RAY'S CONFESSION OF CHRIST.
The First Church bell tolled loudly for the six o'clock prayer and
praise service the next Sunday evening. As the last stroke sounded Mr.
Carleton came rapidly in, and took his place at the desk in the main
lecture room, looking down with cheerful face at the large congregation
before him. How full the room was! Not only the usual attendants, but
such a number of unaccustomed ones were there. In the very first seat
at the right of the centre aisle sat Ray Branford, and beside him his
sister-in-law. In the very first seat on the left was Dr. Gasque and
his wife. Back near the door was young Harry Gasque, the dissipated son
of the doctor, with quite a crowd of his immediate associates. Then
scattered here and there were many of the young people from the Black
Forge Mills. Mr. Carleton's heart rejoiced to see them all, and he said
to himself, "The cold ice of indifference which has so long surrounded
us is surely yielding; now may it melt entirely away under the warm
influence of God's love."
He had a way of conducting that hour of service that was peculiarly his
own. From the moment he entered the desk he never sat down, but with
song book in hand, and Bible in easy reach, he stood marshaling his
people throughout the service as a general might marshal his forces.
"We will sing 'The light of the World is Jesus,'" he said; and the
organist struck the first notes. Then the room rang with a chorus of
voices. When three verses of that hymn had been sung, he announced
another familiar one, and then another, until fifteen minutes had been
spent in singing the praise of God. Scarcely had the last note of the
last hymn ended, when a short prayer followed, direct, simple, as
though it were conversation with one close at hand, and ready to grant
every request. A short Scripture lesson was then impressively read, and
another hymn sung. Twenty minutes of the hour was now used. "Now let
us have a few brief prayers," he suggested; "who will be the first to
lead our thoughts upward to the throne?" One after another the brethren
knelt, until twelve short fervent supplications had been offered, amid
a stillness which was almost oppressive. Then another hymn was sung,
and the pastor announced: "We now have twenty minutes for testimony.
Who will be the first to speak of God's love?"
Ray Branford, to the amazement of all, was the first to speak. "I want
to tell you to-night," he said, "that I love Jesus. He has forgiven me
my sins, and I have consecrated my life to him. Will you pray that in
all my discouraging surroundings I may never once dishonor his name?"
The hushed silence that followed was broken by the voice of Dr. Gasque.
Stepping to the front of the desk, he turned around and faced the
congregation, saying: "My friends, you all know me. You know how for
years I have lived among you an ungodly and self-righteous man. I had a
Christian father and mother, and for years they prayed for their only
son, but he was unsaved. God gave me a dear Christian wife, and I saw
before me daily the proofs of Christ's redeeming and sanctifying power;
but I still closed my eyes to the truth, and refused to believe. But
last Friday evening that boy," pointing to Ray Branford, "asked me a
question that broke through the armor of my unbelief and pierced me
to the heart. He, as some of you may know, came up to the town after
me for a sick neighbor. Not finding me at home, he dropped into your
prayer meeting here to pass away the hour until I came. Here words were
spoken which God used to touch his heart. He came out from this house
stirred to his very soul and got into my buggy, and together we rode
toward the Forge.
"'Dr. Gasque, what is it to be a Christian?' he suddenly asked me. I
saw he was thoroughly in earnest, and I dared not counsel him wrongly.
'Suppose it was your own boy asking that question?' rang in my ears. I
was compelled to be honest, and replied, 'I do not know.'
"His next question staggered me, it was so unexpected. 'If there is
anything in Christianity at all,' he asked, 'ought not a man who is
constantly with those who are passing into eternity to know something
about it himself that he might tell others?' I saw myself and my
responsibility to God as never before, and for a time I knew not what
to answer. At length I said, condemning myself thereby, 'I suppose he
ought.' But the boy had another question ready. 'How would you settle
such a question?' he inquired. I thought of my old father's words,
and replied: 'I would go directly to Jesus.' Then we parted, but as
I bent over the sick man I had been called to see, and realized that
no human power could save him, the boy's question came back to me
with renewed force. I drove home, but it never left me. I entered my
room, but it was with me still. I saw I was a sinner, hopelessly lost
without the mercy of Christ. I awoke my wife. I asked her to pray for
me, and kneeling there by her side I found peace. I, too, confess here
to-night, that I love Christ, and have consecrated my life to him. Pray
for me."
Those who have witnessed similar scenes will readily understand the
spirit of that meeting for the rest of the hour. Mrs. Casque arose and
repeated the divine words: "It shall come to pass, that before they
call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear."
Then another and another followed until the tolling bell indicated
that it was time for the evening preaching service.
"I cannot help feeling that there may be some one here to-night," said
Mr. Carleton, in closing, "who may desire Jesus for their friend.
If so, will you rise upon your feet." Immediately Ray Branford's
sister-in-law arose, saying, briefly: "I want to be a Christian." Was
that all? No; away back near the door a young man arose, and in a clear
ringing voice, he said: "To-night I believe in a Saviour; to-night for
the first time in my life I desire to be a Christian. I have been wild
and dissolute and wicked. Is there hope for such a one as I am?" It
was Harry Gasque, and the appealing look upon his face touched all who
beheld it.
Then Mr. Carleton took those two convicted souls to the mercy seat.
Tenderly, lovingly he presented their cases, and asked that for Jesus'
sake they might now be forgiven. What if the church bell was tolling
for the next service: these two sin-convicted souls hung in the
balance, and until they found life he must wrestle with God. Finally
they arose from their knees, and the congregation was dismissed, but
the son could lay his hand in that of his father and confidently
affirm, "Your Saviour is my Saviour too," while the longing, wistful
look had left the tear-stained face of the penitent woman, and in its
place there had come one of perfect peace.
Of course, that night's incidents were talked about. All Afton
was busy with them for the next few days. And just here a strange
perverseness of human nature cropped out. There was Doctor Gasque, a
man who had not been inside of a meeting house for years; who had been
an acknowledged skeptic; who on his own confession had been exceedingly
self-righteous; and there was his son Harry, wild, dissolute, and
dissipated; yet no one doubted their conversion. "It is so wonderful,"
they said. "I am so glad for Mrs. Gasque." "What Christians they will
make!" "What a help to the First Church!" "What influence they will
have!"--and a dozen other equally pleased expressions passed from
lip to lip. Nor would I for one moment say they were undeserved. But
the Branfords! Well, there were Mr. Carleton and Miss Squire, and
old Deacon Blake, and Mr. Bacon and others, who believed that their
conversion was real, and hailed with delight what they believed to be
an indication that the reformation of the Black Forge people was at
hand. There were others, however, good church people, too, who shrugged
their shoulders when Ray and his sister-in-law were mentioned, and
said: "I presume we must receive them into the church, of course;
but they'll never be any help to us, and very likely they will have
to be disciplined before a great while." Others shook their heads
forebodingly, saying: "If I were Mr. Carleton, I should wait awhile
before I was so sure that those Branfords were converted: they are a
hard set."
Then there were others who shook out the folds of their silks, and
said, complacently:
"Really, I don't know what the First Church is coming to. Mr. Grundy
and I don't propose to mix with the Black Forge people. We haven't
been accustomed to associate with such people, and if the First Church
insists on that rabble coming in, we shall take our letters to the
Central Church. Dr. Lightfoot is as fine a preacher as Mr. Carleton,
and the people there are so much more select."
Don't think, dear reader, I have exaggerated this thing at all. For
a good many years I have been a church member, and acquainted with
nearly every phase of Christian work; and I assert, without fear of
contradiction, that there is in many of our churches a spirit which
seeks after those who may be a _financial_ and _social_ help to the
church, while the masses are either neglected or looked upon with
disfavor. Many Christians still need a special vision and a voice from
heaven, saying: "What God hath cleansed, that call not thou common,"
before they can understand that "God is no respecter of persons."
In the case of Ray Branford, however it may be elsewhere, these things
I have written were actually said. It is a veritable history I am
writing. Did Ray know of these things? Yes; there are always some in
a community who feel called upon to report to those concerned all
they hear about them. Did this drive Ray away from the First Church?
No; and for two reasons. There were two traits in his character which
enabled him to rise above the most exasperating things said about him.
First, he felt so exceedingly unworthy of the gift of salvation, and
was so amazed at its bestowment upon him, that he did not wonder that
others doubted that he had really received it. Then, too, he had in
his make-up a bit of that obstinacy which, when he knew what his duty
was, led him, like Luther, to do it, though a thousand popes stood in
the way. But this combination of traits is exceedingly rare; and what
proved to be an incentive to him has deterred many another from doing
what was known to be duty.
The actual result from this display of human prejudice was not,
however, so disastrous in other respects as might have been
anticipated. Satan sometimes overreaches himself, and it proved to be
so in this instance. The sudden manifestation of God's grace on that
memorable evening did not as suddenly depart. Rather it increased in
power. It pervaded the Sunday-school; it entered the homes of the
congregation; it even extended to the Black Forge Mission; and before
spring came, more than a hundred had confessed Jesus as Saviour and
Lord.
Early in the new year, Ray Branford and others appeared before the
First Church committee as candidates for admission to the church.
That committee was composed of wise and judicious men--men who loved
Christ with all their hearts, and were anxious that all who would
might come unto him. They felt, as Ray related his experience, that
he gave unmistakable evidence of the Spirit's work in his heart; and
without the slightest hesitation they recommended him to the church as
one worthy of a place in its membership. When this became known, the
tongues of the gossips were again set in motion, and rumor soon had
it that, at the preparatory service, opposition would be made to his
reception. This was enough to fill the main lecture room to overflowing
when that evening came.
Ray's relation of his experience was clear, and to the unprejudiced,
convincing; but when he had retired, and opportunity was given for
remark, a brother rose, and said:
"I do not want it understood, brethren, that I actually object to this
lad, or deny that he is a Christian; but he is young, his surroundings
are all against him, and I question whether we had not better wait
awhile before we receive him. If he is truly a Christian, it won't make
any difference; if he is not, it will be a great deal better to wait."
Then he sat down.
Mr. Carleton sprang to his feet.
"Will the brother give his Scriptural authority for such a course?" he
asked.
There was an ominous silence.
"I insist upon it," Mr. Carleton said; "let the brother tell us
where in all of God's word he gets his authority for his position.
I admit this boy's life has not been all we could wish; I admit his
surroundings are all evil. But to my mind that furnishes all the
greater reason why this church, if satisfied he has been redeemed,
should throw around him her love, her protection, and her care."
"Why," stammered the brother, "I don't know as there is any Scripture
that bears on the case, but I think there are times when we should be
cautious in receiving members for the good name of the church, and that
no reproach be cast upon the cause of Christ."
"We should always exercise proper caution in coming to a decision as to
one's regeneration," said the pastor; "but once satisfied that a person
is regenerated, there is but one course open to us, and that is, to
receive him and help him in the new life he has begun. Brother Bacon,
you see more of this lad than the rest of us; do you think his life
gives evidence of his conversion?"
Mr. Bacon arose, and said:
"I have watched him closely from the night he stood and confessed his
Saviour. I do see every evidence of a change in him. For my own part, I
have no hesitancy, as one of the examining committee, in recommending
him to this church as a suitable candidate for baptism."
"Is there any one else who can throw any light on this subject?" asked
Mr. Carleton.
The tall, lank form of Jacob Woodhull slowly rose. Though a very
eccentric man, he had been for years a member of the church, and a
constant attendant upon its services, but seldom took part in its
deliberations. His rising then filled all with surprise.
"Brethren," he said, "I was here the night that boy first spoke for
Jesus. I went out from that meeting and talked as hard against him as
any one. You see it has always been a notion of mine that a repentant
person should go back to the very beginning of his evil course,
and repair so far as possible the injuries he may have done. If I
understand the Bible it teaches this. So I argued, if this boy is
really changed, he'll own up to me some of those rascally scrapes he's
been in, down at my farm. I kept my notion to myself, but I just talked
against the boy, and I said it will take a powerful sight to make me
believe he is converted. You see I kinder doubted Christ's power in
saving such a lad--not that I meant to; but that's what it amounted to,
all the same.
"Well, the very next night, as I was doing my chores, who should come
to my house but this Ray Branford. 'I want to see you on business, Mr.
Woodhull,' he said. 'Well, here I am,' I answered, gruffly. 'Do you
remember how, one fall, some one stole your watermelons?' he asked.
'Yes,' said I, kinder getting an idea of what he was driving at. 'And
your strawberries, and apples, and pears,' he goes on, naming the
times. 'Yes,' answered I, shortly. 'How much,' inquired he, 'would pay
you for them all?' I thought it over, and to test his repentance, I put
it just as high as I could. 'About twenty-five dollars,' I answered.
Would you believe it, that youngster took out a roll of bills, and
said, 'Here, Mr. Woodhull, is fifteen dollars that I have been saving
to get me some clothes with; but I will give you that now, and I will
pay you the other ten as soon as I can save it. Will you forgive me?'
My brethren, you could have knocked me down with a feather then, so to
speak. I never was so ashamed in my life. I shook hands with him, but I
took the money, and I have taken the other ten. Perhaps you think I was
hard on him, so I'll just say that boy isn't going to lose anything by
it.
"After he had gone I went into the house and opened the Bible, and
read about Zaccheus. Then I said, 'There, Jacob Woodhull, you and some
other folks are like those self-righteous citizens of Jericho. You have
wondered why the Lord wanted to go down to that Branford house and stop
with such miserable sinners. Meanwhile, that boy, just like Zaccheus,
has stood and said, 'Lord, if I have taken anything from any man, I
restore him fourfold,' for I reckon he has just about settled with
me in that proportion. And all the time the Master was saying, 'This
day is salvation come to this house, forasmuch as he also is a son of
Abraham.' I guess, brethren, what the Lord has cleansed, we better not
call either common or unclean."
Amid an impressive silence he sat down, and a unanimous vote was cast
for the lad's acceptance.
Nor did the First Church people ever have cause to regret that vote;
indeed, in after years they were accustomed to allude to that hour, and
with pardonable pride assert, "Among all we have received into this
church, no one has given more marked evidence of conversion than has
Ray Branford, or that the Divine voice said unto him, 'Fear not; for I
have redeemed thee.'"