Ours is a redemptive ministry. People are lost — tragically, hopelessly, eternally lost apart from Christ. The fires of evangelistic fervor must burn within our hearts if we are to be “obedient to the heavenly vision” . Where will you go? You will go where God leads! Nothing else matters. There are no home or foreign fields in His vision—there is but one pitiful, perishing, lost world for which Christ died. How will He lead you? In ways past finding out. I did not dream when He called me out of a factory in a small Canadian town that He would lead me through Bible Institute, college and seminary, that He would one day place me in a grpat church of over 3,000 members almost in the shadow of the nation’s capital, at the crossroads of the world, where multitudes pass by. I would have laughed in those days if I had been told that one day I would stand in the private office of the President of the United States and introduce to him over thirty Baptist missionaries. The work in Washington has not been easy—who would have it so? One conviction has been in our hearts ever since we went there; we believe we are in the place where God would have us be. It matters little whether the place be great or small, whether it be near or afar off, but pray earnestly that it may be God’s place for you. If I could Live my life over again, I should ask noth ing better than to be permitted to be the humble pastor of a New Testament Baptist Church! About three years ago, one of the greatest preachers in our generation was called to be with Christ. For well over forty years, he was pastor of the First Baptist Church in Dallas, Texas. Under his ministry, the church grew from a membership of about 300 to over 7,000. He preached to multiplied thousands of people, sometimes to over 10,000 at a time. His silvery hair, his clear ring ing voice with its pathos and appeal, his serious, earnest countenance, were known far and wide. He was a mighty preacher of the Gospel. When the call of God came to George W. Truett as a young man, he went out at night, and on his face in the cotton patch, he fought out the struggle and won the victory. In the morning he entered the kitchen and said to his mother, "Mother, it is all settled. God wants me to preach, and with His help I must do it.” In the cot ton patch that night he had prayed, “Thy will be done.” When at last he came to the end of the way, he was looked upon as the first citizen of Dallas. All the city lined the streets at his funeral. Over the casket was a beautiful floral tribute bearing the words, “Thy will be done.” *Recently a picture concerning his life has been pro duced. It is a beautiful thing. No actors had any part-in it. It simply contains a series of brief real life scenes of the great preacher, but to me the most significant, thing in it all is in the prologue. The film is called “The Greatest Achievement.” The prologue reads like this: To know the will of God: This is the Greatest Knowledge. To find the will of God: This is the Greatest Discovery. To do the will of God: This is the Greatest Achievement. A great first century preacher said, “I was not dis obedient unto the heavenly vision.” A great twentieth century preacher prayed, “Thy will be done,” arid God was honored and the world blessed through their lives. O men and women of the Biola Graduating Class of 1947, I know of nothing greater to desire on your behalf than that you do the trill of God, for this is the greatest achievement! T H E K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S
O urs I s a R i : di : mptive M inistry For me He died on the mountain, For me they pierced His side, For me He opened the fountain, The crimson cleansing tide.
The world is sick unto death! It’s dread disease has brought it prostrate in defeat and despair. Sin is mighty—mighty enough to drive Adam and Eve out of Eden, mighty enough to curse the whole race of men, mighty enough to cause the nation of Israel to fail and fall, mighty enough to make a drunkard out of Noah, a suicide out of Saul, an adulterer out of David, an idolater out of Ahab, a beast out of Herod, mighty enough to empty heaven of its glory when Jesus came to Bethle hem, mighty enough to nail Him to a cross and crush out His life-—mighty, yes, but not as mighty as He. There is a fountain filled with blood, Drawn from Immanuel’s veins, And sinners plunged beneath that flood, Lose all their guilty stains. I baptized, on their profession of faith, two men who were prisoners in the convict camp of the county. Their guards stood by during the service and when it was over put the irons on them again, and took them back to serve out their time, but they were saved, saved by grace, and they gladly' gave their testimony to their fellow pris oners. I baptized a young man who had been a boot legger and a drunkard, but Christ had saved him. After ten years or more, I saw him again. He and his wife are active, happy Christians today. But sin does not yield easily. I was hoiding a series of evangelistic meetings in my own church in Gaines ville, Georgia, a number of years ago. We were holding early morning services as well as the services at night. The attendance was wonderful; great interest was mani fested. Hands were raised for prayer; people promised to make decisions soon, yet Monday, Tuesday, Wednes day, and Thursday, passed without a single profession of faith. My heart was heavy. After the evening service, I went to the phone and called our Sunday school su perintendent. I asked him what he was doing and he said, “Just sitting here on the porch.” I said, “Can I come and see you?” and he replied, “Come right on over.” I cannot recall any time in my life when the bur den for the lost rested more strongly upon me. I could not speak. Tears rained down my face. He put his arm around my shoulders and said, “What is it, Pastor? I know something is burdening you." I replied, “Why is it that with so many attending our services, and so much interest on every hand, that we have not had any pro fessions of faith?” He said, “I do not know, but I was sitting here and wondering about it myself. Maybe we haven’t prayed enough. What do you want me to do?” I said, “Let’s pray together.” In the darkness of the front room, we knelt and prayed. Then we sat there on the floor, and talked of the ones about whom we were concerned, and about our church and its needs. Then again we prayed. At last we arose, long past midnight. He said, “Pastor, the burden has left my soul. I believe God is going to bless us.” The next morning in the serv ice, no sooner had the invitation been given than a high school girl in the choir burst into tears, and came for ward to accept Christ. Another girl from the congrega tion came to join her in the profession of faith. But that night when we rose to sing the invitation song, fully a dozen men and women came crowding down the aisles. Before the meetings were ended, we baptized over forty people. Sin is strong. The victory is not easily won. It means blood, and sweat, and tears! Truly, “This kind goeth not out but by prayer” ! Page Twelve
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