T H E K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S
48
capable of thinking up the great va riety of pranks that we boys engaged In. I can see the look of shocked be wilderment on his face; now — of amazement that anybody would act as We did. Binns had heard Moody preach, years earlier, in London, and the com passion of the evangelist seemed to have been communicated to the then young Australian lad. He loved the Bible with a deep reverence. Even though he knew little of its dispen- sational significance, he implemented with his own holy life, the truths that he drew from the Word of God. Each year, he arranged for an evan gelistic meeting, called a' “mission,” to be held in his church. Throughout the year, preparatory to those days of ’special effort in winning souls to Christ, he would meet with members of his flock personally, never under circumstances embarrassing to them, and would urge upon them their need of-the Saviour. He usually began by inviting his hearers to “join the church,” but under his guidance, this step never could be taken thought lessly. On one of these friendly .calls, he approached a sister of mine. “My child,” he said kindly, “ aren’t you about ready to join the church?” “Oh, Mr. Binns, no!” she returned. “ I’m not, good enough,” (I would not have ventured such a comment, nor would any one have believed me if I had!) “ You’ll never be good enough,” he explained in even tones. “ Nobody is. . Nobody can be. Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners." And -he went on with a discussion of sin and salvation, so clear and convinc ing that even a child could grasp it. . As the years drew on, one after another of my brothers and; sisters responded to this personal dealing \vith them, surrendered their lives to Christ’s control, and identified them selves with the church. I have heard that conversion, with some people, is like the flashing of a meteor in a dark night; with others, it is the ra diance in a cloudless sky, caused by the unspectacular return of another, morning. In either case, it is God’s miracle. There was no quiet “ dawn” ex perience ir my life, nor in the lives of Jim or Will, of whom I shall speak later. When Christ saved us, there seemed to be brought into play a mighty rush of His great power. We resisted Him logger than the others did. Actually, the death of Christ was ho more efficacious for us than ror those who received Him without struggle, or vice versa. Each of us was saved—as every soul must be— by placing personal faith in 'the aton ing work of Christ as set forth m
against spending all day Sunday in the church., But I knew, even then, that the practice of going was a good one. And because my mother’s order was backed up with prayer on my be half, God hallowed her discipline. I be lieve it is always thus: ,when church attendance is a formal command, there is no good in it. But when there is any genuine desire for the win ning for Christ of a human personal ity, God will use every means toward that accomplishment. A few years ago, I took my wife and two daughters to Australia for a visit, and we went to the old church that I had attended as a boy. The building was empty, for no service was scheduled for that hour. I had not been inside those doors for twenty- odd years. I was surprised to find that it was so small a place, accom modating less than 1,000 .persons. To my boyish mind, it had seemed vastly larger. Slowly we walked‘ down the aisle between massive pews. “Here,” I said with a rush of pride, “ is where we sat. This is our family pew.” The girls stepped in and sat down. Presently my older daughter, who was fifteen at the time, looked up at me, humiliation written large across her face. “Why, Daddy,” she breathed, “this is awful!” Her fingers touched the pew in front of ours. There, deeply gouged from the b e a u t i f u l oak were my name and initials, and those of my contemporaries. There was nothing artistic about the work, Speed ■and fierceness had evidently entered into the execution of it. Shame swept over me. “ Yes,” I said, “ it is awful.” To think that any child would thus desecrate the house of God! But in that moment I saw some thing else, a mighty drama of sub stitution. I had been ' held, often against my will, under holy influ ences, and through the -unfathomable mercy of God, my life had emerged without the marring, scarring, deep wounds that would surely have come had I been allowed to take my fling in the world. • The habit of going to the house of God did not save me, nor could it; nothing but the regenerating power of Jesus Christ could do that. Church attendance did not even better my nature one iota. But it did keep from my life a thousand evils that could have dragged me to the pit. Remember: I was a brewer’s boy. I was a headstrong youngster. In the pews’ of the old Sydney church is a record of the wonderful grace of God. That ■record spells out this truth: “ Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today, and for ever . . . MIGHTY TO SAVE.” (To be continued)
God’s Word, without; emotion or lack of it. It was apart from the old pastor and the influences of his church that, we three, at different times, made the ultimate decision to yield all to Christ. But Fred Binns nevertheless had a part in those later transactions. Throughout my growing years he had on occasions talked to me; but for a long time I made a game of evad ing him. Faithful pastor that ho was, he “planted” and “watered.” As a public speaker, probably he would have been rated as undistin guished. Even as a Soul-winner, he was not always successful, as men count success. But Christ possessed all there was of him, and in His own time and way He gave the “ increase” in spiritual fruitfulness. I have been a pastor, now, for many years. Often as I look over my congregation I realize that, like Fred. Binns, I have no personal great ness. But I pray that to me, as to my old pastor, there may be givten su«h a love for the souls of boys and girls and men and women that all their waywardness will, but increase my zeal- in witnessing to them of Christ’s power. The Restraint of Church Attendance Not only the ministrations of a devout pastor, but also the require ment ' o f regular •church attendance cast a . needed restraint upon my young life. My mother decreed that w e’ should go to church and Sunday- school regularly, and although Father did not often join her there. he upheld her decision. In Australia, in my youth, the whole Sunday was given to the church. We went to Sunday-school twice each Sunday, morning and afternoon, be: sides attending two church services. Sunday-school was all that the name “ school” implies. We w e r e given verses of Scripture to memorize and hymns to learn, and if the work was not done properly, a report of the failure was sent to the home. We used to -sing a- song about heaven, “where the Sabbaths never end,” and I determined vehemently I would not go there. I have heard men say that parental strictness in matters of religion can be a damning thing. No one ever rebelled more violently than I did
Shame swept over me
Made with FlippingBook flipbook maker