet pain tightened her lips, and an unpleasant odor hung over her room. Rose agonized in
thinking, What must cancer be like for the poor who had no family, no comforts, no money?
A plan formed in Rose's mind. Although she was next door to poverty herself, she would rent cheap rooms
in the poorest part of town. There she would offer free nursing to poor and homeless women.
What made you "choose such an awful occupation?" asked friends. It was a good question. Well-born and
cultured, Rose had moved in the highest literary circles of New England and New York. Her father was the
famed novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne, author of The Scarlet Letter. Rose seemed destined to follow in his
steps. Her stories appeared in the Atlantic Monthly and St. Nicholas magazines, and she published a volume
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of poems, Along the Shore. She gave up all of this when she took a house in the slums to change icky
bandages. She wrote again but only to fund her work and promote it through a paper called Christ's Poor.
Late in 1897, one reader of Christ's Poor visited Rose. It was Alice Huber. Touched by Rose's sacrifice, she
joined her. (See her description below.) On December 8, 1900, three years after Alice's first visit, the two
established The Servants of Relief for Incurable Cancer.
A Rose Is a Rose
By the time of her death in 1926, Rose had ministered to thousands of cancer patients. During her thirty
years of cancer work, she drew hundreds of helpers into the task. Spurred by her prayers and appeals,
hospitals were built for cancer patients, largely through voluntary contributions.
At Rose's funeral, Reverend James A. Walsh, a friend of many years stated, "She loved all with a heart full
to overflowing, and she loved God with her whole mind.... I do not exaggerate when I say that she could
have taken her place in the chronicles of American literature, but she sought higher things. Her mind flew to
God; she gave it to Him; she diverted it to His purposes, and He accepted it, and she loved Him with her
whole mind." Merely a footnote in literature, Rose stands as a giant in that which 1 Corinthians chapter 13
tells us really lasts.
"A fair, bright faced woman (who was bandaging up an old woman's leg) rose from her work and came
forward to meet me.... I sat down on a green sofa, the only comfortable thing in the room, and glanced
about; everything was clean, but as crowded, poor and simple as could be; Mrs. Rose Lathrop was beautiful
and youthful looking, with a mass of rich auburn hair; she wore a nurse's dress and her manner of dealing
with the old women was cheerful and simple....
"...I must say that I felt intense disgust that first time, but Mrs. Lathrop seemed so cheerful and happy, and
looked so pleadingly at me as I was leaving that I said I could come again. After a while I came two
afternoons of each week, and in a few months' time resolved to leave the world and come live with Mrs.
Lathrop. It was only then that I began to realize the sacrifice and hardships of her life; it was work early and
late, sometimes far into the night; we were surrounded for the most part by a low class of people.... The
patients groaned, the women in the kitchen rattled pots and pans, and the people in the neighborhood never
seemed to go to bed.... We were at that time extremely poor-- boxes served as chairs . . . ."
Our world today is blessed by the magnificent ministries of hospice workers and inspired by the example of
Mother Theresa. Rose Hawthorne Lathrop was another of those great and faithful who never let us forget
that compassion and ministry to the most needy is an essential part of the Gospel.
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Nathaniel Hawthorne
A Father's Influence Long Felt
We may never know the effect of our small actions, but that does not mean they aren't important.
Nathaniel Hawthorne is famed as the author of one of America's greatest novels-- The Scarlet
Letter. But it may have been a small kindness, mentioned in Our Old Home, that most influenced
his daughter Rose. Nathaniel visited an English poorhouse where a diseased child rubbed against
his legs and held out hands in a plea to be lifted up. Although shrinking from the child's repulsive
sores, the author picked the boy up and caressed him. Nathaniel said later that he felt as if God
had promised the boy that kindness, and if he refused it, he could never again call himself a man.
Rose traced to her father her own ability to face the then loathsome tasks of cancer nursing. "The first
influence came from the attitude of my father's mind toward both moral and physical deformity and
corruption, manifested particularly in his writings where he shows clearly that he is 'brother' to the abject
element in mankind."
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FROM AD30 TO TODAY'S
AFRICA
At the turn of the 20th century, Christianity was virtually nonexistent in many parts of Africa but is now the
faith of the majority, as the following figures demonstrate:
Seychelles 96.9%
Saint Helena 96.2%
Sao Tomé & Principe 95.8%
Cape Verde Islands 95.1%
Namibia 92.3%
Burundi 91.7%
Congo-Brazzaville 91.2%
Lesotho 91%
Gabon 90.6%
Uganda 88.7%
South Africa 83.1%
Rwanda 82.7%
Spanish North Africa 80.3%
Equatorial Guinea 76.6%
Central African Republic 67.8%
Zimbabwe 67.5%
Botswana 59.9%
Cameroon 54.2%
Ethiopia 57.7%
Ghana 55.4%
Eritrea 50.5%
Tanzania 50.4%
Madagascar 49.5%
Nigeria 45.9%
Togo 42.6%
The Christian Church has been continuously present on the African continent since the days of Christ. While
the history of African Christianity is multifaceted in its regional development, it is, nevertheless, possible to
discern four general phases in the planting and maturing of the African Church.
Part 1: The Genesis of the Church The Ancient Church in Egypt and Ethiopia
During the first three centuries after Christ, Africa was a major center of Christian thought and activity.
Origen was from Alexandria in Egypt, while Tertullian and Augustine were from North Africa. By the end
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of the third century, Christians in the eastern Magrib were in the majority. Sadly, Christianity in much of
North Africa virtually disappeared as Islam advanced in the following centuries. In Egypt and in Ethiopia,
however, it had taken deep root, and was thus able to survive the Islamic juggernaut and continues to this
day.
Two great British champions from the nineteenth century were Thomas Fowell Buxton and Henry Venn,
neither of whom ever set foot on African soil. While Buxton sought to fully eradicate the slave trade by
encouraging local commercial and agricultural initiatives in its place, Venn is responsible for laying down
the principles of the “indigenous church” whereby the nascent African church began to come of age.
When Ajayi was about thirteen, his village was raided, apparently by a combination of Fulani and Oyo
Muslims. Crowther twice recorded his memories of the event, vividly recalling the desolation of burning
houses, the horror of capture and roping by the neck, the slaughter of those unfit to travel, the distress of
being torn from relatives. The young man was bought and sold six times before being sold to Portuguese
traders for the transatlantic market.
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the New World. Following the abolition of the slave trade by the British Parliament in 1807 and the
subsequent treaties with other nations to outlaw the traffic, Sierra Leone achieved a new importance. It was a
base for the naval squadron that searched vessels to find if they were carrying slaves. It was also the place
where slaves were brought if any were found aboard. The Portuguese ship on which Ajayi was taken as a
slave was intercepted by the British naval squadron in April, 1822, and he, like thousands of other uprooted,
disorientated people from inland Africa, was put ashore in Sierra Leone.
He was baptized by the Reverend John Rahan, of the (Anglican) Church Missionary Society, taking the
name Samuel Crowther, after a member of that societyÕs home committee. Mr. Crowther was an eminent
clergyman; his young namesake was to make the name far more celebrated.
In 1827 the Church Missionary Society established Fourah Bay College to develop Christian leadership for
Africa. It eventually offered the first university education in tropical Africa. Crowther was one of its first
students.
He developed an interest in linguistics and was soon appointed a schoolmaster, serving in the new villages
created to receive "liberated Africans" from the slave ships. A schoolmaster was an evangelist; in Sierra
Leone, church and school were inseparable. He was an eager, vigorous young man who, at least at first, was
highly confrontational in his encounters with representatives of Islam and the old religions in Africa. In later
life he mellowed and saw the need to build personal relationships, and he developed the ability to listen
patiently.
The second development was the Niger Expedition of 1841, the brief flowering of the humanitarian vision of
Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton for Africa. This investigative mission intended to prepare the way for an alliance
of ÒChristianity, commerce and civilizationÓ that would destroy the slave trade and bring peace and
prosperity to the Niger. It relied heavily on Sierra Leone for interpreters and other helpers. The missionary
society representatives also came from Sierra Leone. One was J.F. Schšn, a German missionary who had
striven with languages of the Niger, learning from liberated Africans in Sierra Leone. The other was
Crowther.
Crowther's services to the extremely difficult expedition were invaluable. Schšn cited them as evidence of
his thesis that the key to the evangelization of inland Africa lay in Sierra Leone. Sierra Leone had Christians
such as Crowther to form the task force. It had among the liberated Africans brought there from the slave
ships a vast language laboratory for the study of all the languages of West Africa as well as a source of
native speakers as missionaries, and in the institution at Fourah Bay it had a base for study and training.
The Niger Expedition had shown CrowtherÕs qualities, and he was brought to England for study and
ordination. Meanwhile, the new connection between Sierra Leone and Yorubaland had convinced the CMS
of the timeliness of a mission to the Yoruba. There had been no opportunity to train that African mission
force foreseen by Schšn and Crowther in their report on the Niger Expedition, but at least in Crowther there
was one ordained Yoruba missionary available. Thus, after an initial reconnaissance by Henry Townsend, an
English missionary from Sierra Leone, a mission party went to Abeokuta, the state of the Egba section of the
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Yoruba people. It was headed by Townsend, Crowther, and a German missionary, C.A. Gollmer, with a
large group of Sierra Leoneans from the liberated Yoruba community. These included carpenters and
builders who were also teachers and catechists. The mission intended to demonstrate a whole new way of
life, of which the church and the school and the well-built house were all a part. They were establishing
Sierra Leone in Yorubaland. The Sierra Leone trader-immigrants, the people who had first brought
Abeokuta to the attention of the mission, became the nucleus of the new Christian community. There was a
particularly moving incident for Crowther, when he was reunited with the mother and sister from whom he
had been separated when the raiders took them more than twenty years earlier. They were among the first in
Abeokuta to be baptized.
In Sierra Leone the church had used English in its worship. The new mission worked in Yoruba with the
advantage of native speakers and CrowtherÕs literary gifts. But the most demanding activity was Bible
Translation. The Yoruba version was a most important milestone. It was not the first translation into an
African language; but, insofar as Crowther was the leading influence in its production, it was the first by a
native speaker. In no earlier case was a native speaker able to judge and act on an equal footing with the
European.
The best-known aspect of Crowther's later career is also the most controversial: his representation of the
indigenous church principle. He was the first ordained minister of his church in his place. Meanwhile, back
in England, Henry Venn, then newly at the helm of the CMS, sought self-governing, self-supporting, self-
propagating churches with a fully indigenous pastorate. In Anglican terms, this meant indigenous bishops.
The missionary role was a temporary one; once a church was established, the missionary should move on.
Venn had made a new sphere of leadership for Crowther, the outstanding indigenous minister in West
Africa. But he went further, and in 1864 secured the consecration of Crowther as bishop of "the countries of
Western Africa beyond the limits of the Queen's dominions." Crowther, a genuinely humble man, resisted;
Venn would take no refusal.
Crowther's Legacy
The story of the later years of the Niger still raises passions and causes bitterness. Young liberal elements
oppposed Venn's principles. European missionaries were brought into the mission and then took it over,
brushing aside the old bishop (he was over eighty) and suspending or dismissing his staff. In 1891 Crowther,
a desolate, broken man, suffered a stroke; on the last day of the year, he died. A European bishop was
appointed to succeed him.
Crowther was the outstanding representative of a whole body of West African church leaders who came to
the fore in the pre-Imperial age and were superseded in the Imperial. But the Imperial age itself was to be
only an episode. The legacy of Samuel (Ajayi) Crowther, the humble, devout exponent of a Christian faith
that was essentially African and essentially missionary, has passed to the whole vast church of Africa and
thus to the whole vast church of Christ.
The Greatest Thing in the World! What is it? What Do You Say?
Great faith? A big job? Superior Education? Being liked? Passion? Love? Being
smart? Athletic prowess? Respectability? Wealth? Hope?
So, what did you say was "the greatest thing in the world?"
What did Henry say was the greatest thing? You probably guessed it:
The greatest thing in all the world is Love.
Every one has asked himself the great question of antiquity as of the modern world: What is the . . . noblest
object of desire, the supreme gift to covet?
We have been accustomed to be told that the greatest thing in the religious world is Faith. That great word
has been the keynote for centuries of the popular religion; and we have easily learned to look upon it as the
greatest thing in the world. Well, we are wrong. If we have been told that, we may miss the mark. I have
taken you, in the chapter which I have just read [Editor’s note: he always began his talk by reading I
Corinthians 13], to Christianity at its source; and there we have seen, "The greatest of these is love." It is not
an oversight. Paul was speaking of faith just a moment before. He says, "If I have all faith, so that I can
remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing." So far from forgetting, he deliberately contrasts them,
"Now abideth Faith, Hope, Love," and without a moment's hesitation, the decision falls, "The greatest of
these is Love."
And it is not prejudice. A man is apt to recommend to others his own strong point. Love was not Paul's
strong point. The observing student can detect a beautiful tenderness growing and ripening all through his
character as Paul gets old; but the hand that wrote, "The greatest of these is love," when we meet it first, is
stained with blood.
Nor is this letter to the Corinthians peculiar in singling out love as the summum bonum. The masterpieces of
Christianity are agreed about it. Peter says, "Above all things have fervent love among yourselves." Above
all things. And John goes farther, "God is love." And you remember the profound remark which Paul makes
elsewhere, "Love is the fulfilling of the law." Did you ever think what he meant by that? In those days men
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were working their passage to Heaven by keeping the Ten Commandments, and the hundred and ten other
commandments which they had manufactured out of them. Christ said, I will show you a more simple way.
If you do one thing, you will do these hundred and ten things, without ever thinking about them. If you love,
you will unconsciously fulfill the whole law. . . . "Love is the fulfilling of the law." It is the rule for fulfilling
all rules, the new commandment for keeping all the old commandments, Christ's one secret of the Christian
life.
Now Paul had learned that; and in this noble eulogy he has given us the most wonderful and original account
extant of the summum bonum. We may divide it into three parts. In the beginning of the short chapter, we
have Love contrasted; in the heart of it, we have Love analyzed; towards the end we have Love defended as
the supreme gift.
. . . .To love abundantly is to live abundantly, and to love for ever is to live for ever. Hence, eternal life is
inextricably bound up with love. We want to live forever for the same reason that we want to live tomorrow.
Why do you want to live tomorrow? It is because there is someone who loves you, and whom you want to
see tomorrow, and be with, and love back. There is no other reason why we should live on than that we love
and are beloved. It is when a man has no one to love him that he commits suicide. So long as he has friends,
those who love him and whom he loves, he will live; because to live is to love. Be it but the love of a dog, it
will keep him in life; but let that go and he has no contact with life, no reason to live. The "energy of life"
has failed. Eternal life also is to know God, and God is love. This is Christ’s own definition. Ponder it. "This
is life eternal, that they might know Thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent." Love
must be eternal. It is what God is. On the last analysis, then, love is life. Love never faileth, and life never
faileth, so long as there is love. That is the philosophy of what Paul is showing us; the reason why in the
nature of things Love should be the supreme thing -- because it is going to last; because in the nature of
things it is an Eternal Life. That Life is a thing that we are living now, not that we get when we die; that we
shall have a poor chance of getting when we die unless we are living now. No worse fate can befall anyone
in this world than to live and grow old alone, unloving, and unloved. To be lost is to live in an unregenerate
condition, loveless and unloved; and to be saved is to love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth already in
God. For God is love.
The Challenge
How many of you will join me in reading I Corinthians 13 once a week for the next three months? . . . It is
for the greatest thing in the world. You might begin by reading it every day, especially the verses which
describe the perfect character. "Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself."
Get these ingredients into your life. Then everything that you do is eternal. It is worth doing. It is worth
giving time to. No man can become a saint in his sleep; and to fulfil the condition required demands a
certain amount of prayer and meditation and time, just as improvement in any direction, bodily or mental,
requires preparation and care. Address yourselves to that one thing; at any cost have this transcendent
character exchanged for yours. You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments that stand
out, the moments when you have really lived, are the moments when you have done things in a spirit of love.
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of modern science; one of the earliest evangelical authors to gain wide popular appeal. For these reasons and
more, this modest servant -- today most famous as author of a remarkable little essay on I Corinthians 13,
The Greatest Thing in the World -- deserves a special place in Christians' memory.
Warmly accepted in three visits to the United States (1879, 1887, 1893), Henry Drummond was welcomed
among Ivy League institutions and others. Amherst College granted him an honorary doctorate. When he
departed Harvard after speaking to crowds of impressed undergraduates, Professor Peabody analogized that
Drummond’s appearance there was “as though a comet had flashed upon the view and had left a trail of light
as it sank below the horizon.” A Boston newspaperman wrote in 1893, "Next to the death of Phillips Brooks,
the event which stirred Boston religious circles most profoundly last winter was the presence in the city for
two months of Professor Henry Drummond." Of the young Scot's time at Yale, William Lyon Phelps, no
stranger to the speaker's rostrum, opined, "I have never seen so deep an impression made on students, by any
speaker on any subject."
Chautauqua's audience found Drummond to be "a worldwide celebrity" whose "modesty was phenomenal."
After the first of his Lowell Lectures at Lowell Institute in 1893, he was compelled to a repeat performance
of each address in the series, so packed was the hall, and so great was the demand to hear him. On his visits,
the American public dazzled Drummond with offers of presidencies of colleges, invitations to address major
institutions and societies, and competing bids among lecture bureaus.
Unaccustomed to such attention, the 35-year-old sensation wrote his parents from the U.S. (July 1, 1887): "I
am tearing away here at American speed. Already I have been asked to become principal of a college, ditto
of another college, to write for various papers, to lecture in half the states of the Union, and otherwise to line
my pocket with dollars. But I have refused all wiles...." -- from an article by Thomas E. Corts and Marla H.
Corts
Yet Luther never wanted to be a renowned world shaper. He was more concerned to save his own soul and
entered a monastery to get away from the world and seek his own salvation. But in finding his salvation he
rediscovered foundations of Biblical Christianity that shook the late Medieval world and challenged its
assumptions about religious authority, what God was like, how we are to approach him, and how God saves
us. So hear from the man who rocked the world in the 16th century and did much to pave the way for the
modern world.
"My mother once beat me up with a cane for stealing a nut until the blood came. Such strict discipline drove
me to the monastery, although she meant well. . . . My father once flogged me so cruelly that I fled away
from him, and came to bear a grudge against him. It was a long time until he again won my confidence."
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As a Child, the Name of Christ Made Him Cringe
"From early childhood I was accustomed to turn pale and tremble whenever I heard the name of Christ
mentioned, for I was taught to look upon Him as a stern and wrathful Judge." "We were taught that we
ourselves had to atone for our sins, and since we could not make sufficient amends or do acceptable works,
our teachers directed us to the saints in heaven, and made us call upon Mary the Mother of Christ and
implore her to avert from us ChristÕs wrath, and make Him inclined to be merciful to us."
The Gates of Paradise Opened with His Great Discovery: Justification by Faith
"As I meditated day and night on the words 'as it is written, the righteous person shall live by faith,' I began
to understand that the righteous person lives by the gift of a passive righteousness, by which the merciful
God justifies us by faith. This immediately made me feel as though I had been born again, and as though I
had entered through open gates into paradise itself. God accepts Christ's righteousness, which is alien to our
nature, as our own. Though God does not actually remove our sins -- we are at the same time righteous and
sinful -- he no longer counts our sins against us. And now, where I had once hated the phrase, 'the
righteousness of God,' I began to love and extol it as the sweetest of phrases, so that this passage in Paul
became the very gate of paradise to me."
Luther's Self Understanding Grows Through Friendship with his Fellow Theologian and Colleague --
Philip Melanchthon
"I prefer the books of Magister Philippus to my own. I am rough, boisterous, stormy, and altogether warlike.
I am born to fight against innumerable monsters and devils. I must remove stumps and stones, cut away
thistles and thorns, and clear the wild forests. But Magister Philippus comes along softly and gently, sowing
and watering with joy according to the gifts which God has abundantly bestowed upon him."
Dare One Man Stand Against the Power of Christendom and Rome? "Just Show Me from Scripture," He
Pleads Before the Diet of Worms in 1521 "If convicted, I am willing and ready to revoke any error and shall
be the first one to throw my books into the fire."
"Unless I can be instructed and convinced with evidence from the Holy Scriptures or by clear and distinct
grounds of reasoning. . . then I cannot and will not recant because it is neither safe nor wise to act against
conscience."
When Peasants Rose Up in Revolt, Luther Came Down Hard for "Law And Order"
"Wrongs perpetrated by those in authority are no excuse for rebellion. If the rulers refuse to do right, God
will find a way to punish them, but Christians must always defend law and order against mob-rule, self-help,
and anarchy. The revolutionists cannot call upon God, since they rely exclusively on their own fists."
"Smite, strangle, and stab the peasants, secretly or openly, for nothing can be more poisonous, hurtful, or
devilish than a rebel. It is just as when one must kill a mad dog; if you do not strike him, he will strike you
and a whole land with you. Do not hesitate to cut, knock down, and kill. This is a service of love, to save
your neighbor from the bonds of the devil and of hell."
The Tender Heart of a Combative Theologian Over the Deaths of His Daughters, Magdalena and
Elizabeth
"Magdalena, my little daughter, would you like to stay with your father here, or would you willingly go to
your Father in heaven?"
"I love her very much, but, dear God, if it be thy will to take her, I submit to thee."
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"Beloved Lena, you will rise and shine like a star, yea, like the sun."
"My little daughter Elizabeth is dead. It is marvelous that how sick at heart it has left me, so much do I
grieve for her. I would never have believed that a father's heart could be so tender for his child. Pray the
Lord for me."
"So strong is natural affection that we must sob and groan in heart, under the oppression of killing grief. . . .
Even the death of Christ is unable to take all this away as it should."
"O Lord Jesus Christ, I commend my poor soul to Thee. O Heavenly Father, I know that, although I shall be
taken away from this life, I shall live forever with Thee. God so loved the world that He gave His only
begotten Son that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. Into Thy hands I
commend my spirit, for Thou has redeemed me, Thou God of truth."
With the Advance of Reformation the Requirement that Pastors Be Single Was Challenged. . . . Luther
Allowed and Encouraged Pastors to Marry. For Himself, Though, He Hesitated for a While. Here is a
Sampling of His Comments on Married Life.
"Good heavens! Will our Wittenbergers give wives to monks? They won't force a wife on me!"
"If one could serve one's neighbor in holy orders, then one should remain. On the other hand, if one could
serve the neighbor better outside the monastery or cloister, then one should live in the world, and monastic
vows were not binding."
"Like Abraham, I am the father of a great people for I am responsible for all the children of the monks and
nuns who have renounced their monastic vows."
"I am not now inclined to take a wife. Not that I lack the feelings of a man, for I am neither wood nor stone,
but my mind is averse to marriage because I daily expect the death decreed to the heretic."
"I hope to live a short time. Yet to gratify my father, who asked me to marry and leave him descendants; and
moreover so that I would confirm by my example what I have taught, God has willed and caused my act. For
I neither love my wife nor burn for her, but esteem her."
"If I had not married her quickly and quietly, only a few friends knowing it, they all would have prevented
it; for even my best friends cried, 'Not this one but someone else.'"
"I would not surrender my Katie for France and Venice together."
" If, in a marriage, the husband shows no forbearance toward his wife and the wife none toward her husband,
then the married state will soon become a tyranny, and everything will be ruined."
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"It was a right and proper part of the Christian faith for a man to join his wife at the wash-tub and wash the
swaddling clothes."
"If I can survive the wrath of the Devil in my sinful conscience, I can withstand the anger of (my wife)
Katherine von Bora."
"This life has nothing more lovely and delightful than a woman who loves her husband."
It would be a mistake to romanticize the early church as an age of purity to which we should
seek to return. The churches always had their problems and internal struggles. Nevertheless, the early
churches as a whole did represent something different in their world. It attracted both devoted followers and
brutal persecutors. To see what these early believers were like, let's go to the sources and hear what they
were bold to proclaim about themselves.
Since you are called pious and philosophers, guardians of justice and lovers of learning, pay
attention and listen to my address. If you are indeed followers of learning, it will be clear.
We have not come to flatter you by this writing nor please you by our address, but to beg
that you pass judgment after an accurate and searching investigation. . . . As for us, no evil
can be done to us unless we are convicted as evildoers or proved to be wicked men. You can
kill us. But you cannot hurt us.
To avoid anyone thinking that this is an unreasonable and reckless declaration, we demand
that the charges against the Christians be investigated. If these are substantiated, we should
be justly punished. But if no one can convict us of anything, true reason forbids you to
wrong blameless men because of evil rumors. If you did so, you would be harming
yourselves in governing affairs by emotions rather than by intelligence. . . . It is our task,
therefore, to provide to all an opportunity of inspecting our life and teachings. . . . It is your
business, when you hear us, to be good judges, as reason demands. If, when you have
learned the truth, you do not do what is just, you will be without excuse before God.
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For the Christians are distinguished from other men neither by country, nor language, nor
the customs which they observe. For they neither inhabit cities of their own, nor employ a
peculiar form of speech, nor lead a life which is marked out by any singularity. The course
of conduct which they follow has not been devised by any speculation or deliberation of
inquisitive men; nor do they, like some, proclaim themselves the advocates of any merely
human doctrines. But, inhabiting Greek as well as barbarian cities, according as the lot of
each of them has determined and following the customs of the natives in respect to clothing,
food, and the rest of their ordinary conduct, they display to us their wonderful and
confessedly striking method of life.
They dwell in their own countries, but simply as sojourners. As citizens, they share in all
things with others and yet endure all things as if foreigners. Every foreign land is to them as
their native country, and every land of their birth as a land of strangers. They marry, as do
all others; they beget children; but they do not destroy their offspring. They have a common
table, but not a common bed. They are in the flesh, but they do not live after the flesh. They
pass their days on earth, but they are citizens of heaven. They obey the prescribed laws, and
at the same time surpass the laws by their lives. They love all men and are persecuted by all.
They are unknown and condemned; they are put to death and restored to life. They are poor
yet make many rich; they are in lack of all things and yet abound in all; they are dishonored
and yet in their very dishonor are glorified. They are evil spoken of and yet are justified;
they are reviled and bless; they are insulted and repay the insult with honor; they do good
yet are punished as evildoers. When punished, they rejoice as if quickened into life; they are
assailed by the Jews as foreigners and are persecuted by the Greeks; yet those who hate
them are unable to assign any reason for their hatred. To sum it all up in one word -- what
the soul is to the body, that are Christians in the world.
An anonymous document was published containing the names of many persons. Those who
denied that they were or had been Christians, when they invoked the words dictated by me,
offered prayer with incense and wine to your image, which I had ordered to be brought for
this purpose together with statues of the gods, and moreover cursed Christ -- none of which
those who are really Christians, it is said, can be forced to do -- these I thought should be
discharged. Others named by the informer declared that they were Christians, but then
denied it, asserting that they had been but had ceased to be, some three years before, others
many years, some as much as twenty-five years, They all worshipped your image and the
statues of the Gods, and cursed Christ. They asserted, however, that the sum and substance
of their fault or error had been that they were accustomed to meet on a fixed day before
dawn and sing responsively a hymn to Christ as a god, and to bind themselves by oath, not
to some crime, but not to commit, fraud, theft, or adultery, not falsify their trust, nor to
refuse to return a trust when called upon to do so. When this was over, it was their custom to
depart and to assemble again to partake of food -- but ordinary and innocent food. Even this,
they affirmed, they had ceased to do after my edict by which, in accordance with your
instructions, I had forbidden political associations. Accordingly, I judged it all the more
necessary to find out what the truth was by torturing two female slaves who were called
deaconesses. But I discovered nothing else but depraved, excessive superstition.
". . . Christianity served as a revitalization movement that arose in response to the misery,
chaos, fear, and brutality of life in the urban Greco-Roman world. . . . Christianity
revitalized life in Greco-Roman cities by providing new norms and new kinds of social
relationships able to cope with many urgent problems. To cities filled with the homeless and
impoverished, Christianity offered charity as well as hope. To cities filled with newcomers
and strangers, Christianity offered an immediate basis for attachment. To cities filled with
orphans and widows, Christianity provided a new and expanded sense of family. To cities
torn by violent ethnic strife, Christianity offered a new basis for social solidarity. And to
cities faced with epidemics, fire, and earthquakes, Christianity offered effective nursing
services. . . . For what they brought was not simply an urban movement, but a new culture
capable of making life in Greco-Roman cities more tolerable." Rodney Stark, The Rise of
Christianity,
Princeton University Press, 1996, page 161
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The world has long forgotten the names of the some one hundred or so clergymen who lived at the Paris
monastery, the ones whose stomachs and feet Nicolas Herman served. But history has never forgotten that
humble kitchen worker and sandal fixer. He is gratefully remembered around the world by the other name
that he chose for himself, Brother Lawrence. Brother Lawrence's life, experience and teaching set forth a
way of relating to God that has become for many -- after God's forgiveness through Christ -- the greatest
discovery of their lives. It is summed up in the simple description, "The Practice of the Presence of God."
Brother Lawrence never wrote a book. After his death 15 of his letters and recollections of conversations
with a colleague were gathered and published. Protestants as well as Catholics recognized the treasure that
his life and counsel represented for Christians. John Wesley even included his work in the Christian library
he published for his converts.
On the following pages we give an adaptation and paraphrased summary drawn from the letters, with some
modernization for ease of comprehension. Sometimes we have combined similar thoughts from various
letters. Hopefully your appetite will be stirred to want to read the whole, unedited comments. Most libraries
would have an edition. Or you can get the full text online at http://www.practicegodspresence.com.
I did not find my way of approaching God in books on the spiritual life or from the experience of others. For
example, I was talking a few days ago with a very devout person, and he told me how the spiritual life was a
series of stages. First one begins with servile fear. Then one grows into the hope of the eternal life. This
leads to the realization of pure love. Each of these has its own different steps, but at the end one arrives at a
blessed state.
That isn't the way I went about it or understood it. In fact this kind of approach discouraged me. So when I
devoted my life to God, I simply made a resolution to give myself completely to him the best way I knew
how by turning from my sinfulness and seeking to love him.
At first I followed the normal pattern of observing the regular times set apart for devotions and kept my
mind on thoughts of death, judgment, heaven, hell and my sins. This I did for some years. And I applied my
mind towards God not only in the hours of prayer and devotion but throughout the day, even in my work,
always believing that God was with me and in me.
So this is the way I began. But I have to tell you that for the first ten years I found it very difficult. I thought
that I was not as devoted to God as I should be. My past sins seemed to be always pressing in on my mind. I
fell often but would then get up again. It seemed sometimes as though everything, even God himself, was
against me.
A Sudden Breakthrough
Throughout all this I still trusted God but at the same time wondered if I had to look forward to these
troubles and struggles for the rest of my life. Then something happened suddenly that changed everything,
and my troubled soul found a profound inward peace. Ever since that time I have simply walked before God
in faith, with humility and with love and I apply myself diligently to do nothing that might displease him. I
do what I can and then let him do with me whatever he wants.
So how can I describe what goes on in me? I am perfectly at peace with my situation. I want nothing but
what God wants in things both great and small. I would not even take up a piece of straw from the ground if
I thought he didn’t want me to but would run to pick it up out of love for him if that is what he wanted.
I have put aside all set procedures for devotion and seek only to continue in his presence. I keep myself there
by giving heed to what I pay attention to and by my fond regard of God. This brings a sense of God's actual
presence that is constant and silent but at the same time a secret conversation of my soul with God. This
brings me great joy and inner rapture. Sometimes I feel such an overflowing sense of God's presence that I
have to deliberately find a way to restrain and subdue myself when others are nearby.
It is my conviction that the practice of the presence of God is the center of the spiritual life. Whoever truly
practices it will soon become spiritual. But to truly practice it, the heart must empty out everything else so
God alone may possess the heart and do whatever he wants with us. There is nothing in all the world that we
can find in life more pleasant and joyful then a continual conversation with God. Those who never
experienced it cannot understand. But it is not for the pleasure to be gained that we should seek God's
presence but pursue it out of love for him and because God wants us to.
If I were a preacher I would above everything else preach the practice of the presence of God. If I were a
spiritual director I would advise the same. So necessary I think it to be -- and so easy, too.
If we really knew how much we needed the grace and assistance of God, we would never let him out of our
sight. No, not for a moment.
It is not necessary to be in church to be with God. We may make an altar of our heart to which we can go
from time to time to converse with him in meekness, humility, and love. When we make him the center of
our life and attention, then even the sufferings we endure can be seen in a positive way and provide a certain
satisfaction. The paradox is this: With God even suffering can be pleasant but without him even life's
greatest pleasures can be as a cruel punishment.
We must learn to grow in God's presence by a process. It is step-by-step. Don't be locked into rigid formulas
or rules or particular forms of devotion. Don't try to go faster than grace. One does not become holy all at
once.
We cannot expect to escape the many dangers around us without God's help. So we need to pray to him for
his help continually. How can we pray to him without being with him? How can we be with him if we do not
think of him often? And how can we think of him often unless it is a holy habit in our lives? You may think
I repeat this too much. But this is the best and easiest way I know. We must know before we can love. In
order to know God we must often think of him. When we come to love him, we shall also think of him often
for our heart will be with our treasure.
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So think of God all the time -- during the day, at night, in your daily work, even in your leisure time
activities. He is always nearby. Don't ignore him. If you had a friend nearby, you would not ignore him
when he came to visit. Why then would you neglect God? In short, do not forget him. Think of him often.
Adore him continually. Live and die with him. As a Christian this is our job and calling. This is what we are
here for. It is glorious!
I do not know what God is going to do with me. I am happy all the time and bear with whatever comes my
way. I know I deserve the most severe discipline, and yet I find that I am filled with joy continually, joy that
is sometimes so great I can scarcely bear it.
This month is the 20th anniversary of Christian History Institute. We were formed to
provide Christians today with pathways into our past. Our mission is to bring our heritage
alive. We set out to provide materials that are visually appealing while maintaining
scholarly integrity.
Our first project was Christian History magazine. The magazine is still published now by Christianity Today
International.
In the inaugural issue of the magazine we set forth the basic assumption behind all of our efforts:
Christians are handicapped by a lack of knowledge of the story of those who have preceded
us in generations past. The Scriptures continually call us to remember God's work in ages
past and this must now also include the working of our Lord through the centuries since the
Scriptures were completed. We are too easily captive to the contemporary and become
unthinking assenters to our culture's seduction by the now, the latest, the present moment.
Understanding of Christian history will help us in many ways. We will uncover precedents
in the past of how God has worked. We will gain perspective that will help us see our
current situation in a new light. We will develop a sense of continuity and see how the
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unfolding of God's purposes transcends any single generation, century, denomination,
geography or ideology.
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FREEDOM'S FORGOTTEN HERO: ROGER
WILLIAMS WON LIBERTY OF
CONSCIENCE
It was the kind of experience that tests the limits of human endurance. A solitary
figure slogged through snow drifts in a wild, uninhabited landscape. His face was
pinched with cold and hunger. 1636 was one of the coldest winters the colonists
in Massachusetts could remember, and the man, Roger Williams, would be out in
it for fourteen weeks.
Roger Williams receiving land grant from Narragansett Indians. His cordial
relationships with native Americans prompted Massachusetts authorities eventually to ask Williams to
negotiate with tribes during a war with the Pequot Indians. Williams was so helpful that Massachusetts
actually considered revoking his banishment.
When I was unkindly and unchristianly... driven from my house and land and wife and
children (in the midst of a New England winter, now about thirty-five years past) at Salem,
that ever-honored Governor, Mr. Winthrop, privately wrote me to steer my course to
Narragansett Bay...I took his prudent notion as a hint and voice from God, and waiving all
other thoughts and motions, I steered my course from Salem (though in winter snow, which
I feel yet) unto these parts, wherein...I have seen the face of God.
Roger was on the run. Someone -- perhaps his old friend Governor John Winthrop -- had tipped him off that
Massachusetts agents were on their way to seize him and send him back to England.
If he appeared in England, Roger would have to face the wrath of Archbishop William Laud, a notorious
persecutor of Separatists (Puritans who wanted to separate from the Church of England). Rather than run
that risk, Roger preferred to brave the elements alone in the frozen wilderness.
For instance, he said that the king of England had no right to give away land that belonged to Native
Americans. This was land on which whites had already settled without payment. He also insisted that
governments have no right to force people to hold a certain set of religious beliefs, a practice he compared to
rape.
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way God had provided for him in his exile. He was also founder of the state of Rhode Island and founded
the first Baptist church in America.
Practicing his own principles, Roger purchased land from Native Americans. However, to guard the settlers'
interests, he also obtained a charter from Great Britain. Rhode Island's charter was the first document in the
history of the American people to guarantee religious freedom to all of the inhabitants of a political unit.
Jews and Quakers, persecuted throughout Europe, quickly began to make their way to Rhode Island, where
they could enjoy what Roger called "soul liberty."
It was the sixteenth century Anabaptists in Switzerland who first raised strenuous objections and called for
religion to be independent from civil authorities. But they were too radical for their time and were
effectively put down.
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It was Roger Williams in Rhode Island who was the first to establish effectively an official government
policy and implemented law that religion was to be free and up to the individual with no civic interference.
"It is true, Christ hath appointed spiritual means for the avoiding and preventing the
infection of heresies. . .but that hindereth not the lawful and necessary use of a civil sword
for the punishment of some such offenses as are subject to church censure. . . .
"As: 1. That when the church hath cast out an heretic, yet he still remaineth obstinate and
proceedeth to seduce and destroy the faith of some (it may be many). . . . If the magistrate's
sword do here rust in the scabbard, such leaven may leaven the whole mass of city or
country. . ."
States have no right to dictate beliefs said Roger Williams, advocating separation of the two.
"True it is, the sword [persecution] may make a whole nation of hypocrites. But to recover a
soul from Satan by repentance. . .that only works the all-powerful God by the sword of the
Spirit [God's word] in the hand of his spiritual officers.
". . . the civil state is bound before God to take off that bond and yoke of soul oppression
and to proclaim free and impartial liberty to all the people...to choose and maintain what
worship and ministry their souls and consciences are persuaded of. . . ."
Three archangels. Left to Right: Michael, Raphael and Gabriel with an icon of
Christ. This Greek icon most likely dates from near the end of the 19th century.
There is the old story that theologians would struggle over the problem of how
many angels could dance on the head of a pin. And during these times of their popularity, images of angels
were seen everywhere: in churches, on public buildings, on monuments of every description.
By the time of the Renaissance with the rediscovery of the Greek and Roman classics, the depiction of
angels became somewhat distorted. They were great muscular Greek gods or fat, rosy, naked babies like
Cupids and were called cherubs --a far cry from the cherubim of the Bible. By the 19th century, angels were
depicted more often in feminine form, beautiful winged ladies who looked after little children.
In our late 20th and early 21st centuries angels have had a comeback. New-agers took a great interest in
things "spiritual" including angels. Billy Graham's book on Angels (1975) was a best-seller. Most surprising
was to see American network television (Viacom's CBS), usually so timid with regard to anything respectful
of Biblical faith, take a risk and find a top-rated program in Touched by an Angel.
For even I, though I am bound [for Christ] yet am not on that account able to understand heavenly things,
and the places of the angels, and their gatherings under their respective princes, things visible and
invisible . . . . I am still but a learner . . . . (Epistle to the Trallians, Ante-Nicene Father, Vol. 1)
For to invoke angels without having obtained a knowledge of their nature greater than is possessed by men
would be contrary to reason. But, comformably to our hypothesis, let this knowledge of them, which is
something wonderful and mysterious, be obtained. Then this knowledge, making known to us their nature,
and the offices to which they are severally appointed, will not permit us to pray with confidence to any other
than to the Supreme God, who is sufficient for all things . . . . (Origen Against Celsus, Book 5, Chapter 5,
Ante-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 4)
There is a certain greatness in the angels; and such power, that if the angels exert it to the full, it cannot be
withstood. And every man desireth the power of the angels, but their righteousness every man loveth not.
First love righteousness, and power shall follow thee. (On Psalm 96, Nicene and post-Nicene Fathers, Vol.
8)
They Are Full of Joy and Songs --Luther on the Nature of Angels and their Love for Us.
Forget what fallen man dreams about angels . . . . [they] sing with joy the glory of God . . . . They
acknowledge that everything is of God . . . . They themselves give nothing and with great zeal they . . . give
praise only to the one to whom it belongs. Therefore, if you want to bring to mind humble, pure, obedient,
God-pleasing and joyous hearts in God, then think of these angels. Here you see what kind and great friends
they are to us, that they are no less favorable to us than they are to themselves, also rejoicing over our
salvation as if it were their own . . . . See, that is true of the angels not according to what they are, which the
masters of natural reason deal with but nothing comes of it, but rather it is true of their innermost hearts,
desire, thought and understanding. For I do not know what they are but rather what their highest desire and
constant work is which one sees in their heart.
In 1584 in Wittenberg, Luther preached on "The Song of the Angels," "Glory to God in the Highest and
peace on earth, good will to men." The Rev. Joel R. Baseley translated it from the German in 2000. This is
adapted from that translation. For the complete message, go to www.flash.net/~markv01/1009s.htm.
They Are On Call... and Not Just One -- John Calvin on Angels from his Institutes of the Christian Religion,
Vol. I, Chapter 14
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This, indeed, I hold for certain, that each of us is cared for, not by one angel merely, but that all with one
consent watch for our safety. . . . It is certain that spirits have no bodily shape, and yet Scripture, in
accommodation to us, describes them under the form of winged Cherubim and Seraphim; not without cause,
to assure us that when occasion requires, they will hasten to our aid with incredible swiftness, winging their
way to us with the speed of lightening.
. . . Angels are ministering spirits (Hebrews 1:14); whose service God employs for the protection of his
people, and by whose means he distributes his favors among men, and also executes other works. [St. Paul]
appears to have had a severe contest with some who so exalted angels as to make them superiors of Christ.
Hence he so anxiously urges us in his Epistle to the Colossians (Colossians 1:16, 20) that Christ is not only
superior to all angels, but that all endowments which they possess are derived from him; thus warning us
against forsaking him, by turning to those who are not sufficient for themselves, but must draw with us at a
common fountain.
"But what are they thinking as we live in the world's arena? Do they observe us as we stand fast in the faith
and walk in righteousness? Or may they be wondering at our lack of commitment? . . .
"Our certainty that angels right now witness how we are walking through life should mightily influence the
decisions we make. God is watching, and His angels are interested spectators, too."
Why Angels?
St. Gregory of Nanzianzus (329-389) was a theologian and hymn writer. His father was a bishop. His
mother, Nonna, was a deaconess. Here is what he had to say about angels:
"Since for the goodness of God it was not sufficient to be occupied only with the contemplation of Himself,
but it was needful that good should extend further and further, so that the number of those who receive grace
might be as many as possible, therefore, God devised first of all the angelic, heavenly powers: and the
thought became deed, which was fulfilled by the Word, and perfected by the Spirit . . . . And inasmuch as
the first world was pleasing to Him, He devised another world, material and visible, the orderly composition
of heaven and earth."
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been grabbing, and when our hands are empty, He fills them full of His treasures. --Betty
Stam
So John Stam went out to investigate the situation for himself. He received conflicting reports. Taking no
chances, he arranged for Betty and the baby to be escorted away to safety if need be. But before the Stams
could make their break, the Communists were inside the city. By little-known paths, they had streamed over
the mountains behind government troops. Now gun shots sounded in the streets as looting began. The enemy
beat on the Stams' own gate.
A faithful cook and maid at the mission station had stayed behind. The Stams knelt with them in prayer. But
the invaders were pounding at the door. John opened it and spoke courteously to the four leaders who
entered, asking them if they were hungry. Betty brought them tea and cakes. The courtesy meant nothing.
They demanded all the money the Stams had, and John handed it over. As the men bound him, he pleaded
for the safety of his wife and child. The Communists left Betty and Helen behind as they led John off to their
headquarters.
Before long, they reappeared, demanding mother and child. The maid and cook pleaded to be allowed to
accompany Betty.
"It is better for you to stay here," Betty whispered. "If anything happens to us, look after the baby."
Betty was led to her husband's side. Little Helen needed some things and John was allowed to return home
under guard to fetch them. But everything had been stolen. That night John was allowed to write a letter to
mission authorities. "My wife, baby and myself are today in the hands of the Communists in the city of
Tsingteh. Their demand is twenty thousand dollars for our release. . . . We were too late. The Lord bless and
guide you. As for us, may God be glorified, whether by life or by death."
Prisoners in the local jail were released to make room for the Stams. Frightened by rifle fire, the baby cried
out. One of the Reds said, "Let's kill the baby. It is in our way." A bystander asked, "Why kill her? What
harm has she done?"
The man said he was not; he was one of the prisoners just released.
"Will you die for this foreign baby?" they asked. As Betty hugged Helen to her chest, the man was hacked to
pieces before her eyes.
"Where are you going?" asked the postmaster, who recognized them from their previous visits to his town.
"We do not know where they are going, but we are going to heaven," answered John. He left a letter with the
postmaster. "I tried to persuade them to let my wife and baby go back from Tsingteh with a letter to you, but
they would not let her. . . ."
That night the three were held in the house of a wealthy man who had fled. They were guarded by soldiers.
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John was tied to a post all that cold night, but Betty was allowed enough freedom to tend the baby. As it
turned out, she did more than that.
Execution
The next morning the young couple were led through town without the baby. Their hands were tightly
bound, and they were stripped of their outer garments as if they were common criminals. John walked
barefoot. He had given his socks to Betty. The soldiers jeered and called the town’s folk to come see the
execution. The terrified people obeyed.
On the way to the execution, a medicine-seller, considered a lukewarm Christian at best, stepped from the
crowd and pleaded for the lives of the two foreigners. The Reds angrily ordered him back. The man would
not be stilled. His house was searched, a Bible and hymnbook found, and he, too was dragged away to die as
a hated Christian.
John pleaded for the man’s life. The Red leader sharply ordered him to kneel. As John was speaking softly,
the Red leader swung his sword through the missionary’s throat so that his head was severed from his body.
Betty did not scream. She quivered and fell bound beside her husband’s body. As she knelt there, the same
sword ended her life with a single blow.
Betty
Betty Scott was born in the United States but reared in China as the daughter of missionaries. She came to
the United States and attended Wilson College in Pennsylvania. Betty prepared to follow in her parents’
footsteps and work in China or wherever else the Lord directed her.
But China it proved to be. At a prayer meeting for China, she met John Stam and a friendship developed that
ripened into love. Painfully they recognized that marriage was not yet possible. “The China Inland Mission
has appealed for men, single men, to work in sections where it would be impossible to take a woman until
more settled work has commenced,” wrote John. He committed the matter to the Lord, whose work, he felt,
must come before any human affection. At any rate, Betty would be leaving for China before him, to work
in an entirely different region, and so they must be separated anyhow. As a matter of fact, John had not yet
even been accepted by the China Inland Mission whereas Betty had. They parted after a long tender day,
sharing their faith, picnicking, talking, and praying.
Betty sailed while John continued his studies. On July 1, 1932, John, too, was accepted for service in China.
Now at least he could head toward the same continent as Betty. He sailed for Shanghai.
Meanwhile, Betty found her plans thwarted. A senior missionary had been captured by the Communists in
the region where she was to have worked. The mission directors decided to keep her in a temporary station,
and later ill-health brought her to Shanghai. Thus without any choice on her part, she was in Shanghai when
John landed in China. Immediately they became engaged and a year later were married, long before they
expected it. In October, 1934 Helen Priscilla was born to them. What would become of her now that her
parents John and Betty were dead?
Pastor Lo
In the Hills
For two days, local Christians huddled in hiding in the hills around Miaosheo. Among them was
a Chinese evangelist named Mr. Lo. Through informants, he learned that the Communists had
captured two foreigners. At first he did not realize that these were John and Betty Stam, with whom he had
worked, but as he received more details, he put two and two together. As soon as government troops entered
the valley and it was safe to venture forth, Mr. Lo hurried to town. His questions met with silence. Everyone
was fearful that spies might report anyone who said too much.
An old woman whispered to Pastor Lo that there was a baby left behind. She nodded in the direction of the
house where John and Betty had been chained their last night on earth. Pastor Lo hurried to the site and
found room after room trashed by the bandits. Then he heard a muffled cry. Tucked by her mother in a little
sleeping bag, Helen was warm and alive, although hungry after her two day fast.
The kindly pastor took the child in his arms and carried her to his wife. With the help of a local Christian
family, he wrapped the bodies that still lay upon the hillside and placed them into coffins. To the crowd that
gathered he explained that the missionaries had only come to tell them how they might find forgiveness of
sin in Christ. Leaving others to bury the dead, he hurried home. Somehow Helen had to be gotten to safety.
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Pastor Lo's own son, a boy of four, was desperately ill -- semi-conscious after days of exposure. Pastor Lo
had to find a way to carry the children a hundred miles through mountains infested by bandits and
Communists. Brave men were found willing to help bear the children to safety, but there was no money to
pay them for their efforts. Lo had been robbed of everything he had.
Eight days after the Stams fell into Communist hands, another missionary in a nearby city heard a rap at his
door. He opened it and a Chinese woman, stained with travel, entered the house, bearing a bundle in her
arms. "This is all we have left," she said brokenly.
The missionary took the bundle and turned back the blanket to uncover the sleeping face of Helen Priscilla
Stam. Many kind hands had labored to preserve the infant girl, but none kinder than Betty who had spared
no effort for her baby even as she herself faced degradation and death.
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ERIC LIDDELL: CHAMPION ATHLETE DEVOTED
TO GOD; HIS LIFE WAS MUCH MORE
THAN A RACE FOR OLYMPIC GOLD
"In many ways Liddell was the kind of person who, in my heart of
hearts, I'd always dreamed of being. . . . Few lives have more to
teach us about the virtues of honor and probity."-- Sir David
Puttnam, producer of Chariots of Fire
If you've seen the movie Chariots of Fire, you may have thrilled at Eric Liddell's stand for principle. It
almost cost him his chance at Olympic gold because the 100 meters was his best race. He dropped out of that
event, however, rather than run on Sunday.
Instead, he spoke in a Paris church on the day he might have run. The starting guns popped in the stadium
without him. Nevertheless, Eric captured an unexpected bronze in the 200 meter and worked his way
through the qualifying heats for the 400 meter. His trial times were not spectacular. It did not seem he could
beat the other fine contenders.
Defeat or victory, however, he would accept it. He had told the crowds who came to hear him speak that he
did not ever question what God chose to do. "I don’t need explanations from God. I simply believe him and
accept whatever comes my way."
The two were finally married in March, 1934. They were the happy parents of two daughters, Patricia and
Heather when the Japanese moved to gain total control of China in 1937.
Eventually, afraid that his daughters might be taken as hostages, forcing compromises on him, Eric asked
Flo to take the girls to Canada. He felt it was his duty to remain in China. By then (1941), they had a third
daughter (Maureen) on the way. They parted, hoping to meet again as soon as the Japanese conflict with
China was resolved.
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Into a Prison Camp
The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor brought the United States into the war. Japan rounded up all foreign
nationals; among them was Eric. They were held at Weihsien [way-shin] in what had formerly been a
mission school. Its heat and plumbing had been ripped out, making conditions primitive.
At Weihsien, Eric proved himself a true champion. Although he missed his family badly and was distressed
that he had never seen his third daughter, he busied himself helping others. He carried water for the sick and
elderly, arranged games, taught Bible classes and grounded youngsters in chemistry with a textbook hand-
written from memory.
Those who knew him during those bleak months said that he truly lived out Christ's Sermon on the Mount.
Because he was shy, Eric did not like to speak in public. But he did not mention this to D. P. Thomson. He
studied his feet for a couple moments, then looked up and said, "Yes."
That's how he wound up speaking for the Student Led Evangelistic Campaign. He didn't scold his listeners
for doing wrong. Instead, he spoke of his personal experiences of God's love and support.
Eric was not a great speaker, but the sincerity of his testimony made him effective. Later he told an audience
that taking up D.P's offer was the hardest decision he made in his life.
Family Matters
Eric was so fast, his daughter Patricia actually witnessed him chase down and catch a rabbit for
rabbit pie during the period of war rationing.
In order to get time with Florence, Eric stopped by his parents' home on Thursday evenings for a
meal -- which happened to be the evening she took piano lessons from his sister Jenny. No one
caught on until after they announced their engagement.
On their way to Siaochang [Shau-shong] during the Sino-Japanese war, Eric and his older brother
Rob were robbed and also held captive by bandits.
While in prison camp, Eric and a few other men read the Bible early in the morning by a lamp
fueled with peanut oil.
Eric entered Edinburgh University in 1920 and won his first College-level race in his freshman year
against the school’s finest sprinter. As he piled up victories, he began to be considered an Olympics
contender.
The pace he put himself through to get to the Olympics is amazing. In the Spring of 1924, in
addition to training three times a week for the Olympics, he attended classes, completed a gruelling
round of final exams, led a young people’s group at Morningside Congregational Church, and spoke
at meetings. He also competed in the Pennsylvania University relays.
In the six weeks before the Summer games, he ran in eight track meets.
The competitive spirit that sustained him in these heroic efforts showed itself long before the
Olympics, of course. Before flying tackles were made illegal in Rugby Football, he broke his
collarbone twice making such plays.
His competitive spirit did not end when he won the Olympic gold. In his final college races, two
years after Paris, he took a triple triumph, winning the 100, 200 and 400 meters. Classmates pulled
him in triumph through the streets in a carriage when he left Edinburgh for China.
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Eric was not favored at all in the 400 meter sprint at the 1924 Paris Olympics. In fact, his victory
was considered a stunning upset.
Going into that race, the record for the 400 meters was 48.2 seconds. In a qualifying heat on July
10th, the day before the big race, J. Imbach of Switzerland set a new record of 48 seconds flat. In the
semi-final run on Friday morning, July 11th, Horatio M. Fitch of Chicago broke the record again,
bringing the time down to 47.8 seconds.
Everyone expected the 400-meter race to be a battle between Imbach and Fitch. Shortly after the gun
fired, however, Eric took a lead that he never relinquished. When he broke the tape at 47.6 seconds,
the Olympic record for the 400 meters had been shattered three times in twenty-four hours.
Fitch finished a strong second to Eric, but Imbach did not place, having tripped on a lane rope and
fallen to the track.
Born into wealth around 200, Cyprian inherited a large estate. Like Augustine, another North African of
fame, he trained in rhetoric. Curiously it was this training which brought him to Christ. Genuinely gifted as a
speaker, he opened his own school of rhetoric. As part of the course he debated philosophers and Christians.
Convinced by the arguments of Coecilius, a Christian elder, he became a convert when he was about 45
years old. Immediately he applied for admission to the church, was baptized, and soon after ordained to
ministry. "A second birth created me a new man by means of the Spirit breathed from heaven," he wrote.
With zeal, he gave away his wealth and devoted himself to poverty, celibacy and Bible studies.
Pontius, one of his clergy, wrote an admiring biography telling how his
countenance was joyous, and that he was a man to be both revered and loved.
But well might Cyprian protest his election! His task was never easy. Many older men felt slighted by his
swift ascendancy and begrudged him his office. Among the clergy were others who neglected their duties.
Cyprian disciplined them, and this increased resentment against him. In 250, the persecution by Emperor
Decian broke out. Cyprian as a church leader became a marked man. The pagans shouted, "Cyprian to the
lions!" But the bishop managed to escape into hiding. His presence in Carthage would intensify persecution,
he explained. Writing letters, he tried to hold the church together in his absence. This was not easy, for the
Christians who had stayed and endured suffering looked down on Cyprian. In 251 Gallus became emperor
and Cyprian returned to his church.
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Those who had stood firm under suffering called themselves "the confessors." They gained great prestige
from this. Others had renounced their faith. These were called the "lapsed." The confessors opposed Cyprian
over readmitting the lapsed to the church, saying that a claim of repentance should be the sole condition of
restoration. Cyprian insisted on stricter terms. Eventually a council of bishops decided that the lapsed would
be readmitted if they repented. Those who had obtained certificates saying they had sacrificed (without
actually doing so) would also be accepted if certain conditions were met. All would have to appear in church
in sackcloth and ashes. Lapsed clergy would be readmitted only on the point of death. The "confessors"
broke away to form their own church. Cyprian's enemies elected a rival bishop, Cecilianus by name.
Cyprian was willing to accept the relapsed but not those who had been baptized by one of the splinter groups
(such as the Novitians) unless they were rebaptized. He argued that there was only one spirit and one church
and "how can he who lacks the Spirit confer the Spirit's gifts?" The Roman bishop Stephen ordered him to
accept the baptism of splinter groups so long as it was done in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Cyprian protested but obeyed under threat of excommunication. A council at Arles and the famous Nicean
Council later upheld Stephen's decision.
These controversies brought forth from Cyprian his most influential book, Unity of the Church. In it he
argued that the church is not the community of those who are already saved. Instead, it is an ark of salvation
for all men, a school for sinners. Today many Protestants accept this teaching but refuse to accept Cyprian's
other claim that the bishops of the church, as the heirs of the apostles, are the agents through whom God
dispenses grace.
Cyprian was concerned to know who can speak for the church. Without the bishops there is no church, he
taught; and outside the church there is no salvation. His cryptic and memorable assertion was, "He who has
not the church for his mother, has not God for his Father." Protestants argue that where two or three are
gathered in Christ's name, Christ is with them; and they clinch their case with Peter's words which describe
every Christian as a priest (1 Peter 2:9). Cyprian's book has long been used by the Roman Catholic church to
buttress its position on the role of the clergy and apostolic succession.
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What Unity Meant to Cyprian
Can one who does not keep the unity of the Church believe that he keeps the faith? Can one
who resists and struggles against the Church be sure that he is in the Church? For the
blessed apostle Paul gives the same teaching and declares the same mystery of unity when
he says, “There is one body and one Spirit, one Hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith,
one baptism, one God.” It is particularly incumbent upon those of us who preside over the
church as bishops to uphold this unity firmly and to be its champions, so that we may prove
the episcopate also to be itself one and undivided. Let no one deceive the brotherhood with
lies or corrupt the true faith with faithless treachery. The episcopate is a single whole, in
which each bishop’s share gives him a right to, and a responsibility for, the whole. So is the
Church a single whole though she spreads far and wide into a multitude of churches as her
fertility increases. . . . If you leave the church of Christ you will not come to Christ’s
rewards; you will be an alien, an outcast, an enemy. You cannot have God for your father
unless you have the Church for your mother. If you could escape outside Noah’s ark, you
could escape outside the Church. . . . From The Library of Christian Classics, Westminster
Press, 1956.
Cyprian's writings show that while he respected the special position of the bishop of Rome, he did not accept
his primacy.
"The Lord says to Peter, 'I say unto thee that thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build
my church. . . .' He builds the church upon one man. True, after the resurrection he assigned
the like power to all the apostles, saying, 'As the Father hath sent me, even so send I you.
Whatever sins ye remit, they shall be remitted unto him; whatsoever ye retain they shall be
retained.' . . . the rest of the apostles were exactly what Peter was; they were endowed with
an equal share of office and power. . . ."
Fascinating Facts
Cyprian most often followed the theology of fellow North African church father Tertullian, whom
he called simply "the master."
Putting into practice his theories on the role of the clergy, Cyprian called seven councils of African
bishops in Carthage in his ten years as Bishop.
Heavily quoted from the earliest days, Cyprian is considered one of the Fathers of the Church. He
was one of the few given a feast day in the early calendar, the Chronographer of 354. His work was
used to refute Nestorianism.
Arguing for change, Cyprian uttered one of his most quotable quotes. "Custom is often only the
antiquity of error."
Another repeatable quote from Cyprian's writing: "The word of God was led, wordless, to the
cross."
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THEY STOOD TALL FOR CHRIST
John Wesley spent just two years in the American colonies, and he had a pretty dismal
time of it. Yet that trip led to major changes in Wesley's life, and his work in turn did
much to shape the religious climate in America.
Standing just 5-foot-3, John Wesley had a huge impact on the America colonies, even
though his only visit was a huge disappointment.
When he boarded an ocean-going ship in 1735, bound for Georgia, John Wesley was
already a very religious man. Son of an Anglican minister, he had studied at Oxford, where he co-founded
The Holy Club, a group of students who aimed to be methodical about their personal holiness. Within this
group were Charles Wesley (John's hymn-writing brother) and a young preacher named George Whitefield.
Their methodical approach is what caused them to be called "Methodists."
Despite his striving for righteousness, John Wesley was missing something. Before his American voyage, he
wrote: "My chief motive is the hope of saving my own soul. I hope to learn the true sense of the Gospel of
Christ by preaching it to the heathen."
The colony of Georgia was quite new. James Oglethorpe led a group of settlers there in 1733, intending to
establish it as a non-slavery colony. John Wesley was asked to serve there as a minister to the English
settlers and a missionary to the friendly native tribes in the area.
"Weren't you afraid?" he asked one of the Moravians after the storm was over. "Weren't your women and
children afraid?"
The Moravian gently responded, "No. Our women and children are not afraid to die."
After the ship landed, Wesley continued similar conversations with a Moravian pastor named Spangenberg,
who launched some challenging questions of his own. "Have you the witness within yourself?" the pastor
asked John. "Does the Spirit of God witness with your spirit that you are a child of God?" Wesley didn't
know what to say. "Do you know Jesus Christ?" the pastor pressed. "I know he is the Savior of the world."
"True," the Moravian responded, "but do you know he has saved you?"
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John Wesley was clearly a very religious man. He had not only trained for the ministry, but he formed a club
devoted to finding new levels of righteousness. He was not only an Anglican minister, but a missionary,
traveling across an ocean to spread the Christian faith. But what was this Christian faith he was spreading?
Was it merely a matter of seeking righteousness? Or was there more? What was it that gave those Moravians
such confidence in the face of death? How could they sing joyfully when others were shrinking with fear?
Whatever they had, John Wesley feared he didnÕt have it.
Yet he powerfully preached a message of spiritual discipline, railing against vanity and fancy clothes.
Initially, many colonists responded out of curiosity more than anything else. Someone said to Wesley, "The
people say they are Protestants, but as for you, they cannot tell what religion you are of. They never heard of
such a religion before, and they do not know what to make of it." John began holding a sort of Bible study
group on Sunday afternoons, a feature he would later use in England with great effect, but in general
Wesley's Georgia ministry was difficult. He fell in love with Sophia Hopkey, the niece of the chief
magistrate, and courted her for some months. Perhaps fearing that this relationship would inhibit his
ministry, he decided not to marry her, and she soon wed someone else. This caused Wesley great pain, and
he took it out on her, publicly rebuking her for various sins and refusing to offer her communion. Her new
husband took Wesley to court for this, and soon others were filing complaints as well. In December, 1737,
he left for England.
George Whitefield--he credited Wesley with laying the foundation for him in
America.
In many ways, Whitefield picked up where Wesley had left off. He was just as interested
in a thoroughgoing righteousness, but he offered an added ingredient--spiritual rebirth.
Wesley's message was heavy on law, Whitefield's on grace. "Ye must be born again," was Whitefield's key
verse, and people gladly grasped the spiritual regeneration that would help them meet Wesley's challenges.
Later, Whitefield declared, "The good Mr. John Wesley has done in America is inexpressible. His name is
very precious among the people; and he has laid a foundation that I hope neither men nor devils will ever be
able to shake." Perhaps Whitefield was being kind to his friend, but Wesley might have been the
schoolmaster that led people to Whitefield, and, of course, ultimately to Jesus.
Wesley saw his American adventure as an utter failure. "I went to America to convert the Indians," he wrote
later, "but, O! who shall convert me?"
John kept in touch with some of the Moravians he had met on his trip to America. At their invitation, on
May 24, 1738, he attended a religious meeting on Aldersgate Street in London and heard someone read from
Martin Luther's Commentary on the Book of Romans. He felt his heart "strangely warmed." Suddenly he
knew that Jesus had saved him from the law of sin and death. "It pleased God," he wrote later, "to kindle a
fire which I trust shall never be extinguished."
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Whitefield's 1739-40 trip turned out to be America's wakeup call. Landing in Delaware, he traveled north to
Massachusetts and even Maine, and back south to Georgia, getting enormous response wherever he
preached. Ben Franklin quipped, "From being thoughtless or indifferent about religion, it seem'd as if all the
world were growing religious, so that one could not walk thro' the town in an evening without hearing
psalms sung in different families of every street."
It would be hard to overstate the importance of the Great Awakening on American history. It certainly
created a spiritual undercurrent for the political developments of the 1700s. Did it help knit together the
religiously diverse colonies? Did it provide the spark needed to break out of old constraints (religious and
political) and move in some new directions? Certainly the Great Awakening was not just a Methodist event,
but the seeds were planted back in those Holy Club meetings at Oxford, as Whitefield chatted with the
Wesleys and other college pals.
Meanwhile, the evangelical awakening continued in England, under John Wesley's leadership. Response to
the preaching in Bristol and elsewhere created a challenge for Wesley and the other Methodists. What do
you do with all the newly converted? You start fellowship groups, accountability groups, Bible study
groups, and you train the new converts in the ways of righteousness. With his great gift for organization,
John Wesley soon set up Methodist societies throughout Great Britain, which included "classes" like his old
Sunday afternoon Bible group. For decades the Wesleyan movement grew within the Church of England.
But the Anglican church already had been slow to send new ministers to the colonies, and the growing
tensions with America made things worse. Yet the Great Awakening had created a huge need for leadership,
which Wesley was determined to meet. In 1784, a year after the United States won its independence, Wesley
began to ordain "elders" to lead the American Methodists.
The Methodist church then exploded across the American continent in much the same way that it had swept
through England and Scotland. The traditions of open-air services and circuit-riding preachers fit perfectly
with the American frontier. The Methodists weren't chained to church buildings or old forms. It was a new
faith for a new nation. And it didn't hurt that Francis Asbury, the first Methodist bishop ordained in
America, had been an outspoken supporter of the American Revolution. In Kentucky and pushing westward,
"camp meetings" became all the rage. Settlers would gather from miles around to sing and pray and hear
some circuit-rider (usually a Methodist) preach the Word--thus developed a uniquely American form of
worship. By 1830, Methodists formed the largest denomination in the U.S.
John Wesley died in 1791, possibly the most important Englishman of the eighteenth century. Through the
extended influence of people like Whitefield and Asbury, he was exceptionally important to America as
well.
Such questions were debated by the scholastics, the theologians of the Middle Ages.
Thomas Aquinas (c. 1225-1274) was the leading church scholar of the Middle Ages, writing
extensively on theology and church teaching.
While today we might laugh at such questions, we also can appreciate a certain aspect of their
thinking--they took Truth seriously, and they wanted to know every detail about God and his
creation. The greatest of all the Scholastic theologians was Thomas Aquinas.
Thomas was born about 1225 into a dynamic age--the age of chivalry, the Crusades, and Marco Polo. Towns
were competing with one another to build taller and more glorious Gothic cathedrals. As the younger son of
the Count of Aquino, near Naples, Italy, Thomas was also born into a well-connected family, related to the
Holy Roman Emperor Frederick and descended from the famous crusader Tancred.
Yet Thomas lived largely apart from the attractions of this medieval world, focusing instead on affairs of the
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mind. When he was five, his parents sent him to the prestigious monastic school at Monte Cassino. As his
family saw it, Thomas could use his religious education to obtain a lucrative and influential position as an
abbot or even archbishop. But this young man had other ideas. While studying at the University of Naples,
Italy, Thomas chose to enter the Dominican order, taking a vow of poverty. His parents were outraged when
they found out. Being religious was one thing, but being poor, that just wouldn't do. They quickly attempted
some damage control.
When his dad got the Pope to offer him the archbishopric of Naples, Thomas wouldn't take it. How about
being abbot of the affluent monastery at Monte Cassino? No, Thomas wasn't budging. In fact, he reaffirmed
his vows and set out to study with the Dominicans in Paris.
He never got there. His family had him kidnapped along the way, and they imprisoned him in the tower of a
castle for seventeen months. Think of it as a kind of cult deprogramming. Thomas' brothers even hired a
prostitute to seduce him. When she entered his room, he knew he had better not leave any room for
temptation, so he quickly grabbed a firebrand from the hearth and chased her out. Then he branded the sign
of the cross in the door.
As the story goes, his mother was moved by Thomas' determination, and she eventually helped him escape
out the window.
The Ox Brays
He went on to study in Paris and Cologne, where he became the pupil and friend of Albertus Magnus, a
renowned German theologian. Since Thomas was a big, quiet man, he gained the nickname of "Dumb Ox."
But, recognizing the genius inside, Albertus quipped, "This is an ox whose braying all Europe will hear."
After completing his formal studies, Thomas spent the rest of his life teaching theology in Paris and various
papal centers in Italy. During the high Middle Ages, all education was in the hands of the church. The
schoolmen, or teachers at the medieval schools, tried to systematize the teachings of Scripture and church
writers. The great minds of the age, Anselm, Peter Lombard, Hugh of St. Victor, and Duns Scotus, all set
their hand to bring some logical order to the first millennium of Christian thought. Aquinas became the
greatest of these systematizers. His mentor was right: the "braying" of this plodding scholar reached
throughout Europe and beyond. Some have described Aquinas' thought as a lake with many streams flowing
into it and many drawing from it, but not a water source itself. It might be true that there was little originality
in his work, but Aquinas organized medieval thinking better than anyone else did.
With the strong Muslim presence in Spain and North Africa, as well as the Middle East, Aquinas was
concerned about the spread of Christianity. In addition, works by the Muslim writer Averroes, Jewish
teacher Maimonides, and the classical Greek philosopher Aristotle had recently been translated into Latin
and were being read by European scholars. How should Christians deal with these non-Christian teachings?
In response, Aquinas wrote a Manual Against the Heathen as a missionary tool to use with both Muslims
and Jews. In the first three sections, Thomas used logic and reason to prove the existence of God, his
character, the creation of the world, and his providence. Only in the last part did he turn to Scripture to
establish the Trinity and explain the Incarnation of Christ.
Of course Thomas' masterpiece is Summa Theologica, a work in three books on God, humanity, and the
Redeemer. While the Gothic cathedrals were massive structures of stone and stained glass built for God's
glory, the Summa was a massive logical structure assembled to help understand the mind of God. Thomas
followed a basic method: first asking a question (such as "Is God a body?"); then listing a series of articles
with positive answers (Scripture speaks of God's hand or eyes, we are made in God's image); then listing a
series of articles with negative answers (God is a Spirit); and finally giving his answer to the question,
addressing both the positive and negative articles. With 518 questions and 2,652 articles, the Summa is an
amazing compilation of medieval thought on theological issues--but this masterpiece was never completed.
One morning while at worship, Thomas had a vision. So overwhelming was this experience of God that he
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never wrote again. He explained that, compared to what had been revealed to him, all that he had written
was "straw." The next year, on March 7, 1274, Thomas died at the Cistercian Abbey of Fossanuova.
In 1323 Thomas was canonized (proclaimed a saint) by Pope John XXII, and in 1567 he was recognized as a
"doctor of the church." In fact, he became known as the "Angelic Doctor." In 1879, as the Church faced the
skepticism of the nineteenth century, Pope Leo XIII commended Aquinas as the safest guide in Christian
thought. Aquinas' reconciliation of faith and reason continued to influence church teaching, even into
modern times.
Thomas used his gift of rational argument to serve his church. Non-Catholics can applaud his reasoning on
basic doctrines like the Trinity and the Incarnation, while they may still quibble with his stance on other
issues. Thomas supported the medieval Catholic doctrines on the sacraments, indulgences, purgatory, and
transubstantiation (the teaching that communion bread and wine are transformed into the body and blood of
Christ), but papal infallibility and the immaculate conception of Mary weren't yet church dogma. His
writings were used extensively at the Council of Trent, which formulated Catholic teachings in opposition to
the teachings of the Protestant Reformation. In light of all that, it's no wonder that Martin Luther called
Thomas' Summa Theologica "the fountain and original soup of all heresy, error, and Gospel havoc." But
modern evangelical Norman Geisler expresses the appreciation of many modern Protestant scholars:
"Aquinas . . . has helped me to be a better evangelical, a better servant of Christ, and to better defend the
faith" (Christian History, Issue 73).
All told, this "dumb ox" pulled Christianity along an important path. Though wrapped in medieval garb,
many of the questions with which Thomas struggled continue to face our own generation. Forget about
angels dancing on pins. The crucial questions in Thomas' age and ours are the following: What is the
relation of reason and revelation? How does the scientific observation of nature fit with our faith? Since
Jesus said he is the Truth, how are all other truths related to Him? Sure, sometimes Thomas'
arguments rely more on Aristotelian logic than Scripture, and you
might disagree with a number of his conclusions, but Thomas led
the way in the integration of Christian faith and rational thought. In
our day of secularism and materialism, we need all the Christian
thinking we can get.
1. From motion:
Motion presupposes an original mover. Whatever is changed or moved
must be changed or moved by something else, but an infinite chain of
movers would be impossible. Without a "first mover" there would be no
movement.
2. From causation:
In nature there are many cause-effect relationships. Tracing back the cause
of each effect must bring one to a First Cause.
3. From contingency:
In nature things are created and destroyed. If all that exists could possibly not exist, then at some point in
time past nothing could exist at all. However, somewhere there must be a being whose existence is not
only possible but necessary. The conditional demands that which is absolute.
4. From degree:
That which is imperfect implies that which is perfect for a standard.
5. From design:
Even unthinking things tend to follow certain patterns and ends, but this is impossible without intelligent
design. Objects and events appear to be controlled by an overruling design, like an arrow shot by an
archer. Some intelligence must exist which draws all things to their goal and purpose.
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ERASMUS; THE WIT THAT STIRRED
THE REFORMATION
Who was the most important figure in the Protestant Reformation? Luther? Calvin?
Tyndale? If you could ask those leaders themselves, they might point you to a Dutch
scholar named Erasmus, who wasn't even a Protestant. This monk-turned-writer focused
his sarcastic gaze on the corrupt excesses of the late Medieval church. He challenged
Christians to get back to the first-century faith. He produced new versions of the New
Testament in the hopes that everyone would be able to read it. Erasmus never left the
Roman Catholic Church, but the Reformation might never have happened without him.
New ideas swirled through Europe in the early 1500s. The intrepid wit of Erasmus paved the way for many,
like Luther, to attack church practices. But Luther himself didn't escape the scholar's critique. When monks
accused him of "laying the egg that Luther hatched," Erasmus replied that he had expected "quite another
kind of bird." A man of moderation, Erasmus, hoping to see change from within, stayed with the church that
had nurtured him.
Born Geert Geertsen in Rotterdam, Netherlands, Erasmus studied with a loosely structured group of church
scholars known as the Brethren of the Common Life. He joined the Augustinian order and was ordained a
priest at age 23. But monastic life didn't suit him, and after three years he left the monastery to study in
Paris. Later he traveled extensively through France, Belgium, and England. Erasmus spent profitable time at
both Cambridge and Oxford, staying in the home of the Lord Chancellor, Sir Thomas More (the subject of
the classic film A Man for All Seasons), who became a great friend. "It was he [More] who pushed me to
write The Praise of Folly," Erasmus said of his best-known literary work.
The Praise of Folly comically critiqued various abuses in the world and in the church. It found an
enthusiastic audience among those who were similarly concerned about church excesses. Some of these
became Reformers; others sought to influence the Church from within. Erasmus made some enemies with
his writing, but the satire painted with such a broad brush, and with such clever wit, that the effect was not
mean-spirited. Many were led to laugh at themselves.
Eventually settling in Basel, Switzerland, Erasmus continued his scholarship and social commentary. While
he advocated the study of ancient pre-Christian writers, he disapproved of those who studied only those
classics and ignored Christian traditions. He regularly cited the New Testament in his writings. If only
Christians could get back to that level of simplicity, he felt, the church would be better off. Though he read
Luther and admired his early works, he could not go along with Luther on doctrinal changes. But Erasmus
could be bitterly satirical about the monastic life of his times and longed to see the correction of abuses in
church discipline, the removal of popular forms of devotion that bordered on superstition, and a more open
approach to intellectual studies. But that was as far as he would go.
An especially sensitive issue was the doctrine of the Eucharist. He wrote; "I agree . . . that it would be
simpler to say that Christ is present in the Sacrament and leave the matter to God," but he added, "The
Christian, lest he fall into a labyrinth, should not depart from the authority of the councils and the consensus
of all the churches throughout the ages."
In Other Words
Another major contribution of this multi-faceted churchman was his translation of
the New Testament. The church had been using Jerome's Latin translation, the
Vulgate, for a millennium. Though he was quite a fan of Jerome, Erasmus felt there
was room for improvement. In the interest of recovering the spirit of the first-
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century church, he sought the best Greek manuscripts available to produce a state-of-the-art Greek text and
then translated this into Latin.
This was typical of the moderation of this thinker. It was still a Latin translation, and so it would be read
mostly by scholars and priests, but it was a clear improvement on the creaky Jerome text, stylistically
elegant and truer to the original Greek.
The new translation was published in 1516 by printer John Froben, and Erasmus shrewdly dedicated the
work to Pope Leo X. The pope's approval appeared in 1518.
Luther loved the new version, as did other Reformers. In it, some found the inspiration to work on other
translations into their own languages. And Erasmus' work on the Greek text became the basis of the great
textus receptus, used for the King James Bible of 1611.
In the preface to his new version of the Scriptures, Erasmus wrote, Would that these were translated into
each and every language so that they might be read and understood not only by Scots and Irishmen but by
Turks and Saracens. . . . Would that the farmer might sing snatches of Scripture at his plough and that the
weaver might hum phrases of Scripture to the tune of his shuttle, that the traveler might lighten with stories
from Scripture the weariness of his journey.
Martin Luther and Erasmus were two significant pillars of the Reformation and among the most important
men in Europe in the early 1500s. They shared many concerns about the Church but differed on numerous
issues as well. Though they never met, their correspondence with others shows they held strong opinions
about each other.
Erasmus on Luther: Luther is so great that I shall not write against him. . . . I have taught well nigh all
that Luther teaches, only less violently, without so many enigmas and paradoxes . . . . I hope that all the
tumult Luther has stirred up will, like a drastic medicine, somehow bring about the health of the Church.
Luther wasn't quite as complimentary in return. He was disappointed in what he saw as Erasmus' stopping
short of full, needed reform. Luther wrote to fellow reformer Ulrich Zwingli, "[Erasmus] might have been
of great service to the evangel, often he was exhorted to this end--he is the worst foe of Christ that has
arisen in the last thousand years."
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In the following years severe rheumatism and general ill health placed an extra strain on Erasmus as well as the death
of his friend and publisher John Froben. Always a moderate, he still had no desire to get involved in the religious
upheaval of the times. Taking the papal throne in 1534, Paul III was eager to enlist the assistance of Erasmus for a
Council he was planning to summon (Trent), but Erasmus no longer had the strength for such a task. He wrote to
Cardinal Cajetan, "What I place above all things is that which leads to the peace of the Church, rather than to my own
honor."
Erasmus died at Basel around midnight of July 11th or 12th, 1536. Reportedly, his last words were in Dutch: "Lieuer
Gott" [Dear God].
This author-translator was called by Luther scholar Roland Bainton "the fusion of the Christian man and the cultivated
man." The world loved him, but he was not taken in by it. "I desire nothing," Erasmus wrote, "except to secure leisure
to live wholly to one God, to repent of the sins of my indiscreet youth, to pore over the Holy Scriptures, either to read
or write something."
Erasmus was buried in the Cathedral of Basel, and his tomb is now visited by tourists. Today he is hailed more by
Protestants than by his fellow Catholics, often considered the intellectual father of the Reformation. Some of Erasmus'
was abolished in
works were on the Church's Index of Prohibited Books for many years. The Index
1966, one of the changes brought about by Vatican II, a decision
which would have earned Erasmus' enthusiastic approval.
This work exposed the vanity of every facet of life, from art and philosophy to the church itself. Erasmus
mocked the scholars who determined that "it's a lesser crime to kill a thousand men than to set a stitch on a
poor man's shoe on the Sabbath day," adding that "these most subtle subtleties are rendered even more
subtle by the various methods of so many Schoolmen, that one might sooner wind his way out of a
labyrinth than out of their entanglements."
Erasmus didn't even let bishops and popes off the hook, but sarcastically called them back to the example
of Christ. To work miracles, he wrote, is old and antiquated, and not in fashion now; to instruct the people,
troublesome; to interpret the Scripture, pedantic; to pray, a sign that one has little else to do; to shed tears,
silly and womanish; to be poor, base; to be vanquished, dishonorable and unbecoming to one who scarcely
allows even kings to kiss his slipper; and lastly, to die, uncouth; and to be stretched on a cross, infamous.
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MARY LYON'S VISION FOR CHRISTIAN WOMEN:
OPENING COLLEGE DOORS FOR
FEMALES
It was a novel idea: educating women. But times were changing. It was the nineteenth
century already, an age of growth for the young United States of America. After the War of
1812--Britain's failed attempt to undo the American Revolution--it was pretty clear that the
USA was here to stay. Commerce and industry were developing, and the country was
expanding westward. Many realized that America needed an educated citizenry in order to
attain its lofty dreams and measure up to its potential. Some, like Mary Lyon, dared to think
that this education should include females.
Mary Lyon
Nowadays, educational opportunities abound for women. College enrollment in the U.S. is roughly equal for
males and females. But that wasn't always the case. Women couldn't vote until the early 1900s. Decades
before the Industrial Revolution, most households at that time were mini-corporations--with women
functioning as Chief Operating Officers--but it was rare to see a woman working outside the home, at least
in any respectable position, besides schoolteaching.
Mary Lyon was born in 1797 in western Massachusetts, the sixth of eight children. Her parents, strong
Christians, traced their lineage back to the earliest days of the colony, but they were struggling to make a
living from the land. Life got even tougher for the family: Mary’s father died when she was six. Mary grew
up learning the skills necessary for a girl of her day--spinning, weaving, sewing, as well as helping on the
farm--but she also had a thirst for learning. In her teens she began teaching, saving her money to be able to
continue her own studies in the various academies and schools of the region (at age 20 she earned 75¢ a
week plus board). As she worked and pursued her studies, often she would have only four hours of sleep a
day.
A minister named Joseph Emerson ran a school in the town of Byfield, which turned out to be a key
influence on Lyon's life. Emerson actually "talked to ladies as if they had brains," she said later. He
encouraged Mary to begin a school of her own, specifically for women. As her plans developed, Mary aimed
to provide a school affordable for common folks. Perhaps the students themselves could do much of the
domestic work at the school, thus cutting costs.
Even more than serving women, though, Mary Lyon devoted herself to serving Christ. She wanted her
pupils to become active Christians, with a missionary spirit and a dedication to God in whatever task He
would lead them into.
With money raised from interested Christians, Lyon finally realized her dream. Mount Holyoke Female
Seminary opened in South Hadley, Massachusetts, in 1836. (The founder specifically insisted the school not
be named after her, so it took the name of a nearby peak.) Its motto--"That our daughters may be as
cornerstones, polished after the similitude of a palace" (Psalm 144:12). It was the first college in America
specifically for women.
To that end, she put great emphasis on the development of the spiritual life of the students. Mary Lyon and
her teachers actively prayed for the conversion of each of the students, and periods of revival were seen as
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definite answers to prayer. Twice a day, half-hour periods were set aside for the students to have a private
time of prayer and meditation. Teachers went from room to room visiting, conversing, and praying with the
students. Special prayer meetings were held, as were regular and special fast days. The first Monday in
January was set aside to pray for the conversion of the world. On the last Thursday in February, they prayed
for revival in colleges and religious institutions. A half hour each Saturday was spent studying the activities
of various missionary agencies, and missionary leaders were brought in to address the students.
Quaint Fact
The practice of awarding honorary degrees began in 1692. Harvard bestowed a doctorate on Rev. Increase
Mather before he went to England on a fund raising trip. Harvard thought the title would make Mather's
trip more successful!
Plain Talking
Mount Holyoke student, Eliza Hubbell, who attended from 1840-1844, took these notes from Mary's
teaching:
Religion is fitted to make us better in every situation in life. Our common duties will be more
perfectly discharged if we are under the control of the Holy Spirit's influence.
She inculcated the duty of committing Scripture to memory and of having a plan for self-teaching in
regard to it.
Character is made up of little things, and it is greatly important that we know ourselves in little
things. Avoid trifling, volatility, anything which will lessen self-respect if you would retain the
respect of others. See how the Bible regards small things: Eve, Achan, etc.
She did not wish us to be like soap stone which crumbles as it is rubbed, but like gold which
shines brighter, the more it is used.
Of course Mary Lyon wasn't the only Christian pushing education. Some of the most prestigious
universities in the U.S. were founded with the expressed purpose of training Christians for ministry.
Harvard
Harvard was a school built around a library. Rev. John Harvard always wanted to encourage literacy, both
in general learning and in the Scriptures. So when he died in 1638, his will designated half his estate,
including about 400 books, for the starting of a new educational enterprise. Just two years earlier, the
Massachusetts colonists had voted to start a college with their own taxes, but nothing much had happened
until Rev. Harvard's legacy was received.
The Rules and Precepts set forth at the college's founding echoed the late minister's concerns. Let every
Student be plainly instructed and earnestly pressed to consider well the main end of the scholar’s life and
studies is to know God and Jesus Christ which is eternal life, John 17:3, and, therefore, to lay Christ in
the bottom as the only foundation of all sound knowledge and learning.
In the first 100 years, all members of the Harvard faculty were ministers. And during its first 60 years,
more than one half of its alumni would become ministers.
Yale
In 1701, the colonists of Connecticut established Yale College. Its founding parallels that of Harvard in
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many respects. Strong emphasis was placed on fervent prayer as a means of receiving wisdom from God
and biblical study for understanding God’s will. During its first twelve years, almost three-fourths of
Yale's graduates entered ministerial service.
Princeton
With revival stirring spirits throughout America in the 1730s and 1740s, the need for new church leaders
was never greater. Concerned about a drift toward Arminian theology, several ministers in Pennsylvania
and New Jersey joined in 1730 to begin the Log College. The first president, Jonathan Dickinson, a
Presbyterian pastor and Yale graduate, began official instruction of several students in his own log cabin
home in Elizabethtown, NJ. A key figure in this school's founding was William Tennent, a noted preacher
in the Great Awakening and a confidant of George Whitefield. Several Log College leaders then were
involved in the development of the College of New Jersey, chartered in 1746. This school later became
known as Princeton.
While the new college expanded its focus beyond just training for ministry, the Christian emphasis was
still strong. Reports indicate that, in those early decades, the college faculty and staff became intimately
involved in the students' spiritual lives by inquiring of them directly, praying for them regularly, and
biblical preaching. As a result, about 47% of Princeton's first 21 graduating classes became involved in
Christian service as a vocation (158 students).
Brown
While Harvard and Yale had Puritan roots and Princeton reflected Presbyterian perspectives, Brown
would become the first Baptist institution in America, begun in 1762 by James Manning, an alumnus of
Princeton. He would gather many other Baptists--along with a few from other denominations--to jump
start this school.
A charter was passed that provided that a majority of the trustees and fellows would be "forever Baptists."
This stipulation did not include the students, teachers, or other officers, although the president had to be
Baptist.
Tricentennial celebration: Jonathan Edwards was born October 5, 1703. This year
marks the 300th birthday of this influential preacher.
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They were confronting their friends and neighbors with the need to get right with God. They claimed the
Spirit of God was filling them, controlling them, inspiring them--but it all seemed far too, well, emotional
for the fine folks of Massachusetts.
The Great Awakening might have remained an oddity, on the fringes of the American experience, if it
weren't for a pastor named Jonathan Edwards. This scholar's openness and keen analysis made sense of this
movement of the Spirit, and as a result, even more lives were changed. In the process, an emerging nation
found its soul.
The year was 1740, and colonists from Savannah to Boston were enthralled by the gifted preaching of
George Whitefield, an English cleric making his way through America on horseback. Many churches turned
him away, fearing his theatricality and emotionalism. That just sent Whitefield out to the fields and streets,
where even more people could hear him. It was estimated that 25,000 flocked to one open-air service to hear
him preach. (Ben Franklin doubted that statistic, but one day he tested it out on the streets of Philadelphia.
As Whitefield preached from the courthouse steps, Franklin could hear him a block away. Calculating the
distance and the amount of space each person would require, he concluded that up to 30,000 could hear this
orator at one time.)
If that many people are spiritually aroused about something, there must be something wrong with it. That
was the opinion of many critics. To be sure, Whitefield was a curiosity, and a showman to some extent. But
Whitefield's script was pure gospel: "You must be born again." He said this to church members, convinced
that churches were packed with "Christians" who had really never met God. Whitefield brought people the
same message that had been delivered by Luther and Wycliffe and Francis and Jesus himself: God wants to
know you; he wants to change your life. This has always been viewed as dangerous information by those
with vested interests. If Christianity equals respectability, then the appeal to common folks is scandalous--
and their unfettered emotional response is even worse.
Jonathan Edwards knew better. He was as respectable as one could get, well-bred and well-trained. Son of a
minister, grandson of another, he attended Yale Divinity School (even before it was called that) and
succeeded his famous grandfather as pastor of the Congregational Church in Northampton, Massachusetts.
Edwards preached brilliantly. His fertile mind studied philosophy and science as well as theology. Some
have claimed he was possibly the smartest man ever in America.
Edwards displayed a psychologist's skill in evaluating the process of conversion. "Some are more suddenly
seized with convictions," he wrote. “Their consciences are smitten, as if their hearts were pierced through
with a dart. Others are awakened more gradually, they begin at first to be something more thoughtful and
considerate. . . . Others who before had been somewhat religious, and concerned for their salvation, have
been awakened in a new manner; and [realized] that their slack and dull way of seeking was never like[ly] to
attain that purpose.”
So in 1740-43, when Whitefield’s preaching stirred emotional outbursts in his hearers, and many church
leaders viewed the physical and vocal excesses with suspicion, Edwards kept his focus on the internal
realities. Are these people truly converted? Is the Spirit working here? In A Treatise Concerning Religious
Affections, he offered a remarkably even-handed critique of the new movement and its emotional displays,
which he called "high affections."
Some are ready to condemn all high affections: if persons appear to have their religious affections raised to
an extraordinary pitch, they are prejudiced against them, and determine that they are delusions, without
further inquiry. But if . . . true religion in the hearts of men be raised to a great height, divine and holy
affections will be raised to a great height. Edwards went on to survey the biblical history of emotion. His
point--true conversion should have emotional displays. This might not be what you'd expect from a Calvinist
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cleric, but maybe it should be. We shouldn't be telling the Spirit which methods He can and cannot use,
Edwards cautioned. God can work any way He wants.
Edwards went on to warn that emotional displays are not necessarily the work of the Spirit, and that the
Devil can counterfeit them. But look at the fruit in people's lives, he challenged. Are they loving others? Are
they serving God?
So wrote poet Phyllis McGinley, reflecting a common opinion of Jonathan Edwards, that he was a hellfire-and-
brimstone preacher who thundered God's wrath on terrified souls. That reputation stems from his most famous
sermon, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God," delivered in 1741 on a trip to Enfield, Connecticut.
"The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider, or some loathsome insect, over the fire,
abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked," Edwards intoned. But that wasn't the whole story. "And now you have
an extraordinary opportunity," he concluded, "a day wherein Christ has thrown the door of mercy wide open."
We have the texts of many sermons Edwards preached, and his writings are voluminous. He loved to muse about
the wonders of creation and the amazing love of God. The judgment of God was just one piece of a very large
theology. Unfortunately, that's all that some folks ever hear of this big-hearted preacher who reveled in the love
and grace of God.
Exit Wounds
The Great Awakening marked the beginning of the evangelical movement in America. Earlier colonists had
held evangelical beliefs, but the emphasis on a personal experience of God was rather new. And it flew in
the face of established church traditions. Jonathan Edwards discovered this in a painful way.
Society revolved around the church, and so churches were full of people who attended for social reasons.
Children were baptized into the church and grew up there, but some had never made a personal commitment
to God. Edwards wanted to change that. He began a policy of withholding Communion from anyone who
had not made that personal commitment. His church would be a fellowship of the redeemed.
Many didn't like it. His esteemed grandfather, Samuel Stoddard, who previously pastored that church, had
welcomed everyone to the Lord's Table. Who did Edwards think he was to keep people away--especially
when they'd been attending all their lives?
Edwards stood his ground, and in 1750 the church voted to remove him. In his farewell address, he preached
from 2 Corinthians 1:14, looking forward to future rejoicing in the day of Christ, when "there shall no longer
be any debate or difference of opinions. The evidence of the truth shall appear beyond all dispute, and all
controversies shall be finally and forever decided."
That negative experience freed Edwards for several cutting-edge opportunities. In 1751, he moved his
family west to the frontier town of Stockbridge, Massachusetts, where he started a ministry among the
Housatonnoc tribe. (This move was possibly inspired by family friend David Brainerd, a missionary to
Indian tribes throughout the colonies. Brainerd was engaged to Edwards' daughter Jerusha but died in 1747
before they could marry.)
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In 1754, Edwards published Freedom of the Will, a book that many consider his masterpiece. With top-notch
theological thinking, he tried to make sense of the apparently contradictory notions of divine sovereignty
and human free will.
Three years later, he was asked to take the presidency of the College of New Jersey (later known as
Princeton). But within the first year of those duties, in the interest of science, he agreed to be inoculated
against smallpox--a controversial treatment at the time. Contracting the disease, he died soon afterward.
When Sarah met Jonathan, he frightened her. Sarah Pierrepont was the young
daughter of a well-known pastor in New Haven, CT. Jonathan Edwards was a
tall, gawky grad student at Yale. He fell madly in love.
"She will sometimes go about from place to place, singing sweetly," he wrote in
his journal, "and seems always to be full of joy and pleasure; and no one knows
for what."
Wed in 1726, they had eleven children. Despite his pastoral responsibilities,
research and writing, Jonathan made it a point to spend time with his children,
individually and collectively. One hour each evening was family time, and
whenever either parent traveled, they took one child along.
Each night before bed, Jonathan and Sarah prayed and read Scripture together. He had enormous respect for her
spiritual life. In 1742, when the Great Awakening was sweeping America, Sarah had her own experience
involving religious ecstasy. She came through it with a stronger assurance of God's love. Jonathan took notes on
her experience. Did Sarah's experience sway Jonathan to be open to the "religious affections" of the Great
Awakening? Quite possibly.
Sadly, Sarah was not with Jonathan at his death. He had gone ahead to New Jersey to take up the presidency of
what is now Princeton University while she remained in Massachusetts, packing up the household. But his final
words were for her: "Give my kindest love to my dear wife, and tell her that the uncommon union which has so
long subsisted between us has been of such a nature as I trust is spiritual and therefore will continue forever."
Soup Stirring
Sit with Martin Luther by the sickbed of Philipp Melanchthon. The year is 1540. These two man had already
engaged in what often looked like a good cop-bad cop routine that changed the face of Europe. "I am rough,
stormy, and altogether warlike," Luther once wrote, "but Master Philippus comes along softly and gently,
sowing and watering with joy." Where Luther made brash pronouncements, Melanchthon offered gentle
persuasion.
But now it looked like Philipp was done for, and Martin prowled his bedside. "O Luther, is this you?"
Philipp murmured. "Why don't you let me depart in peace?"
"Because we can't spare you yet, Philipp. We cannot spare you yet." For nearly an hour, Luther knelt in
prayer. Rousing from his stupor, Melanchthon once again begged his friend to let him die, but Luther kept
praying. And he ordered some soup for the dying man.
Refusing the soup, Melanchthon said a third time, "Luther, why will you not let me go home and be at rest?"
"Because we cannot spare you yet, Philipp," came the thundering Reformer's reply. "Now, take this soup, or
else . . . or else. . . ." What leverage did he have? "Or else I will excommunicate you!"
The joke worked--along with the prayers and the soup. The dying man came back to health. Luther
commented later, "God answered my prayer and gave me my brother Melanchthon."
The following years were very important for Melanchthon as he organized and solidified the gains of the
Lutheran movement. It was Melanchthon who crafted the Augsburg Confession, and he tried valiantly to
iron out differences with the Calvinists and the Roman Catholics. Luther was right: they couldn't spare him.
As it turned out, Philipp would outlive Martin by fourteen years, taking leadership of the Lutheran
movement at a crucial time in its history.
The Pilgrims wondered if God was angry with them. One of their leaders, Edward Winslow, wrote that the
group decided to humble ourselves together before the Lord by fasting and prayer. To that end, a day was
appointed by public authority and set apart from all other employments.
The day-long prayer meeting began under clear skies, but by late afternoon the weather was overcast, the
clouds gathered on all sides. On the next morning distilled such soft, sweet and moderate showers of rain,
continuing some fourteen days and mixed with such seasonable weather, as it was hard to say whether our
withered corn or our drooping affections were most quickened or revived, such was the bounty and goodness
of our God!
Winslow added that the tribespeople took note of the goodness of our God towards us, that wrought so great
a change in so short a time, showing the difference between their conjurations and our invocation on the
name of God for rain.
Fish Story
A century and a half later, an American army encamped for the winter at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania (just
down the road a few miles from our Glimpses offices). British troops had taken Philadelphia and were
enjoying the relative comforts of that city while, just fifteen miles northwest of the city, the revolutionary
soldiers were freezing and starving. In these unusually bitter months, rations were scarce, and so were
blankets. Many of the men died from exposure.
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General George Washington often would be seen praying about the situation. One officer wrote, On every
practicable occasion, he sought God's blessing, and when no chaplain was present, he often called his staff
officers around him and lifted his heart and voice in prayer.
One morning the troops noticed something odd about the Schuylkill River. There was a disturbance in the
water, as if it was boiling. When they investigated, they found thousands of shad swimming upstream. This
was far too early in the season for these fish to be migrating, but the soldiers didn't stop to puzzle over the
situation. They waded in with pitchforks and shovels and flung onto the banks all the fish they could.
Miraculously, the army had all the food it needed, with some salted away for future meals.
Heavenly Haystack
The weather was quite different in the muggy summer of 1806 in western
Massachusetts when a thunderstorm drove five Williams College students to
seek refuge. Samuel Mills had gathered a few buddies for an outdoor prayer
meeting, and after they took cover under the eaves of a lean-to, beside a
haystack, they got talking about a geography class at school. This led them to
pray for the people of Asia, the continent the class had just been studying.
You might have noticed that God often asks us to help answer our own prayers.
That's what happened here. Within a few years, those collegians had inspired the
founding of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions.
Several of the students, including Adoniram Judson, went to Asia as
missionaries (the first foreign missionaries sent from America), and Samuel
Mills stayed stateside to recruit others. (He later helped organize the American Bible Society.)
That Haystack Prayer Meeting sparked an explosion of American support for missions that continues today.
"One day as I was walking along the streets," Lanphier wrote in his journal, "the idea was suggested to my
mind that an hour of prayer, from twelve to one o'clock, would be beneficial to businessmen." The idea
blossomed: a weekly prayer time, open to anyone, bankers to broom-pushers. Come when you can, leave
when you must. Handbills advertised the first meeting--at noon on September 23, 1857.
Lanphier waited for the first attenders. No one showed up for the first ten minutes, twenty, thirty. Then one
man straggled in, then another. The hour ended with six men present, praying. The following week there
were twenty, the next week forty. Soon a hundred. Some of them wanted to meet every day. Rooms were
packed. The church had to ask another church to handle the overflow. When churches ran out of room, the
prayer meetings moved to theaters. By March, 1858, the New York Times could report that Burton's Theater
on Chambers Street was packed as famous preacher Henry Ward Beecher led a crowd of 3,000 in prayer.
Some estimated that up to a million people became Christians in the 1857-58 revival.
What caused such immense interest in prayer? A stock market crash might have had something to do with it.
Business leaders enslaved by money were suddenly seeking a more reliable master. When he started his
humble prayer time, Jeremiah Lanphier had no way of knowing about the impending financial collapse. He
just knew people needed to pray.
Prayer Walk
In 1989, half a world away, another prayer meeting had an even greater effect on a society. For several years
already, four churches in Communist Leipzig, East Germany, had been holding weekly prayer meetings
every Monday evening at five. Political change was in the air during 1989, and these meetings began to
grow.
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After the prayer meetings, people would light candles and walk peacefully through the city streets, a gentle
protest against the Communist regime. The peaceful protests only grew. As many as 50,000 eventually
joined in.
Then came October 9, what Germans began to call "the turning point." The East German government got
involved, sending in police and soldiers with orders to shoot the protesters. Many feared a bloodbath. When
one church opened its doors for the weekly prayer meeting, two thousand Communist Party members rushed
in to take all the seats. No problem: the church opened the balconies for the usual protesters and, like it or
not, the Communists had to sit through a prayer meeting.
Did prayer silence the weapons? That's what many German Christians believe. Amazingly, shots weren't
fired that night in Leipzig as 70,000 people marched peacefully through town. Or the next Monday, when
120,000 marched. Or the next, when there were 500,000--nearly the entire population of Leipzig.
In early November nearly a million marched through the capital, East Berlin. Police defied orders to shoot.
The president resigned in disgrace. And soon there was an opening in the famous Berlin Wall. The stunning
developments spread throughout Eastern Europe as peaceful revolutions dismantled Communist regimes.
What had these prayer meetings wrought? The New Republic reported, "Whether or not prayers really move
mountains, they certainly mobilized the population of Leipzig." Certainly there were political and social
undercurrents, but don't miss the spiritual dimension. It was obvious to the people most closely involved. A
few weeks after that dramatic "turning point," someone put up a banner in Leipzig. "Wir danken Dir,
Kirche," it read. "We thank you, church."
These stories have been adapted from the book 100 Amazing Answers to Prayer, by William J. Petersen and
Randy Petersen (Revell, 2003), with permission of the authors.
The lady with the lamp was Florence Nightingale, a woman of privilege whose faith was played out in her
caring attention to thousands of ailing soldiers. These lines from the American poet Henry Wadsworth
Longfellow (1807-1882), from his 1857 poem "Santa Filomena," helped make her famous. But her mission
was merely to help make people well.
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From Wealth to War
Florence Nightingale was born of wealthy British parents in the Italian city she was named for. Her father, a
banker, made sure that she and her sister received the broadest education possible. Young Florence learned a
handful of European languages and could read the New Testament in its original Greek.
As a teenager, she loved the social life her status could afford--the dances, the clothes, the suitors--but there
was something missing in all that. "I craved for some regular occupation," she wrote, "for something worth
doing, instead of frittering time away on useless trifles." In the next few years, her attention turned to the
needs of the sick and dying. Against her parents' wishes, Florence chose a nursing career.
She spent time with the Protestant Deaconesses at their institute in Kaiserwerth, Germany, and was
impressed by their simple lives and faithful devotion. Later, she toured hospitals in London, Edinburgh,
Dublin, and Paris, studying conditions and nursing methods. In 1853, helped by a small income from her
father, Florence became superintendent of the Institution for the Care of Sick Gentlewomen in Distressed
Circumstances in London, just in time for an outbreak of cholera.
Florence brought improved care and smart management to her work. Within two years she became her
country's leading authority on hospitals. This led to a request from the British government: Would she serve
as Superintendent of Female Nurses at a military hospital in Scutari, Turkey, where the army was fighting
the Crimean War? This was her life's work. Of course she said yes.
If she thought London's cholera epidemic was tough, this was tougher. Within three weeks of her arrival,
Florence had three thousand soldiers to care for. She established a hospital just a few miles from the front.
There would be greater danger there, but injured men could get quicker attention.
And that's where the legend of Florence Nightingale arose. A reporter saw her tending to the wounded and
wrote, "When . . . silence and darkness have settled upon those miles of prostrate sick, she may be observed
alone, with a little lamp in her hand, making the solitary rounds." Not long afterward, Longfellow
immortalized her as "The Lady with the Lamp." Upon her return to England, Florence was a national
heroine; she became a public health advisor to other nations as well.
Although she believed generally in women's rights and careers for women, Florence preferred to work
behind the scenes. Surprisingly, she did not give support to the concept of women doctors, believing that
they were just trying to be men. She considered it more important to have better-trained female nurses. She
was also opposed to women making speeches in public.
Yet when it came to health care, Florence was ready to fight. She campaigned successfully to improve the
hygiene and health care of the British Army, which she found appalling. At one point, setting forth her core
values, she said, "It may seem a strange principle to enunciate as the very first requirement in a hospital that
it should do the sick no harm."
She became a champion of nursing education. Wealthy friends, especially John Delane of The Times
newspaper, helped Florence to raise £59,000 to found the Nightingale School & Home for Nurses at St.
Thomas's Hospital, London. At last nursing became a respectable and sought-after profession.
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When she broke from family expectations to become a nurse at age 30, she noted that this was the age when
Jesus began his ministry. She clearly saw her work as a way of following her Lord. And what better way to
commit one's life to the Healer than by devoting oneself to healing? She once told an assembly of nurses,
"Christ is the author of our profession."
At her death in 1910, Florence Nightingale was buried in her family's 13th-century parish church, St.
Margaret, in Hampshire, England. In recognition of her life of Christ-like care, there is a movement to have
Florence commemorated in Lesser Feasts and Fasts of the Episcopal Church.
While working in the military hospital during the Crimean conflict, Nightingale wrote in a letter:
"In the midst of this appalling horror there is good--and I can truly say, like St. Peter, 'It is good for us to be
here'--though I doubt whether, if St. Peter had been here, he would have said so."
The Scutari Cross (right), made of bullets and shrapnel from the Crimean War, was in
Florence NightingaleÕs bedroom when she died. For many years it was kept in the Church
of St. Margaret, East Wellow, Hampshire (below) where Florence Nightingale was buried.
Founded in 1215, the church is not far from the family estate, Embley Park. The cross was
stolen in 1991.
Mary Seacole: Another Angel of the Crimean War They called her "Mother Seacole," the
black woman who nursed soldiers on the battlefield--even during combat. She was also seen on
occasion helping fallen enemy soldiers.
Mary Seacole was born in Kingston, Jamaica, in 1805, of a Jamaican mother and a Scottish military officer.
Though not a trained nurse, she learned her skills caring for invalid soldiers in her mother's boarding house.
Mary came to England in 1864 and applied to the war department to be sent to the Crimean War as a nurse.
Her appeal was rejected.
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Bust of Mary Seacole by George Kelly, based on original by Count Gleichen
(1872).
That didn't stop this determined woman. Seacole raised money on her own to finance
her journey to the Crimea. There she set up the British Hotel--half hostel, half
hospital--using her own funds to provide "mess-table and comfortable quarters for
sick and convalescent officers." This in itself was a valuable service, but Mary wasn't
satisfied. Her nursing skills were needed on the battlefield.
Over the next year, she visited the soldiers' campsites, dispensing medicine, meals
and other necessities. At times she went right to the battlefield to care for the
wounded. Soldiers became familiar with this angel of mercy in her colorful outfits,
rushing to tend their fallen comrades.
When the Crimean War ended, Mary returned to England. Financially bankrupt, she wrote an
autobiography, The Wonderful Adventures of Mrs. Seacole in Many Lands, which became a bestseller. After
several years, Seacole's work was largely forgotten, but in the last few decades, it has seen renewed interest.
Her autobiography was reprinted in 1984 by Falling Wall Press. And several groups are trying to bring this
role model back to the attention of the world. Perhaps closest to Mrs. Seacole's heart would be the Mary
Seacole Centre for Nursing Practice on the London campus of the Faculty of Health and Human Sciences,
Thames University. She would certainly love the thought that others are being taught to care for the
wounded as she did.
"I am not ashamed to confess," Mary Seacole wrote in her autobiography, "that I love to be of service to
those who need a woman's help. And wherever the need arises -- on whatever distant shore -- I asked no
greater or higher privilege than to minister to it."
"I have stood by receiving the last blessings of Christians, and closing the eyes of those who
had nothing to trust to but the mercy of a God who will be far more merciful to us than we
are to one another; and I say decidedly that the Christian's death is the glorious one, as is his
life." -- Mary Seacole
There is a movement to place a statue of Mary Seacole on the empty plinth in Trafalgar Square. This is
especially appropriate since Mary's husband, Edward Horatio Hamilton Seacole, was the godson of the
British naval hero, Admiral Lord Nelson, whose statue dominates the Square.
John Calvin, French scholar and theologian and reluctant leader of the Reformation in
Geneva, Switzerland. It took a search committee to find him a wife. (17th century Dutch
print)
Along with Martin Luther, Calvin stands as a giant in the Protestant Reformation. But where Luther wrote
often about his passionate relationship with wife Katie, Calvin kept rather quiet about his love life. But then,
this quiet, bookish scholar didnÕt talk much about any personal matters.
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Educated in France and famous for his work in Geneva, Calvin found his wife in German-speaking
Strasbourg. It would be more correct to say, "a wife was found for him." The story would make a great
premise for a modern TV reality show.
So Calvin stayed in Geneva. "I felt as if God from heaven had laid his mighty hand upon me to stop me in
my tracks," he said later. But Geneva wasn't ready for this dynamic duo. Less than two years later, Calvin
and Farel were both given three days to get out of town or else. They got out. Suffering chronic headaches
and stomach upsets, Calvin vowed never to get mixed up in church administrative affairs again.
While the church work was going well, Calvin's finances were not. He rented a large house and turned it into
a dormitory for students, hoping the rent would cover his expenses. It didn't. Besides the money problems,
he had people problems, and that gave him stomach and headache problems as well.
He hired a cook-housekeeper who had a sharp tongue. That didn't work out very well either. She had a
tendency to scream at the tenants when Calvin was trying to edit the second edition of his classic Institutes.
Finally Bucer told Calvin, "You ought to have a wife." Bucer didn't usually make suggestions; more often
they were commands. After three decades of single life, this would be a major adjustment for Calvin. But
maybe if he had a wife, John thought, she could decide what to do with unpleasant housekeepers. So he
agreed to have a "search committee" hunt for a suitable mate.
Calvin had good reason that she be concerned about his health. He was said to eat only one meal a day and
was often ill with indigestion, headaches, gallstones, hemorrhoids, gout, fever and chronic asthma.
Candidate #1
It took them a year-and-a-half to find a suitable candidate. On the plus side, the woman was wealthy, which
would be helpful because Calvin wanted to live the life of a scholar. Her brother was an ardent supporter of
Calvin's teachings, and sort of acted as her campaign manager with the committee. This match made sense
to everyone--except Calvin.
On the debit side, the woman spoke no French, though she reluctantly agreed to learn a little. But another
problem was, in fact, her money, as John described in a letter to his old friend Farel: "You understand,
William, that she would bring with her a large dowry, and this could be embarrassing to a poor minister like
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myself. I feel, too, that she might become dissatisfied with her humbler station in life." So Calvin turned her
down.
Candidate #2
Farel responded with a candidate of his own. In his congregation was a woman who spoke French, a devout
Protestant who had never been married. On the negative side was the fact that she was in her mid-forties,
about 15 years older than Calvin. John never pursued the suggestion.
Candidate #3
The third candidate seemed like a good one. She lived in another city, but had a good reputation. "She is
mightily commended by those who are acquainted with her," said one of his searchers. She didn't have
money, but that was fine with Calvin. She seemed to meet all of his qualifications, so he began inviting
friends to his wedding. But something went wrong. As Calvin got to know her, he didn't like her. The more
he knew her, the less he liked her. However, the opposite was true for her--she had now fallen deeply in love
with him. John Calvin wanted to have a non-emotional arrangement, but now it was complicated by some
intense feelings.
Now Calvin was embarrassed because she was pressing for marriage, trying to "overwhelm me altogether
with her kindness." As the wedding date approached, John wrote that he wouldn't marry her "even if the
Lord had altogether demented me." He prayed, "Most earnestly do I desire to be delivered out of this
difficulty." Ultimately he asked his brother Antoine to "deliver him" by giving his fiancee the bad news of
the final breakup.
Then he remembered a widow in his congregation. Her husband had died in a plague a few months earlier,
and John had conducted the funeral. Calvin had been impressed with how she had cared for her dying
husband as well as her two children. She was 31, about John's age. An intelligent woman, she was not afraid
to speak her mind. Most interesting, she and her husband had been Anabaptists, fleeing persecution in their
native Holland. Coming to Strasbourg, they had connected with Calvin's church and converted to the
Reformed faith a year earlier.
It didn't take long now. Within two months, John married Idelette de Bure Stordeur, with William Farel
officiating.
It seems as if Idelette played a similar role. Though he never wrote much about his own home life, John
called Idelette "the faithful helper of my ministry" and "the best companion of my life." At times she
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accompanied him in his travels. Calvin's biographers speak of her as a woman "of some force and
individuality."
A week after her death he wrote to a friend, "Truly mine is no ordinary grief." He had never shared intimate
details of their relationship, but others observed that it was a marriage of mutual love, respect and
companionship. Perhaps John was teaching his ex-Anabaptist wife of God's sovereignty, while Idelette
demonstrated for her nervous husband the Holy Spirit's role as Comforter.
-- by William J. Petersen,
author of 25 Surprising Marriages (Baker, 1997)
Feared lost at sea for more than a month, suddenly here she was, appearing like a ghost of her once elegant
self. Encrusted with barnacles, with shredded storm sails hanging from her masts, the yacht anchored at the
medical inspection station and was boarded instantly by authorities, who hoisted the yellow flag of
quarantine. On board they found deplorable conditionsÑsixty passengers, including women and children, in
a space allocated for thirty, crowded into filthy, water-soaked quarters. The crew to a man were thin and
haggard, some barely able to stand. "The worst cases of scurvy I have ever seen," the senior medical officer
told the gathering reporters.
In a matter of days, a federal marshal arrested the owner of the vessel, the Rev. Frank Weston Sandford,
charging him with the deaths of six of his crew. He had "unlawfully, knowingly and willfully" refused to
provision a ship at sea with proper food and staples, read the indictment. Sandford pleaded not guilty. The
tragedies had occurred in the process of obeying a "higher law," he told the court. He and his followers were
carrying out the will and purposes of God for the end of the age and the triumphant return of Jesus Christ.
This story may seem all too familiar to modern readersÑfollowers captivated by a deranged but convincing
religious leader and led inevitably to disaster. But Sandford's organization was no backwoods parody, and
Sandford himself, a graduate of Bates College, a respected young pastor, once a member of the highly
acclaimed Student Volunteer Movement, had won the admiration of local and national Christian leaders and
appeared to be headed for an important role in the church. So what went wrong?
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He began this new work in southern Maine, with a tiny Bible school in a borrowed house. His first students,
carefully selected men and women barely out of their teens, were to become the hard core of the special
"band." With funds "prayed in," the school expanded quickly. A complex of buildings soon arose on a sand
hill in the farming town of Durham, with the first structure, a chapel, called "Shiloh." Though the movement
labeled itself variously over time as the "Holy Ghost and Us Bible School," the "World's Evangelization
Crusade," the "Church of the Living God," and finally "The Kingdom," "Shiloh" was the name that stuck.
Sandford's messianic vision also continued to grow, and he announced that he heard a series of God-
whispered revelations naming him the present day embodiment of the Old Testament David and the prophet
Elijah returned--the restoration and completion of God's work throughout Biblical history. According to this
vision, Sandford and his closest co-worker would be martyred for Christ on the streets of Jerusalem and rise
again in three days, as predicted of the two witnesses in the Book of Revelation.
Frank Weston Sandford (1862-1948) had a gift for attracting followers and challenging
them to a greater level of commitment.
Within a decade of Shiloh's origin, the early party of students grew to many hundred,
including whole families, sharing all things in common, in strict and uncompromising
obedience to their leader. This was called the "hundred-fold" life. Money meant nothing and
yet everything. Deliberately dependent on God for every necessity, as Sandford insisted, no
one worked for wages. Nothing was sold. How then did they exist? Family savings were
turned in as more and more people joined, funds were raised at conventions, and erratic
farming provided some supplies. Very often there was not enough to eat, yet new stations
were opened in Jerusalem and England, and sea craft were purchased to carry the Gospel
around the world . . . which brings us back to the Coronet.
Shiloh, the chapel built by Sandford’s followers on a hilltop near Durham, Maine.
In the course of this tremendous undertaking, Sandford learned that his legal troubles
were not over. While the Coronet sailed, authorities watched for him at ports of call
with a writ for his arrest. The alleged offense was a relatively minor one, but he feared
its resolution would mean a serious interruption to the yacht's mission. To avoid being
tracked, he refused to enter ports to obtain provisions. As the "Coronet Company" rode
out gale after gale in the North Atlantic, six men died of scurvy and malnutrition and a
strong remnant of the crew insisted on being brought to shore. After the yacht finally
limped into the Portland harbor, Frank Sandford was convicted of manslaughter and
sentenced to ten years in a federal prison.
Frank Sandford died in1948 at the age of 87, in a comfortable farmhouse in Hobart, New York, surrounded
by his family and faithful disciples. He died of old age, not hunger or hardship or martyrdom. For another
half decade, Shiloh carried on as The Kingdom, Inc., with headquarters in New Hampshire and pockets of
followers throughout the country. It exists today as a decentralized evangelical movement, with the memory
of its founder and shepherd still revered.
A Cautionary Tale?
What are we to draw today from such a history? Is it only a cautionary tale about the risks in following a
deluded and self-exonerating leader? Apart from that, what can be wrong with a yearning for
uncompromising faith, or with a willingness to give up all to see God’s Kingdom realized on earth, or
obedience to God in the face of severe challenge? For these very qualities we have honored our Christian
heroes through the ages. At the conclusion of her history of the Shiloh movement, Fair, Clear and Terrible,
author Shirley Nelson points to the snare of needing and insisting on answers, of “knowing” with certainty
God’s will and plan for the world—of reading that plan INTO Scripture and going to extremes to carry it
out. This, she suggests, is obedience not to God but to our own ideas and theories, an insidious and
dangerous form of idolatry for leaders and followers alike.
Parham preached "apostolic faith," including the need for a baptism of the Holy Spirit
accompanied by speaking in tongues. A revival erupted in Topeka on January 1, 1901, and
many were convinced that the turn of the century had brought them into the last days.
A year earlier, Charles Fox Parham had visited the Holy Ghost and Us School at Shiloh, run by Frank
Sandford. While Sandford's teaching was not entirely Pentecostal, it did share many features with Parham's
emerging theology. In fact, Parham started the Bethel Bible School shortly after returning from the Shiloh
trip, apparently modeling it on Sandford's institution.
Postscript:
This issue was written by Shirley Nelson. Her parents grew up as part of the Shiloh community. Shirley is
also the author of the most definitive study of Shiloh and Sandford, entitled Fair Clear and Terrible: The
Story of Shiloh (British American Publishing, 1989). The book is out of print but a new edition may be
issued soon. It should be required reading for seminary students, as it insightfully reveals various recurring
pathologies among religious leaders.
See the website fwselijah.com and its valuable documents and dialogue. It also reports on the current
remnant. We are told:
The church fellowship found today at Shiloh Chapel, Durham, ME, is currently disentangling itself from the
Kingdom. It (Shiloh) is now an independent corporation, and its ministry is focused on Christ alone. The
Holy Spirit, through the current ministry team, is working to bind up the confusion and wounds which
resulted from a ministry not totally centered on the ChristÕs gospel. Though Shiloh's roots spring from the
soil of Sandford's quasi-Biblical doctrines, they, as individuals and as a unified church, are today earnestly
seeking their role in the expansion of God's Kingdom on earth.
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CHRISTIANS AND MUSLIMS; A
STORY WRITTEN IN BLOOD.
As we seek to understand some of the major differences between
Christianity and Islam, it is impossible to ignore 1,400 years of a
conflicted history. It is a story more often written in blood than with ink.
No one who has lived or traveled in the Middle East can be unaware of
the lingering resentment felt toward the "Latins," as the Crusaders are
called. This bitterness extends beyond Muslims to Greek Orthodox
Christians, who have never forgotten the trauma of the Fourth Crusade of 1204. On that occasion, Crusaders
from the West, marching under the banner of the cross, raped and pillaged Constantinople, doing to their
fellow Christians what no Muslim army had been able to do up to that point. Missiology expert Ruth Tucker
has written of the lingering effects of the crusading mentality on Christian missions: "So bitter was the
animosity of Muslims toward Christians, as a result of the savage cruelty manifested during the Crusades,
that even today the memory has not been erased, and evangelism remains most difficult among people of the
Muslim faith."
The crusades were a violent, sporadic, and ultimately ineffectual response to this threat. When Pope Urban II
called for an international counter-jihad to liberate the Holy Land from the infidels, thousands of people
responded deus vult ("God wills it"). Bernard of Clairvaux, among others, encouraged the Knights of Europe
to do the honorable thing by taking up the sword under the banner of the Cross: "Our King [Jesus] is accused
of treachery; it is said of him [by the Muslims] that he is not God, but that he falsely pretended to be
something he was not. Any man among you who is his vassal ought to rise up to defend his Lord from the
infamous accusation of treachery; he should go to the sure fight, where to win will be glorious and where to
die will be gain."
Hagia Sophia, the Church of Holy Wisdom in Istanbul, Turkey. Islamic symbols today adorn the walls
of one of the most magnificent churches of Christendom. This great church was rebuilt by Justinian I
between 532 and 537. It replaced two previous churches there that were
burned. In 1453 it was converted into a mosque by the Turks, who
destroyed the Christian mosaics or covered them with whitewash.
In the early years of the Reformation, when it seemed that Europe might be run
over by the Muslim armies of the Ottoman Turks, there was much talk about
recruiting soldiers for a new crusade. Although he was no pacifist, Martin
Luther was opposed to this idea. The church should not fight with the sword, he
said. There are other weapons it must wield, another kind of warfare it should
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wage, and thus it "must not mix itself up with the wars of the emperor and the princes." What if we sent
evangelists rather than warriors to the Turks? he asked. Perhaps some of the Muslims there would be
converted "when they see that Christians surpass the Turks in humility, patience, diligence, fidelity, and
such like virtues."
In recent years, a new awareness of the Muslim world has emerged among evangelical Christians. We've
been called to pray for our brothers and sisters in Christ who live in Muslim lands--many of whom face
persecution, duress, and even death because they are Jesus--followers. We've also learned much about
Muslim culture and the importance of building bridges to Islam for the sake of the gospel. Even assuming
the best of motives, which were not always evident, the Crusaders missed the mark. Francis, not Richard the
Lionheart, got it right. In Jesus" name, we still reach out under the banner of the Cross but with a different
objective--not to retake from Islam what Christendom has lost, as the Crusaders tried to do, but to share with
Muslims the Christ they have missed.
Among the many distinctive truths Christians proclaim, and one that sets us apart from Islam, is this: God,
the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, is a God who has forever known himself as the Father, the Son, and the
Holy Spirit. This is the doctrine of the Holy Trinity. This is something that all orthodox Christians believe--
Greek Orthodox Christians, Roman Catholic Christians, evangelical Protestant Christians, and many others.
It is at the heart of the distinctive message we proclaim and what sets us apart most dramatically from Islam.
Flesh is different from human being. Flesh is that part of our human reality that is most vulnerable, that gets
sick. It gets tired. It experiences decay and death. But this is the stupendous claim the Bible makes, and if
you don't feel the absolute horrible force of this statement, you'll never understand why orthodox Islam finds
Christianity so abhorrent: Allah became flesh. This is a blasphemous thought to orthodox Muslims. But it's a
remarkable claim that Christianity makes.
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The Crucial Confession of Christians
The divine lordship and the deity of Jesus Christ were denied in the 4th century by a man named Arius. He
was sincere. He was well read. He did not deny that the Bible was true. But he said, Jesus Christ is a
creature. He's higher than any other creature. But he is not God. Arius denied that Jesus was the same
essence, the same fundamental reality, as God. At the Council of Nicea, the church had to say no, we can't
go that way. The one we adore and worship and love in Jesus our Redeemer is of the same essence as the
Father. We're not talking about two different gods. We're talking about the one God, but the one God who
has forever known himself as Father, Son and Holy Spirit. This says to us that the fundamental reality of
God is relationship--it's community. If we can ever grasp that, we'll understand what our fundamental
differences are with Islam.
But the answer is also No, for Muslim theology rejects the divinity of Christ and the personhood of the Holy
Spirit--both essential components of the Christian understanding of God. No devout Muslim can call the
God of Muhammad "Father," for this, to their mind, would compromise divine transcendence. But no
faithful Christian can refuse to confess, with joy and confidence, "I believe in God the Father Almighty!"
Apart from the Incarnation and the Trinity, it is possible to know that God is, but not who God is.
Long ago, Gregory of Nyssa put it this way: "It is not the vastness of the heavens and the bright shining of
the constellations, the order of the universe, and the unbroken administration over all existence that so
manifestly displays the transcendent power of God, as his condescension to the weakness of our human
nature, in the way sublimity is seen in lowliness."
This does not mean that we should condemn every Muslim believer as an idolater. . . but instead recall what
the Christian God is about. God was in Christ, reaching out to us in love, accommodating himself to our
condition, to save us.
So this is what Christians are about as ambassadors of Christ and his gospel: to go into the world, into
prisons, barrios and ghettos, wherever human beings exist in alienation and separation from God, and tell
them that the relational God is reaching out to us.
For many, the discovery of the Bible becomes an adventure that lasts a whole lifetime! Sound ridiculous?
Maybe, but there is an incredibly long line of people stretching for thousands of years who would insist it is
true. Stop and think. Long, long before the world knew anything of television, radio, CDs, airplanes,
automobiles, Coca Cola or IBM, a book that later became known as "The Bible" was compiled. This book
was finished centuries before printing was available to mass produce books, and in those earlier centuries
every copy had to be done by hand. In every generation since it was written, it has been revered and looked
to as a source for understanding our world, our humanity, our relationships, our reason for existence. A solid
case can be made that the best things in our Western world, a world that slowly and painfully emerged from
barbarism to an advanced civilization, developed largely from the inspiration provided by the Bible. It
played a central role in the formation of our culture.
The World's Most Translated Book The Bible has been translated into more languages than any other work
ever written. There are now translations in more than 2,000 languages. Today literally thousands of
dedicated linguists pour out their lives to provide the Bible in every active language on the face of the earth.
Often they provide the first written version of oral languages.
A Book for the Greatest Intellects . . .and Yet Even for the Small Child
More books have been written about the Bible than any other subject, and the single person about whom
more books have been written than anyone else comes from the Bible. It is Jesus. Over the centuries brilliant
scholars have spent entire lifetimes trying to analyze and understand even small portions of the Bible. Yet
even small children in Sunday schools are able to grasp the key stories of the Bible.
I heard one time the Bible being compared to a pool of water. A pool that in some parts is so shallow that a
child can go wading, but a pool also that is so deep in other places that an elephant can go swimming there.
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Well, the Bible is a wonderful book that contains passages which in some cases are very deep and profound.
Yet, in general the Bible as a whole is simple enough for anyone who is untutored to read it and understand
what God's will and way would be for that person. --Noted New Testament scholar, Dr. Bruce Metzger
Some love it
A - Theodore Roosevelt (1858-1919) [left] A thorough knowledge of the Bible is worth more than
a college education.
C - Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865) All the good from the Savior of the world is communicated
through this bookÉAll things desirable to men are contained in the Bible.
D - Emmanuel Kant (1724-1804) The Bible is the greatest benefit which the human race has ever
experienced.
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Some hate it
E - Voltaire (1694-1778) [left] If we would destroy the Christian religion, we must first of all
destroy man's belief in the Bible.
F - Robert Ingersoll (1833-1899) The inspiration of the Bible depends upon the ignorance of
the gentleman who reads it.
G - Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900) One does well to put on gloves when reading the New
Testament--everything in it is cowardice and self-deception.
H - Thomas Paine (c. 1737-1809) . . .It would be more consistent that we call it the work of a demon than
the word of God. It is a history of wickedness that has served to corrupt and brutalize mankind.
The Bible's view of history differs markedly from the typical views that prevailed in ancient times. It was
common to think of the world as an endless cycle, tied to nature and the seasons, or as a "wheel of unending
occurrences," as the Greeks put it. But the view presented throughout the Bible is progressive or linear, with
history having a purpose, and the world moving forward to a goal.
Next issue: The next issue of Glimpses will show how the Bible was amazingly preserved over the centuries
despite attempts to destroy it, how the Bible was taught during many centuries when the population was
largely illiterate and copies were scarce.
Antiochus Epiphanes
Acting on a decree by the mad tyrant Antiochus Epiphanes in 167 BC, his
henchmen tried to destroy all copies of Jewish Scripture. The books of the law (i.e. Jewish Scripture) that
they found they tore to pieces and burned with fire. Anyone found possessing the book of the covenant, or
anyone who adhered to the law, was condemned to death.
The Roman emperor Diocletian instituted the "Great Persecution" against Christians in the year AD 303. He
attempted to exterminate the church and decreed that every manuscript of the Bible was to be seized and
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destroyed. He had the words extincto nomine Christianorum ("the name of the Christians having been
destroyed") put over the ashes of a copy of the Bible.
But the Scriptures have obviously long outlasted Diocletian and Antiochus and other rulers who tried to do
away with the Bible.
Other obstacles also kept the Bible from the people, including illiteracy and cultural barriers. The church in
the Middle Ages spread to diverse peoples who spoke different languages. The "barbarian" peoples over
time were brought to Christianity. So the Bible was taught in different ways. The written word was still
basic, and monasteries carefully attended to the copying of the Bible. They made illuminated manuscript
copies, some most magnificent, reflecting the reverence the monks accorded to the Bible. And the Scriptures
were preserved as civilization underwent major transformations. But these did little to feed the souls of the
masses of common people.
This was before the advent of printing, so every copy was done by hand. A single copy of the Bible could
take up to a year for a scribe to write. But even if the Bible had been available, most people would not have
been able to read it. In 14th and 15th century Europe, for example, only ten percent of the population could
read at all, and only two percent could read effectively.
A 14th century Oxford philosopher and priest in England, John Wycliffe was consumed with a
burning passion to purify the church. Wycliffe and his followers began the momentous task of
translating the entire Bible into English for the first time. Church authorities, concerned about
heresies and misinterpretations, moved against Wycliffe. His movement didn't succeed, but he
opened the door and inspired others. He is commonly called "The Morningstar of the
Reformation."
In 16th-century England, William Tyndale, a brilliant young priest, took up where John Wycliffe left
off to bring the Bible to the common people. He could not gain approval from his church superiors,
so he worked as an outlaw on the run in Europe, translating the Bible into English from the original
languages and smuggling copies back into England to his countrymen. He was captured, condemned
and executed in 1536. But his work became the foundation for our subsequent English Bibles.
A German monk in the early 1500s, he played one of the most visible roles in bringing the
Bible back to the churches. Luther's burden of guilt tortured his soul. He found no comfort in
religious ceremonies. But in his study of Scripture Luther discovered the path to salvation and
inner peace he so desperately sought. His teachings brought him into conflict with church
authorities and to an eventual split. He translated the Bible into German for his people and
inspired churches in many nations to return to the Bible as their teaching authority.
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Even a young girl played a significant role in the dissemination of Scripture. The advent of printing made
possible the spreading of the Bible as never before. It did not happen all at once, but a key surge was
prompted by young Mary Jones of Wales. As a teenager she saved her money and walked barefoot 25 miles
to buy a Bible of her own. Her example is credited with inspiring the formation of Bible societies which now
provide millions of copies worldwide every year.
Through the Middle Ages, when most of the population was illiterate, the Bible was taught in an amazing
variety of ways.
Pilgrimages took on great importance in the Middle Ages. Then, as now, there was special interest in
visiting Jerusalem and the land of Israel to recall Biblical events in their original settings.
Drama in church services in medieval Europe told the stories of the Bible. At times many plays would be
given on one day in the chancel of a church.
The dramas grew in popularity and moved outside to the marketplace. The plays could last up to three days.
To Every Tongue and People--The Most Translated Book in the World! From the earliest days,
believers have hungered for the Scriptures in their mother tongues. For centuries,
Bible translation proceeded slowly. In the chart above you see the number of
translations that were in existence at the end of each century from the first century
until now.
The first Bible printed in America was a translation for the Indians by John
Eliot in 1658.
Notice especially what has happened in the last two hundred years. The pace of
translation activity exploded! Today, it is expected that within a generation or two
the Bible could be translated into every known language on earth. Thousands of
gifted linguists work in remote areas of the world right now to achieve that goal. There are at least portions
of the Bible now in over 2,000 languages. Exact numbers are not currently available on how many languages
there are yet to go and that is now being surveyed worldwide, but the day will come when every person on
earth who can read will be able to read at least portions of the Bible in their own language.
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Progress of Bible Translation over Past 20 Centuries
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