TIME MUST EXPLAIN SOME THINGS

Arrested for Preaching -- Death of My First Wife -- God's Explanation

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. 1 Cor. 13:12.

     Some things are very mysterious, so much so that logic, argument, yea, even grace itself cannot account for their happening. Such things have occurred in my life, and it required time to heal the wound and make it all plain. In fact, it is not perfectly plain as yet. So I suppose I will need to wait until eternity when I will "know even as I am known."

     One such incident was the death of my first wife. She was a wonderful woman of poise and power. We had lived together for ten beautiful years, doing pioneer work. This implied many hardships, such as sleeping on straw ticks in the back part of our mission hall where rats and mice were plentiful. This curtained-off space was our home for the time being. We used store boxes for cupboards, tables and chairs. We had the coarsest food -- when we had any. Many times we went without the common necessities of life and subsisted upon potatoes without gravy, mush without milk or sugar, and bread without butter.

     But we were happy for we had wonderful revivals and raised up many new churches which became self-supporting for others to enjoy. Strange to say, some of those preachers who came on to pastor the work felt led to criticize our methods.

     After seven years of poverty and hardships, we felt led to go to Atlanta, Ga. Here, as usual, we met opposition, yea, a new form of it -- that of being branded as "Yankees." This, of course, succeeded in keeping many people from attending our services. We were denounced through the papers, and finally arrested and sixteen of us taken to court for holding a street meeting. Rev. Sam P. Jones, who was in a big campaign at the time was so stirred that he denounced the action of the drunken mayor and the Catholic police who arrested us. Our trial lasted three days, but we were cleared and exonerated, the judge authorizing the police not to disturb us, for we were "doing a great and good work."

     Now the people began to come in throngs and we had a wonderful revival. Frequently our family prayers began at 5:30 A. M., and lasted until noon. Business men and others dropped everything and came to seek the Lord. We found it necessary to move to a larger and more central house where we opened a "Missionary Training Home." Prospective home and foreign missionaries poured in from various states, and again we were compelled to enlarge our quarters. Besides our family of from twenty to thirty, we had a large lodging house above our Mission, for poor men. Here they could get a good bed for ten cents, and if they did not have the dime we had a wood and coal yard where they could earn it. We had three or four large buildings rented, each one as busy as a beehive. The printing plant that had started with a few little leaflets was now turning out tracts and booklets by the ton.

     But now about the crushing blow I was soon to receive. As all normal people, who behave themselves and fear God, we longed for an heir. We both looked forward with pleasure to the time when we could hear the prattle of little feet. As the time drew near, my heart swelled with the thought that I would be called not only husband, but father. Full preparations were made for that eventful hour, and two doctors and a nurse were employed. But to our surprise, after hours of agony and convulsions (for she was thirty-four years of age), a little waxen figure lay still in death. Four days later I received a beautiful and submissive smile, and she was gone. I could not believe my eyes! It was night! I could not sleep, but walked the streets and occasionally spoke out audibly, "Somebody wake me up! I am having an awful nightmare that Minnie is dead! Surely it is not so:" But as I returned to the house of mourning and saw that beautiful form, I was forced to know that it was a fact. I tried to argue with God, not with a rebellious spirit, but bewildered and crushed beyond expression I pled my cause, yea, as I thought, His cause. "How could this thing be?" We had prayed, we were conscientious. Furthermore, I argued "Many people have six or more children, who cannot properly take care of one. Many husbands are cruel and untrue, but here I am at the head of an institution, needing a wise counselor (as was she), and now this we.' -begun work must cease; for how can a single man continue without being slandered and misunderstood?"

     I well remember the morning before that lovely form was taken to the cemetery. I came downstairs, long before day, and knelt at the casket, a crushed and broken-hearted man. I raised my tear-dimmed eyes and, looking across the coffin, beheld upon the wall a motto that in the past I had very flippantly quoted before large audiences. But now I noticed three words that 1 had never considered before. The first three: "FOR WE KNOW, that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose." "But," said I to myself, "I do not 'know' it!" And, for some reason, it was nearly three years before I could fully understand it.

     Jeremiah said, "The Lord doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men." David said, "Before I was afflicted I went astray," and again, "It is good for me that I have been afflicted, that I might learn thy statutes." Anything, therefore, is "good" that enlarges the vision, mellows the spirit, broadens our sympathies and weans us from earthly things. Millions of saints have been comforted by reading of the patience of job, the Psalms of David and the Lamentations of Jeremiah. But we never would have had these had it not been for afflictions, privations and persecutions. "Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?"

     During those long nights, weeks and months, I frequently took the street car, when no one knew where I was going, and went out to the cemetery where I threw myself over her grave, in soul anguish. I prayed to God. I called to her by name. "I must have help! Some one please explain to me this mysterious providence." After receiving temporary comfort from "Him who comforts us in all our tribulation," I reluctantly returned to the place I once called home, where I resumed my many duties and responsibilities.

     I entered into a new consecration, namely: If we could not be reunited here, I would plunge into the work God had given me and soon meet her "over there." I decided never to think of another one being capable of taking her place, so made plans to quit, or turn over the Training Home to others, and give myself up fully as a single man to do evangelistic work. In this way, thought 1,1 can get away from these familiar, sad scenes and surroundings.

     But, to my surprise and the surprise of others, God had another plan. Without looking around, yea, without even thinking of anyone, while in prayer for the salvation of souls, another beautiful character was presented to my mind. At first I could not believe it. I could not harmonize such a thought with my consecration to go through life a sad and single man. In due time, when some of my closest friends were apprised of the thought, they could not understand how a man could have such tender love for the departed and yet think of another. I could not explain it myself, for it seemed unreasonable. But even now, after nearly thirty years, I am convulsed with tears as I dictate this story.

     And what was the sad and yet glorious lesson for me to learn? It seems it was this: Previous to this bereavement I was known as a radical, severe, holiness preacher. I was called upon to deal with stubborn and hard cases. I had the gift of showing up their meanness and depravity, until they either got right or got out. Yes, I was a "bonescraper," but did not have enough oil to pour into the wounds. I could easily cut the cancer out, but sometimes the patient died in the operation. It seemed that it took this severe blow to make me not only a straight preacher, but a tender preacher, not only a self-sacrificing man, but a sympathetic man. My first companion was a molder; my second companion has been a mellower. One was a mighty pulpit orator, capable of exposing all kinds of wickedness. The other was not only a preacher, but a pathetic writer, who has blessed thousands by her voluminous pen. Surely I ought to be a good man, yes, I must be a good man. I had a wonderful little Dutch mother. She was very strict along lines of purity, economy, and veracity. Later, I have lived with two most wonderful women -- above the average. So, if I have made the least success, it is due principally to grace, a wonderful mother and two godly companions.