THE SEAT BY THE SEA

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22398, 20 October 1934, Page 27

THE SEAT BY THE SEA

Written for the Otago Daily Times By the Rev. D. Gardner Miller.

We were sitting on a scat facing the sea—a brother minister and myself—talking “ shop,” when a figure I knew quite well passed by. I called to him, and he sat down beside us. He is an old Salvation Army officer and had come up north to take part in some special anniversary services. I-had come for a rest; the other member of the little group was the local parson and a friend of, mine. It was a glorious .day and Napier was a blaze of colour under the blue sky and a sun that seemed to take a pleasure in shining. Given three men of our calling foregathering under such ideal conditions, what', could we talk about? Notliing less than reminiscences of the ' miracles of grace we had witnessed throughout our years of service as ambassadors of Christ.

The old man, his voice trembling and his voice sounding feeble, began to speak of the scenes of the early days of the Salvation Array in New Zealand. It was a thrilling story, and it moved me deeply., He spoke of those days in Dunedin when the “ Skeleton Army ” of roughs broke up the meetings of the Salvation Army; of men and women who dared great things for Christ; of those who had been turned from darkness to light. From Dunedin the story swept up to Maheno, Oamaru, Palmerston North and Napier. By this time my old friend had risen to his feet, his voice had become stronger and his eyes flashed and flushed with the light of stirring memories. Great days, ■ great opposition, and a great Christ 1 Converts whom he had known approach the penitent form 50 years ago still rejoice in the keeping power of the risen Christ. My other friend—the parson—-though still a comparatively young man, had seen service in England, Australia and Canada before coming to New Zealand. He told of bushmen in Australia; of how a converted pugilist won his old drinking, brawling companions over to the side of Christ. He spoke of scenes in England among the Australian troops, where he and others tried to stem the evil that rose up in waves to engulf the lads. He thrilled as he spoke of men and women who had been changed and set on a new course with a song in their hearts. And then he quoted the hymn, “He Lifted Me,” as his own personal testimony. As for myself, I did not say much—a very unusual thing—but as my friends talked and I gave them my ears my mind was questing down the corridors of time, and I was back again in the alums of the Old Land, and I saw again the men and women God had used me to bring to His feet. The scat by the sea became a holy place.

As my brother minister and I wended our way back to the town—my old Salvation Army friend having left us a Tittle earlier—our minds were full of the echoes of the conversation we had had as we sat on the seat by the sea. Suddenly my companion turned to mo and said, “That’s where we make the mistake in our churches; we are not definite enough.” . I agreed. Now, I very intensely dislike the average criticism that you hear about churches in general. Most of the critics either have a personal grudge against the parson or a church member, or are among those who in their heart of hearts are afraid to face up to the implications of church membership. I see many faults in the organised church, but whenever I feel inclined to condemn I make myself remember that I myself am not nearly as good a man as I should be—and the hot words remain unborn.

But yet, in sorrow I must say, the churches are not definite enough. I don’t mean that the churches are not definite about social reform, education, foreign missions, etc.—they are very definite about these things. But on the one thing that matters, namely that of bringing men and women and children into personal touch with Christ, the churches leave much to. be desired.

A brilliant preacher once cried out, “Evangelise or perish,” and he was right. Unless there is this passionate concern to bring others to Christ making itself felt as the heart-beat of the Church, then, no matter how strong she may be in every other way, she is slowly decaying. My old Salvation Army friend told us how on the very first Sunday the Army began in Dunedin he linked his arm in that of a chum ami said. “Let's go and hear the Army.” The chum that afternoon found his way to the penitent form and became a follower of Christ. To-day he is a well-known Christian worker in one of the city’s churches. That’s the definite thing that many churches are not doing. We are not deliberately making converts. I know that many will tell me that that is not the only thing the churches have to do. I agree. But my experience has taught me that unless a church does make converts, then that church is busy making its own winding sheet. There is something terribly wrong in any church that can show a balanced budget and cannot show a redeemed man. No argument will ever move me from my conviction that if there were more heart-burnings in our pulpits and pews about winning men for Christ there would be fewer heart-aches about our financial position. Why do we not put first things first? Have you ever tried introducing anyone to Christ? It may be it takes courage, but it brings a joy that nothing can exceed. Don’t leave all the evangelising to the pulpit. Link your arm in another’s and invite your friend or neighbour to meet Christ, the sinners’ Friend.