George Muller of Bristol Part 22

Mr. Muller seldom addressed his brethren in the ministry without giving more or less counsel as to the conduct of church-life, giving plain witness against such hindrances as unconverted singers and choirs, secular methods of raising money, pew-rents and caste distinctions in the house of prayer, etc.; and urging such helps as inquirers' meetings, pastoral visits, and, above all else, believing prayer. He urged definite praying and importunate praying, and remarked that Satan will not mind how we labour in prayer for a few days, weeks, or even months, if he can at last discourage us so that we cease praying, as though it were of no use.

As to prayers for past seed-sowing, he told the writer of this memoir how in all supplication to G.o.d he looked not only forward but _backward._ He was wont to ask that the Lord would be pleased to bless seed long since sown and yet apparently unfruitful; and he said that, in answer to these prayers, he had up to that day evidence of G.o.d's loving remembrance of his work of faith and labour of love in years long gone by. He was permitted to know that messages delivered for G.o.d, tracts scattered, and other means of service had, after five, ten, twenty, and even sixty years, at last brought forth a harvest. Hence his urgency in advising fellow labourers to pray unceasingly that G.o.d would work mightily in the hearts of those who had once been under their care, bringing to their remembrance the truth which had been set before them.

The humility Mr. Muller enjoined he practised. He was ever only the _servant_ of the Lord. Mr. Spurgeon, in one of his sermons, describes the startling effect on London Bridge when he saw one lamp after another lit up with flame, though in the darkness he could not see the lamplighter; and George Muller set many a light burning when he was himself content to be unseen, unnoticed, and unknown. He honestly sought not his own glory, but had the meek and quiet spirit so becoming a minister of Jesus Christ.

Mr. Henry Craik's death in 1866, after thirty-four years of co-labour in the Lord, left Mr. Muller comparatively alone with a double burden of responsibility, but his faith was equal to the crisis and his peace remained unbroken. A beloved brother, then visiting Bristol, after crowded services conducted by him at Bethesda, was about leaving the city; and he asked Mr. Muller, "What are you going to do, now that Mr.

Craik is dead, to hold the people and prevent their scattering?" "My beloved brother," was the calm reply, "we shall do what we have always done, _look only to the Lord."_

This G.o.d has been the perpetual helper. Mr. Muller almost totally withdrew from the work, during the seventeen years of his missionary tours, between 1875 and 1892, when he was in Bristol but a few weeks or months at a time, in the intervals between his long journeys and voyages. This left the a.s.sembly of believers still more dependent upon the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls. But Bethesda has never, in a sense, been limited to any one or two men, as the only acknowledged leaders; from the time when those seven believers gathered about the Lord's table in 1832, the New Testament conception of the equality of believers in privilege and duty has been maintained. The one supreme Leader is the Holy Ghost, and under Him those whom He calls and qualifies. One of the fundamental principles espoused by these brethren is that the Spirit of G.o.d controls in the a.s.semblies of the saints; that He sets the members, every one of them, in the Body as it pleaseth Him, and divides unto them, severally as He will, gifts for service in the Body; that the only true ordination is His ordination, and that the manifestation of His gifts is the sufficient basis for the recognition of brethren as qualified for the exercise of an office or function, the possession of spiritual gifts being sufficient authority for their exercise. It is with the Body of Christ as with the human body: the eye is manifestly made for seeing and the ear for hearing, the hand and foot for handling and walking; and this adaptation both shows the design of G.o.d and their place in the organism. And so for more than threescore years the Holy Spirit has been safely trusted to supply and qualify all needed teachers, helpers, and leaders in the a.s.sembly. There has always been a considerable number of brethren and sisters fitted and disposed to take up the various departments of service to which they were obviously called of the Spirit, so that no one person has been indispensable. Various brethren have been able to give more or less time and strength to preaching, visiting, and ruling in the church; while scores of others, who, like Paul, Priscilla and Aquila, the tent-makers, have their various business callings and seek therein to "abide with G.o.d," are ready to aid as the Lord may guide in such other forms of service as may consist with their ordinary vocations. The prosperity of the congregation, its growth, conduct, and edification, have therefore been dependent only on G.o.d, who, as He has withdrawn one worker after another, has supplied others in their stead, and so continues to do.

To have any adequate conception of the fruits of such teaching and such living in church-life, it is needful to go at least into one of the Monday-night prayer meetings at Bethesda. It is primitive and apostolic in simplicity. No one presides but the unseen Spirit of G.o.d. A hymn is suggested by some brother, and then requests for prayer are read, usually with definite mention of the names of those by and for whom supplication is asked. Then prayer, scripture reading, singing, and exhortation follow, without any prearrangement as to subject, order in which or persons by whom, the exercises are partic.i.p.ated in. The fullest liberty is encouraged to act under the Spirit's guidance; and the fact of such guidance is often strikingly apparent in the singular unity of prayer and song, scripture reading and remarks, as well as in the harmonious fellowship apparent. After more than half a century these Monday-night prayer services are still a hallowed centre of attraction, a rallying-point for supplication, and a radiating-point for service, and remain unchanged in the method of their conduct.

The original congregation has proved a tree whose seed is in itself after its kind. At the time of Mr. Muller's decease it was nearly sixty-six years since that memorable evening in 1832 when those seven believers met to form a church; and the original body of disciples meeting in Bethesda had increased to ten, six of which are now independent of the mother church, and four of which still remain in close affiliation and really const.i.tute one church, though meeting in Bethesda, Alma Road, Stokes Croft, and Totterdown chapels. The names of the other churches which have been in a sense offshoots from Bethesda are as follows: Unity, Bishopston, c.u.mberland Hall, Charleton Hall, Nicholas Road, and Bedminster.

At the date of Mr. Muller's decease the total membership of the four affiliated congregations was upwards of twelve hundred.

In this brief compa.s.s no complete outline could be given of the church life and work so dear to him, and over which he so long watched and prayed. This church has been and is a missionary church. When on March 1, 1836, Mr. and Mrs. Groves, with ten helpers, left Bristol to carry on mission work in the East Indies, Mr. Muller felt deeply moved to pray that the body of disciples to whom he ministered might send out from their own members labourers for the wide world-field. That prayer was not forgotten before G.o.d, and has already been answered exceeding abundantly above all he then asked or thought. Since that time some sixty have gone forth to lands afar to labour in the gospel, and at the period of Mr. Muller's death there were at work, in various parts of the world, at least twenty, who are aided by the free-will offerings of their Bristol brethren.

When, in 1874, Mr. Muller closed the third volume of his Narrative, he recorded the interesting fact that, of the many nonconformist ministers of the gospel resident in Bristol when he took up work there more than forty-two years before, _not one remained,_ all having been removed elsewhere or having died; and that, of all the Evangelical clergy of the establishment, only _one_ survived. Yet he himself, with very rare hindrance through illness, was permitted to preach and labour with health and vigour both of mind and body; over a thousand believers were already under his pastoral oversight, meeting in three different chapels, and over three thousand had been admitted into fellowship.

It was the writer's privilege to hear Mr. Muller preach on the morning of March 22, 1896, in Bethesda Chapel. He was in his ninety-first year, but there was a freshness, vigour, and terseness in his preaching that gave no indication of failing powers; in fact, he had never seemed more fitted to express and impress the thoughts of G.o.d.

His theme was the seventy-seventh psalm, and it afforded him abundant scope for his favourite subject--prayer. He expounded the psalm verse by verse, clearly, sympathetically, effectively, and the outline of his treatment strongly engraved itself on my memory and is here reproduced.

"I cried unto G.o.d with my voice." Prayer seeks a voice--to utter itself in words: the effort to clothe our desires in language gives definiteness to our desires and keeps the attention on the objects of prayer.

"In the day of my trouble." The Psalmist was in trouble; some distress was upon him, perhaps physical as well as mental, and it was an unceasing burden night and day.

"My soul refused to be comforted." The words, "my sore ran in the night," may be rendered, "my hand reached out"--that is in prayer. But unbelief triumphed, and his soul refused all comfort--even the comfort of G.o.d's promises. His trouble overshadowed his faith and shut out the vision of G.o.d.

"I remembered, or thought of G.o.d, and was troubled." Even the thought of G.o.d, instead of bringing peace, brought distress; instead of silencing his complaint, it increased it, and his spirit was overwhelmed--the sure sign, again, of unbelief. If in trouble G.o.d's promises and the thought of G.o.d bring no relief, they will only become an additional burden.

"Thou holdest mine eyes waking." There was no sleep because there was no rest or peace. Care makes wakeful. Anxiety is the foe of repose. His spirit was unbelieving and therefore rebellious. He would not take G.o.d at His word.

"I have considered the days of old." Memory now is at work. He calls to remembrance former experiences of trouble and of deliverance. He had often sought G.o.d and been heard and helped, and why not now? As he made diligent search among the records of his experience and recollected all G.o.d's manifest and manifold interpositions, he began to ask whether G.o.d could be fickle and capricious, whether His mercy was exhausted and His promise withdrawn, whether He had forgotten His covenant of grace, and shut up His fountains of love.

Thus we follow the Psalmist through six stages of unbelief:

1. The thought of G.o.d is a burden instead of a blessing.

2. The complaining spirit increases toward G.o.d.

3. His spirit is agitated instead of soothed and calmed.

4. Sleep departs, and anxiety forbids repose of heart.

5. Trouble only deepens and G.o.d seems far off.

6. Memory recalls G.o.d's mercies, but only to awaken distrust.

At last we reach the _turning-point_ in the psalm: he asks as he reviews former experiences, WHERE IS THE DIFFERENCE? IS THE CHANGE IN G.o.d OR IN ME? "Selah"--the pause marks this turning-point in the argument or experience.

"And I said, This is _my infirmity."_ In other words, "I HAVE BEEN A FOOL!" G.o.d is faithful. He never casts off. His children are always dear to Him. His grace is exhaustless and His promise unfailing. Instead of fixing his eyes on his trouble he now fixes his whole mind on G.o.d. He remembers His work, and meditates upon it; instead of rehearsing his own trials, he talks of His doings. He gets overwhelmed now, not with the greatness of his troubles, but the greatness of his Helper. He recalls His miracles of power and love, and remembers the mystery of His mighty deeds--His way in the sea, His strange dealings and leadings and their gracious results--and so faith once more triumphs.

What is the conclusion, the practical lesson?

Unbelief is folly. It charges G.o.d foolishly. Man's are the weakness and failure, but never G.o.d's. My faith may be lacking, but not His power.

Memory and meditation, when rightly directed, correct unbelief. G.o.d has shown Himself great. He has always done wonders. He led even an unbelieving and murmuring people out of Egypt and for forty years through the wilderness, and His miracles of power and love were marvelous.

The psalm contains a _great lesson._ Affliction is inevitable. But our business is never to lose sight of the Father who will not leave His children. We are to roll all burdens on Him and wait patiently, and deliverance is sure. Behind the curtain He carries on His plan of love, never forgetting us, always caring for His own. His ways of dealing we cannot trace, for His footsteps are in the trackless sea, and unknown to us. But HE IS SURELY LEADING, and CONSTANTLY LOVING. Let us not be fools, but pray in faith to a faithful G.o.d.

This is the substance of that morning exposition, and is here given very inadequately, it is true, yet it serves not only to ill.u.s.trate Mr.

Muller's mode of expounding and applying the Word, but the exposition of this psalm is a sort of exponent also of his life. It reveals his habits of prayer, the conflicts with unbelief, and how out of temptations to distrust G.o.d he found deliverance; and thus is doubly valuable to us as an experimental commentary upon the life-history we are studying.

CHAPTER XXII

A GLANCE AT THE GIFTS AND THE GIVERS

THERE is One who still sits over against the Treasury, watching the gifts cast into it, and impartially weighing their worth, estimating the rich man's millions and the widow's mites, not by the amount given, but by the motives which impel and the measure of self-sacrifice accepted for the Lord's sake.

The ample supplies poured into Mr. Muller's hands came alike from those who had abundance of wealth and from those whose only abundance was that of deep poverty, but the rills as well as the rivers were from G.o.d. It is one of the charms of this life-story to observe the variety of persons and places, sums of money and forms of help, connected with the donations made to the Lord's work; and the exact adaptation between the need and the supply, both as to time and amount. Some instances of this have been given in the historic order; but to get a more complete view of the lessons which they suggest it is helpful to cla.s.sify some of the striking and impressive examples, which are so abundant, and which afford such valuable hints as to the science and the art of giving.

Valuable lessons may be drawn from the beautiful spirit shown by givers and from the secret history of their gifts.

In some cases the facts were not known till long after, even by Mr.

Muller himself; and when known, could not be disclosed to the public while the parties were yet alive. But when it became possible and proper to unveil these hidden things they were revealed for the glory of G.o.d and the good of others, and shine on the pages of this record like stars in the sky. Paul rejoiced in the free-will offerings of Philippian disciples, not because he desired a gift, but fruit that might abound to their account; not because their offerings ministered to his necessity, but because they became a sacrifice of a sweet smell acceptable, well pleasing to G.o.d. Such joy constantly filled Mr. Muller's heart. He was daily refreshed and reinvigorated by the many proofs that the gifts received had been first sanctified by prayer and self-denial. He lived and breathed amid the fragrance of sweet-savour offerings, permitted for more than threescore years to partic.i.p.ate in the joy of the Lord Himself over the cheerful though often costly gifts of His people. By reason of identification with his Master, the servant caught the sweet scent of these sacrifices as their incense rose from His altars toward heaven.

Even on earth the self-denials of his own life found compensation in thus acting in the Lord's behalf in receiving and disbursing these gifts; and, he says, "the Lord thus impressed on me from the beginning that the orphan houses and work were HIS, _not_ MINE."

Many a flask of spikenard, very precious, broken upon the feet of the Saviour, for the sake of the orphans, or the feeding of starving souls with the Bread of Life, filled the house with the odour of the ointment, so that to dwell there was to breathe a hallowed atmosphere of devotion.

Among the first givers to the work was a poor needlewoman, who, to Mr.

Muller's surprise, brought _one hundred pounds._ She earned by her work only an _average, per week,_ of _three shillings and sixpence,_ and was moreover weak in body. A small legacy of less than five hundred pounds from her grandmother's estate had come to her at her father's death by the conditions of her grandmother's will. But that father had died a drunkard and a bankrupt, and her brothers and sisters had settled with his creditors by paying them five shillings to the pound. To her conscience, this seemed robbing the creditors of three fourths of their claim, and, though they had no legal hold upon her, she privately paid them the other fifteen shillings to the pound, of the unpaid debts of her father. Moreover, when her unconverted brother and two sisters gave each fifty pounds to the widowed mother, she as a child of G.o.d felt that she should give double that amount. By this time her own share of the legacy was reduced to a small remainder, and it was out of this that she gave the one hundred pounds for the orphan work!

As Mr. Muller's settled principle was _never to grasp eagerly at any gift whatever the need or the amount of the gift,_ before accepting this money he had a long conversation with this woman, seeking to prevent her from giving either from an unsanctified motive or in unhallowed haste, without counting the cost. He would in such a case dishonour his Master by accepting the gift, as though G.o.d were in need of our offerings.

Careful scrutiny, however, revealed no motives not pure and Christlike; this woman had calmly and deliberately reached her decision. "The Lord Jesus," she said, "has given His last drop of blood for me, and should I not give Him this hundred pounds?" He who comes into contact with such givers in his work for G.o.d finds therein a means of grace.

This striking incident lends a pathetic interest to the beginnings of the orphan work, and still more as we further trace the story of this humble needlewoman. She had been a habitual giver, but so un.o.btrusively that, while she lived, not half a dozen people knew of either the legacy or of this donation. Afterward, however, it came to the light that in many cases she had quietly and most unostentatiously given food, clothing, and like comforts to the deserving poor. Her gifts were so disproportionate to her means that her little capital rapidly diminished. Mr. Muller was naturally very reluctant to accept what she brought, until he saw that the love of Christ constrained her. He could then do no less than to receive her offering, in his Master's name, while like the Master he exclaimed, "O woman, great is thy faith!"

Five features made her benevolence praiseworthy. First, all these deeds of charity were done in secret and without any show; and she therefore was kept humble, not puffed up with pride through human applause; her personal habits of dress and diet remained as simple after her legacy as before, and to the last she worked with her needle for her own support; and, finally, while her _earnings_ were counted in shillings and pence, her _givings_ were counted in sovereigns or five-pound notes, and in one case by the hundred pounds. Her money was entirely gone, years before she was called higher, but the faithful G.o.d never forgot His promise: "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee." Never left to want, even after bodily weakness forbade her longer to ply her needle, she asked no human being for help, but in whatever straits made her appeal to G.o.d, and was not only left to suffer no lack, but, in the midst of much bodily suffering, her mouth was filled with holy song.

Mr. Muller records the _first bequest_ as from a dear lad who died in the faith. During his last illness, he had received a gift of some new silver coins; and he asked that this, his only treasure in money, might be sent for the orphans. With pathetic tenderness Mr. Muller adds that this precious little legacy of _six shillings sixpence halfpenny,_ received September 15, 1837, was the first they ever had. Those who estimate all donations by money-worth can little understand how welcome such a bequest was; but to such a man this small donation, bequeathed by one of Christ's little ones, and representing all he possessed, was of inestimable worth.

In May, 1842, a gold watch and chain were accompanied by a brief note, the contents of which suggest the possibilities of service, open to us through the voluntary limitation of artificial or imaginary wants. The note reads thus: "A pilgrim does not want such a watch as this to make him happy; one of an inferior kind will do to show him how swiftly time flies, and how fast he is hastening on to that Canaan where time will be no more: so that it is for you to do with this what it seemeth good to you. It is the last relic of earthly vanity, and, while I am in the body, may I be kept from all idolatry!"

In March, 1884, a contribution reached Mr. Muller from one who had been enabled in a like spirit to increase the amount over all previous gifts by the sale of some jewelry which had been put away in accordance with 1 Peter iii. 3. How much superfluous ornament, worn by disciples, might be blessedly sacrificed for the Lord's sake! The one ornament which is in His sight of great price would shine with far more l.u.s.tre if it were the only one worn.

Another instance of turning all things to account was seen in the case of a giver who sent a box containing four old crown pieces which had a curious history. They were the wedding-day present of a bridegroom to his bride, who, reluctant to spend her husband's first gift, kept them until she pa.s.sed them over, as heirlooms, to her four grand-children.