Abe as a Class Leader
The Class-meeting is one of the best institutions in Methodism. It has
done as much as anything else, if not more, to keep up the spiritual
life of the churches; it has been a refuge for tens of thousands of
tempted ones; it has been a seasonable corrector to many who were just
beginning to fall into the paths of sin, and has brought them back to
Christ again; it has supplied the social need of our Christian faith,
and gathered friends together for spiritual communion; it has been a
safeguard against the devices of the devil by affording opportunities
for the disciples of our Lord to compare their experiences, tell their
temptations, and impart mutual encouragement to each other in the
Divine life; it is a natural, seemly, and modest vent for the spiritual
fire which glows and flashes in every heart that loves the Lord with
sincerity. It was almost self-appointed; it came to be, or grew out of
a class of circumstances which would at any other time have produced
essentially the same thing; it is the outgrowth of the fervent piety
which marked the lives of our fathers in the churches, and it has met
the tendencies of glowing Christianity among us ever since. It is an
encumbrance only where this kind of Christianity is not maintained; as
godly zeal declines, so sinks the estimation for class-meetings; just
as the appetite for food forsakes a sickly person, so the desire for
experience meetings declines in a sickly church. Persons who never did
attend class-meetings cannot be judged by them; their piety may deepen
or diminish, but other tests must be found for them. The class-meeting
is a Methodist gauge, and only here can it apply.
"Little Abe" was a class leader for many years, and there was no work
more heartily enjoyed by him than this. The members of his class who
survive him often talk of the grand times they had with the little man
in this way; it was often like heaven on earth. He was a very
successful leader, and always kept his members well together. If any
of them absented themselves he was soon on their track, hunting them up
and bringing them back to the fold.
"MY FATHER'S GOT PLENTY O' TIMBER."
His class was conducted in a neat little cottage near the chapel
belonging to one of the members, who week by week opened his doors for
the accommodation of Abe and his flock. Their meeting was held in a
comfortable room which served the family as kitchen and parlour; here
every Monday night the quaint old shepherd came to meet his sheep. The
big family table was pushed back against the window, the elbow-chair
was placed at the end for the leader, all the chairs and seats in the
house were brought into this room and ranged around as conveniently as
possible to accommodate the weekly visitors, and sometimes when this
was done there were more people than seats, and the big table had to be
drawn out again, and made use of as a resting-place for the homely
people who gathered there; or a long board would be brought down from
upstairs and its ends placed on two chairs, and thus an additional seat
was extemporized.
This very board had the misfortune to snap in two one night while a
brother was engaged in praying. He was a _powerful_ man in prayer; his
soul was inspired with zeal, and his body animated with strength, which
on this occasion he vented in a succession of heavy blows on this
devoted piece of timber, until suddenly it gave way with a loud crack
and fell in two pieces on the floor, to the great discomfiture of those
whose weight added to the strain. For some moments there was
considerable confusion in the room, as may be supposed, and the praying
was brought to a sudden halt, when Abe's voice was heard above all,
"Ne'er moind, lad, go at it! My Father's got plenty o' timber, and
He'll send thee a new seat," whereon the meeting went on, as lively as
before. Abe wouldn't allow any such trifles to interfere with the
happy flow of feeling in his meetings; indeed, such incidents served
rather to stimulate than abate the exuberance of his spirits. He knew
that all things belonged to the Lord, and that He would make good all
that was lost in His service, and therefore "he took joyfully the
spoiling of his goods," and other folk's too. It is needless to say
that the old seat was replaced by a new one.
"MY FATHER 'LL GIE THE' THIS HAASE" (House).
When Abe had been conducting his class for some years in the cottage
before named, an event transpired which greatly disturbed his mind, and
led him to fear he might have to remove his meeting to some other
place. Now this was a sore trouble ta him and to every one of his
members; they had got accustomed to going there, and some of them had
never met anywhere else, so that they could not bear the thought of
being obliged to leave, yet there was some ground for the fear.
The person who owned the cottage was mother-in-law to the man by whom
it was occupied; she died and left her property, which consisted
chiefly of cottages, to be divided equally among her children. Soon
after the funeral the family met in this very house to arrange the
division of the estate. The plan adopted was to draw lots for houses,
and as they were nearly of the same value, this seemed equitable. So
the lots were all prepared and placed together, and each person was to
draw one, and take the house named on the lot; the drawing was to
commence with the eldest, and go down to the youngest. Now the wife of
the man in whose house the class met was the youngest member of the
family, and therefore must take what all the others left. When
everything was ready for the drawing to begin, the proceedings were
interrupted by a knock at the door. The man of the house opened it,
and found, to his surprise, "Little Abe" there. "Come aat a minute,"
said he, "I want to spaike to the'." On getting outside Abe resumed,
"I knaw what ye are baan to do in there."
"Haa dost ta knaw?" said the man.
"Ne'r moind, I knaw;" and going close up to his ear and placing his
hand on the man's arm, he said, "My Father 'll gie the' this haase, He
telled me soa; I've been to Him abaat it, and I have His word on 't;
but afore thaa gets it, I want the' to promise me that while I live I
shall have my meetin' here."
"Yo' shall," was the ready response; "as long as thaa and me lives this
haase shall be oppen to the' if we get it."
"Bless the Lord," said Abe, rubbing his hands, "I could loike to shaat"
(shout) "but they'd hear me insoide. Ne'er moind, I knaw tha'll get
it;--gooid-noight!"
His friend then returned into the house, and immediately the drawing
began. Each drew one lot; then they all read them together, and as Abe
predicted, the house in which they were assembled fell to the share of
the man who lived in it. But this is not the end of the story: it
appears that one of the sons was not satisfied with his portion, and
began to complain. The fact is he wanted this house, and if he had got
it Abe and his class would have been turned out. So, rather than have
any unpleasantness in the family, they all agreed to cast lots again
and abide by the issue. This was done, and to the astonishment of all,
this house fell a second time to the same man, and though it was
considered the best lot, everyone felt it was fairly his, and he has it
to this day.
It may suit some people to say this was a mere accident; yes, just the
same as the world is an accident and a thing of chance. Perhaps it was
an accident, too, that "Little Abe" was able to foretell the issue of
that lottery with such confidence, and was so eager to make his bargain
for the use of the room before the lots were known. The chance that
can show such intelligence, foreknowledge, and power, that can
communicate its intentions beforehand, and afterwards verify them in
this manner, has the attributes of God, and must be Divine; a chance
that can hear and answer prayer, that can work out its own designs and
baffle those of others, that can reveal secrets to His favourites and
honourably keep covenants, deserves the faith and worship of all men:
this was Abe Lockwood's God, and He shall be ours for ever and ever.
There are some who say, "What is the Almighty that we should serve Him?
and what profit shall we have if we pray unto Him?" These scientific
theorists and unbelievers are intensely anxious to prove that prayer is
only wasted energy, that nothing can possibly come as direct answering
to prayer, that if things do follow which seem to be in response to
earnest and devout petition, they result from some other causes, which
have no connection, except coincidental, with prayer.
Men who talk so don't pray, never did. They don't know what prayer is;
they are wrong in their first principles, and therefore all their
deductions are awry; it is impossible for anyone who discredits prayer
to know what he is talking about. Prayer is a something going on
within the soul, it is something which must be experienced to be
understood; and yet those who have no experience presume to
philosophize on the subject as if they had spent all their life in the
exercise and study of prayer. Just as well might "Little Abe" try to
talk scientifically, as those scientists speak on the merits or worth
of prayer, it is out of their sphere, they are out of their depth, and
therefore it was a sad want of discretion which first tempted them to
venture so far.
"Little Abe" was a much better judge of the value of prayer than these
theorists; he was much further learnt in this direction than any of
them, and therefore his testimony was more reliable than theirs; what
to them was a mystery and impossibility was to him a simple daily
enjoyment. They that would test the value of prayer _must really pray
themselves_, and believe while they pray, otherwise they will be no
wiser. Prayer is not disproved by the failure of improper petitions,
but it is proved by the success attending supplications presented in
the right spirit. If men expect nothing, they get what they expect,
the Bible says so; "But without faith it is impossible to please Him;
for he that cometh to God must believe that He is, and that He is a
rewarder of them that diligently seek Him" (Heb. xi. 6).
Prayer was an exercise in which Abe was a proficient and spent much
time; at his work he prayed, and in his chamber, long and earnestly,
until he prevailed. Sometimes in the meetings, as Abe would say, "they
gat agaat o' wrestling," and then he often became so importunate in his
intercessions that his whole body prayed as well as his soul, and quite
unconsciously he beat the bench at which he knelt, struck the floor
with his clogs, sweat at every pore, and really wrestled with God in
mighty prayer, and then the glory was sure to come down and fill the
place. Certainly at those times Abe and those who were with him were
very noisy, and some who had no sympathy with anything of the sort,
would make some disparaging remarks. There were some of old who would
have silenced the loud cries of poor blind Bartimeus, but they could
not, nor can they stop the voice of vehement prayer. Pray on,
brethren, get hold of God, and then make what noise you like.
We want more of this praying spirit among the Lord's people, and less
of the cold calculations of the unbeliever. Here lies the strength of
the Christian Church, and not in its immense wealth, its high culture,
its refined pulpit, or luxurious pew; it is that praying power which
brings the Divine unction down. May God give us the praying power.