Come ye a fte r m e , and I w i l l m ake yo u to become fishers of men (M a r k 1 : 1 7 ) P E R SONAL SOUL WINNI by Robert G. Lee
T h e greatest sit- down strike in the world has not been staged by some labor union in some industrial or manufacturing plant, but in our churches by those who claim to be saved—and yet have never become fishers of men. Many who love Jesus, do not seem to love Him enough to make any special personal effort to get others to give Him their hands and hearts in repentance and faith for salvation. Personal soul-winning makes us do as Jesus did. If we would be like Jesus, we must be personal soul-winners. The soul-saving passion dominated the life of Jesus. The redemption of poor sinners was more to Jesus than the glory He had with God before the world was, for He emptied Himself of it all—more to Him than the joys of heaven, for He left those joys to become “a man of sor rows”—more to Him than life, for He said: “I lay down my life”—more to Him than the shining of the Father’s countenance, for He willingly leaped into the awful abyss of wrath and gloom from the depths of which He cried, “My God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Soul-winning was the life-business of Jesus. In what sense is a man a follower of Jesus who does not give his life to that which Jesus gave His life? The example Jesus left us to walk in His steps teaches us that in soul-winning we can have no proxy—cannot transfer this obligation to some evangelist. The chief method of Jesus was the method of individ ual evangelism. To Jesus a single soul was a great audi ence. On nineteen different occasions, Jesus sat down and taught one person—just one. He used the line as often as He used the seine or net. “The day following Jesus would go forth into Galilee, and findeth Philip, and saith unto him, Follow me” (John 1:43). That shows us Jesus seeking one man—just one. John 4 shows us Jesus—who often ran from cities, who often evaded great throngs—winning one woman. Luke 19 is a vivid picture of how Jesus won a rich man to faith in him— and to salvation glorious. And that vivid painting is autographed with these words from Jesus: “The Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost” (Luke 19:10). This makes us ask, “What should we do?” As to indi vidual evangelism, we should do as Jesus did—be fishers of men. And we learn by doing. The best modem methods in which present-day educators take such pride are better exemplified in Jesus than in Teachers’ College, Columbia University.
The learner can learn only by actually doing. Anything else is like learning to swim by keeping away from the water—like learning to harvest a crop by mere knowl edge that there is a harvest—like learning to be a blacksmith by reading poetry about the village smithy. If a boy is to learn how to make a table — he must actually begin to make a table. When fishermen are Sent to the river to fish—they fish. When nurses are sent to a hospital to nurse— they nurse. When painters are sent to a house to paint—they paint. When soldiers are sent to the battle to fight — they fight. But too often when we are sent into the world to win men we sing “Throw Out the Lifeline,” but do not throw. We sing “I Love to Tell the Story” ■— and do not tell it. We sing in jubilant chorus: “Rescue the Perishing” — and our rescue work is woefully lacking in concern and our lack of rescue makes our lives perjure the words of our mouths. The greatest sit-down strike in all the world is not enacted by some labor union but by Christians—when it comes to personal visitation for the purpose of winning the lost, when it comes to individual Christian’s work for the individual man who is unsaved. In our Christian zeal we do as someone said of Mr. Wordsworth: “Some times he made his poetic eagle do the work of a clucking hen.” As a consequence, the unsaved all around us can say, “No man cared for my soul.” Would that it were known of us in our churches what was said of Mr. Wesley:. “He was out of breath pursuing souls.” We should have and manifest the passion for souls which Whitefield had who said: “I am willing to go to prison and to death for you, but I am not willling to go to heaven without you.” We need the passion that girded Francis Asbury as he traveled a distance equal to five circuits around the world every five years, on the average for forty-five ye,ars, and that mainly on horseback. We need the passion that fired Livingstone and kept him aflame amid jungle dangers and twenty-seven attacks of African fever—the passion that was the power working in the heart of John Brainerd, who said: “I care not what hardships I endure, if only I can see souls saved”— the passion that drove General Booth who, with a vision of the poor of London and what Christ could mean to their lives, said: “God shall have all there is of William Booth.” The third question we ask is, “How shall we become good fishermen?” (continued on next page)
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THE KING'S BUSINESS
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