HOW THE VISION CAME
The genesis of a vision is always interesting, though often obscure. On one day a certain side of life is a blank. There is no outlook, no hint of the coming brightness. On another day that side of life is made all radiant and glorious by a vision, clear and definite, that beckons on to future achievement. Sometimes it comes suddenly, like Peter’s vision when he was upon the housetop in Joppa; and sometimes it dawns gradually, and little by little paints itself in beautiful colors upon the sky of one’s inner consciousness. As remarked in a previous chapter, a conviction is the egg from which the vision comes; but the egg is only dead and formless matter until it is brooded over and warmed into life. So a conviction may be strong and positive, but it may exist for a long time, formless, lifeless, and useless, until it is quickened into vitality by the brooding spirit of a man, and thus becomes an active and inspiring force. So it may be profitable and necessary to the proper understanding of this story to tell how the vision came.
For fifteen years I had been working away in my country parish. They had been happy years of glad, harmonious work. I was satisfied with my job. Though remote from the great centers of population, in a small village, and with people of very modest means, that restless feeling that spoils the peace and mars the work of so many ministers had been absent. My people were of the strong and sturdy sort, faithful and appreciative beyond many, ready to coöperate in carrying out any plans of work that the pastor might propose. They were splendid followers, responding quickly to all my suggestions. There was a good understanding between myself and the people.
I was called to pass through deep affliction. My home was broken up by a sudden stroke and I was left alone. Into the dark valley of sorrow my people accompanied me as far as they were able to go, and the effect seemed to be to unite us with bonds that were very strong and tender. Every home in all the parish was mine. All the children belonged to me. There was a chair for me at every fireside and a plate at every table.
But as the years went by there came some tempting opportunities to engage in work elsewhere. I was not without my ambitions and aspirations. I wanted to fill out the full measure of my ability and do my best work. And when some opportunities came that made the little country parish seem by comparison rather small and meager, I was not altogether proof against them. To become assistant pastor in a famous church in a large city—to take up the work of general missionary for a whole state seemed to promise fields of usefulness so rich and large that they made a strong appeal to the best there was in me, and perhaps also to the worst. I spent some weeks and months in considering these propositions and finally turned them down. I could not bring myself to sever my connection with those to whom I had been so long and so closely related. The personal tie was too strong and I decided to remain with my people.
With the decision came a thorough heart-searching. It marked a turning-point in my spiritual history. I was impressed with the thought that if it was God’s will that I should remain in my present work, it must be for a special purpose. Things could not be in the future as they had been in the past. It would be criminal to turn down a larger work for one that was small unless there were good and sufficient reasons for doing so. If it was the Lord’s will that I should remain in that country parish, there must be some work there that it was worth while for me to do, some work that in a proper degree, at least, would approach in importance the large proposition made by the city and the state. What was the work? Was there anything to be done among those hills and in those rapidly disappearing forests that could fire a man’s ambitions and satisfy his high aspirations?
Just here the vision came. At first a whole township was revealed as a possible parish, with every family tributary to the church, and the church performing a valuable ministry for them all. The vision expanded until it took in another township, and parts of three or four more. It became plain that almost half a county was tributary to the church, that five hundred families and twenty-five hundred people were waiting for its ministry. It dawned upon my mental vision that I was called upon to be the pastor of all these people, for five or six miles in every direction, that the Benzonia church was responsible for them all, that they had a right to look to us for service and help, and that if we failed to give it we should be unfaithful to our Master and recreant to our trust. Then I said: “Here is something worth doing. Here may be wrought out an experiment in country evangelization and rural betterment that may help to arrest the downward trend that has become so alarming in these latter days. It was for this that God has kept me here. If I can make this vision a reality, I need not pine for a larger field. If I can help others to see the vision, and inspire them with enthusiasm to make it real in larger fields than mine, and in many parts of our country, I shall never regret that I stayed by the stuff.” The vision came as a compensation. It was the reward that God gave for following his leading along those ways where natural inclinations would not have disposed me to go. God wants us to do our best and largest work. He never calls us to a smaller work. If he bids us walk along a humble path and go in an obscure way, we shall find our true life-work there.
The church had for many years been much interested in both home and foreign missions. I preached frequently upon the subject, and kept it constantly before the people. Regular collections were taken for missionary objects, and the Every Member Canvass plan had long been in operation. The response was always general and liberal. In fact, those who were well acquainted with the churches of the state have often said that in proportion to its resources, its gifts were larger than those of any other church. Not only did they give money, but they also gave their sons and daughters to carry the gospel to less favored regions. Many of the young women of the church had gone to teach in home mission schools. And there came a beautiful summer Sabbath when a favorite niece, brought up in my home, and an active and useful member of the church, beloved by all, with solemn services in the little church on the hilltop was consecrated to the foreign work and sent forth with the prayers and blessings of all the people to represent them among the awakening millions of China.
As I was sitting in my study one day pondering upon these things, the absurdity of the situation came over me all at once. “Here we are gathering money to send our sons and daughters to the distant parts of the earth, but we are doing absolutely nothing for scores of families that are almost within the sound of our church-bell. We feel some responsibility for the millions of people of other lands whom we have never seen, and never shall see, but we have not felt very much responsibility for those who are separated from us by only a few miles. We are anxious to give the gospel to the colored people, the Chinese, and to those of alien races; but we have felt no such anxiety for those of our own race who are not so very far away. There are many families and hundreds of people within five or six miles of our church that are practically without the gospel, as truly as are the Chinese or the South Sea Islanders. We have made no systematic effort to interest them in these things. We have given them no reason to believe that we are drawn out toward them with Christlike motives. Surely there must be something wrong in our calculations.” Then I heard the Master say, “These ye ought to have done, and not to have left the other undone.”
And then came the vision of “The Larger Parish.” I saw the church reaching out its hand and touching tenderly but effectively all the people in the surrounding country. I saw the church feeling some responsibility for every family, and counting them all as within the bounds of its parish. I saw every family in all that wide region as tributary to the church. I saw the church making systematic plans to carry the gospel to all these outlying neighborhoods. I began to think of all those people as my parishioners as truly as were those who lived near the church and were members of it. And so the vision dawned upon me of the Larger Parish. In my own mind I annexed all the surrounding country and began to make plans for the evangelization and helping of all the people who dwelt therein. So under the stimulus of foreign missions the vision came of the work that should be done and could be done nearer home.
And it may be well to add that since the work of the Larger Parish began, the contributions to foreign missions have more than doubled. There are those all over this wide territory who knew little and cared less about missions three years ago, but who now are eager to make some contribution to the support of the missionary in China, half of whose salary our Church is pledged to provide.
And so the vision came, from above as all good visions do, but it came while walking in the pathway of duty, in the unfolding of a larger experience. He who follows the dawning light will see the vision.