How can a church be thus instruct ed and inspired? Here are a few sug gestions: Let the pastor himself first be “sold" on the value and challenge of world-wide missions; arrange for as many missionary speakers as possible, representatives of all the fields of the world; maintain a mis sionary library and a museum of mis sionary curios; urge the church members to subscribe to missionary magazines; display missionary post ers and hang in your auditorium a missionary service flag; at the holi day season, let all the church mem bers participate in filling a mission ary box; promote missions in the Sunday school, even among the very young children; place a well-painted missionary thermometer in your au ditorium, showing the extent of your missionary gifts; appoint a mission ary treasurer, and, above all, do not limit the giving of your people to the work of one board. Encourage them to have a part in missionary enter prises the world over. The results from such a program can hardly be estimated. Not only will your own people grow, but the work at home will thrive beyond your fondest expectations. More than that, the will of God for this particu lar age will be fulfilled in the lives of the pastor and members. ☆ King'8 Business Free Fund ■J^ACH month there comes to our desk a number of requests from missionaries and other Christians, telling us of their desire to receive The King’s Business, but stating that for one reason or another, they are unable to pay for their subscriptions. Recently several such letters were re ceived from pensioners, who explain that their modest stipend does not permit their spending money on lit erature, even though they want the magazine very much. Many mission aries find it impossible to stretch their small salaries to cover sub scriptions to Christian magazines; therefore, they have to be deprived of the practical suggestions and in spirational and devotional helps they contain. Then, too, there are many service men and women in the armed forces to whom Christian literature would be most welcome. For some time The King’s Business has maintained a Free Fund, the pur pose of which is to pay for subscrip tions to the worthy ones described above who cannot afford them. Those who are seeking new uses for their tithes will make a real contribution to Christian work by sending their offerings to the King’s Business Free Fund.
T f t t f
By ROCKWELL D. HUNT, Ph. D.
T h e follow ing tribute from the distinguished Dean K m e rltu t of the O raduate School of the U n iv e rsity of Southern California appeared In the Loc Angeles Tim e s of October 20, 1946. Not only will It recall bleaeed memoriae to those who received th e ir firs t spiritual teaching In Ilka humble, hallowed surroundings, but it w ill also bring encouragem ent to those consecrated, but obscure, servants of God who still labor in the achoothoUse churches and Sunday schools of our land.
snugly in mother’s striped shawl and laid upon the desk—there were no pews—to sleep through the ser mon, only to be cruelly awakened during the singing of the final stanza of the closing hymn, Just before the benediction. A D evoted M an The preacher was not a college man; he knew little of the theologi cal seminaries, and had never heard of sociology; no great city church had ever sought his services. But he was a devoted minister of the Gospel; sure of his message; bold to de nounce sin and exhort to duty and righteousness; abundant in sacrifice and in human sympathy. He would drive a dozen miles to participate in a church “sociable" or to bestow comfort (Many a chicken dinner did my mother prepare for him!) To baptize children, marry the young, visit the sick, and bury the dead, he labored in season and out of season. My covered-wagon pioneer mother was one of the most faithful of the faithful band. Compelled to witness young boys being soiled and ruined by the grogshop (appropriately called “dead-fall” ) across the way from the blacksmith shop, she was determined to save her boys from the curse of drink and impurity. H ope W as R evived It seemed an unequal struggle— for the saloon was always open wide. But mother love and holy determina tion found a grateful ally in the little church and its hard-working pastor. Hope was revived, the soul was heart ened, the contest nobly sustained— and faith gave the victory. My mother has long since entered into rest. Of her seven sons but three remain, each striving in his own way to live the life of sobriety and use fulness. And this is my humble trib ute to the little schoolhouse church of my early childhood days—it helped at least one devoted mother in her high purpose to keep faith, stand true, and rear her sons in integrity and honor, in the Christian way. PAGE FIVE
rpHE church was really not a church -*•at all, but a little district school- house, a mile from home. Nor was the town really a town—not even a village — but just a little farming country settlement, which could boast its blacksmith, boot and shoemaker, innkeeper and—apparently most con sequential of all—grocer, postmaster and saloonkeeper all combined in one pompous personage. This was about 70 years ago. At the center was the great 120-foot liberty pole, surmounted by its curi ous red weathercock, with the flag flying on special days, standing as the pride and wonder of us boys, as well as the landmark to the farming settlers for miles roundabout, faith fully locating dear tiny Freeport, sit uated on the east bank of the Sacra mento River, eight miles south of the capital city of California, my native state. P reaching F ortnightly Freeport was one of the four ap pointments on the Methodist circuit. In the little schoolhouse, by the side of the road a full mile north of the flagpole, preaching service was held fortnightly—there was Sunday school every week; and well do I remember the consecrated superintendent. The church membership in those days quite certainly never numbered more than a dozen adults; sermons were sometimes preached to congre gations of six or seven of the faith ful; but more commonly the room was comfortably filled with rural folk, including a good many children. F am ily E xpedition It was customary then for families t o ' go to church together. Many a Sunday morning my father’s capa cious spring wagon, drawn by a span of well-trained horses, carried from 12 to 15 children, gathered up from the neighborhood, bound for the Western Union schoolhouse. One of my childhood’s earliest recollections is that of my chubby, curly-headed baby brother, wrapped
MARCH, 1947
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