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T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
August, 1935
the whole human race—and brought the kitten home and gave it to the little girl. The little girl spent a week or two with the new kitten. But the grandmother said to the little girl, “My dear, you are not acting right about this. You had that common kitten off the street, and then it dis appeared. And you grieved over it, and I bought you this beautiful Persian kitten, and you still seem to be grieving. You are not happy over this new kitten.” And the little girl swallowed a lump in her throat and said, “But, Grandma, you don’t seem to understand. It is the inside of a kitten that counts.” And it is the inside of a preacher that counts. It is the inside of a Christian worker that counts. It is not what you say, or how marvelously you say it; it is not what the members of the congregation think of you as you stand be fore them to Speak or testify. It is what you are. U nconventional , Y et S uccessful I learned that truth several years ago as a young Chris tian worker when I helped in some meetings with the pastor of a church in the East. I was young in Christian work then. He asked me to help him. We took turns speaking for ten days or two weeks in his church. It was in a section of the city where another race had moved in, and all the former churches in that district except his had closed, but his church had gone on growing.during the years. I sat there in amazement as I heard him preach. (He was prob ably just as amazed as he heard me,) I never met a man who knew as little about preaching as that man did, and yet received a salary for preaching. He broke every law of homiletics every time he opened his mouth. He cared nothing about his appearance. I saw him preach one night when his collar came off on one side and stuck up at a sharp angle. But he did not pay any attention. I do not think he had a suit pressed from the time he got it until he discarded it. I wondered how that mail had gone on all these years—how he had a growing church in that section of the city. One night after he had preached and I had sat there
things should produce the best results in character. We should be the best people on the face of the earth. We should be fundamentalists in our personal lives. Are there fundamentalists who lie, who are dishonest, and others who are unkind and critical and cruel and crooked in their judgments and in their dealings with others ? Such a situa tion is a tragedy. When in a certain house there lives a fundamental believer, a man outstanding so far as faith is concerned, some one who believes all the Bible and knows a great deal about the Bible, it is a tragedy if next door is the follower of some false cult—Eddyism or Unity or some thing else-—-an individual who nevertheless manifests in character a poise and power and seemingly a peace that this orthodox believer does not possess. I say it is a tragedy. It is a t'ragedy when our orthodox groups are divided and separated and quarreling and split over nonessentials and unimportant things. Are we not taught to believe in contending for the faith ? Oh, yes. But there are some Christian workers who dd not know the difference between contending for the faith and contending with the faithful, and who think that “contend” is the place of emphasis! Some followers of isms have one verse of Scripture, “God is love.” And there are some fundamentalists who have one verse of Scripture, “Contend” ; and their whole life is built on contention. There is a place to contend, no doubt, but we have divided churches and ruined testimonies because we have majored in contending instead of majoring in the faith, contending for the faith—the faith that is lived out in the personal life. The world around us, the world outside, is saying, “Except I shall see the print of the nails, except I shall see the marks of a crucified Christ, I will not believe.” W ha t t h e W orld R eally N eeds What is your ambition for the future, young Christian worker? Do you want to be a great preacher? Do you want to be a great missionary ? Do you long to be a success ful servant of the Lord? If that is your ambition, please give up that desire at once. It is much better to be a great
wondering at it all—-I knew he was a man of God, and I knew God was using him even as he stumbled on, trying to p reach — a man came up to me and said, “Mr. Houghton, I know, you are won,- d e rin g abou t our pastor. Lean tell you som e th ing that will give you a little in fo rm a tio n abou t him and perhaps the secret of it all. My wife was a member of
Christian than to be a great preacher. I do not think the world needs great preachers. I think the world needs some great Christians who really know the Lord Jesus, a living Lord, Christians who will recogn ize ‘that they have been cruci fied with Him and whowill identify them-, selves with Him day by day. The world needs some g re a t Christian living.
this church, but I wasn’t a Christian, I attended for several years occasionally, but I wasn’t a saved man. One day I had occasibn to go to the pastor’s house to ask him about something. I was told he would be down in a few minutes. As I sat there, I thought: When the pastor comes down stairs,, the first thing he is going to say to me is, ‘Brother, arejypjU :saved this morning?’ ’That was his greeting to everybody, the groceryman, the iceman, the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker—he greeted them all in that fashion. And a voice inside said; ‘What will you say ?’ I thought, I will have to say, ‘No, I am not saved.’ That voice said, ‘You can be saved.’ And the first thing I knew; [ Continued , on . page 290] Courtesy, Sunset
I remember the story a friend told me of a little five- year-old girl who one day came into the house hugging to, her breast a kitten she had picked up out in the street. No one owned it, and she had just gathered up the kitten and brought it home. And how that little girl loved that kitten! And the little kitten seemed to respond. ;For two weeks they were great chums, and then the kitten disappeared and was gone for a week, then two weeks, and the little girl grieved. One day the grandmother said, “I can’t stand this any longer—that child’s grief over that little kitten.” The grandmother went down town to a pet store and bought a beautiful Persian kitten—-one of those beautiful, silky, yet proud, disdainful creatures that look with condescension on
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