In the days gone by, before becoming acquainted with my Savior, I had both entertained and been entertained sumptuously; but never, never had I so enjoyed a banquet, never had I been more happy than with these guests.
In the summer-time of that year following these occurrences we were boycotted. Strange and various worldly procedures for the raising of money in the different churches were causing much comment. The matter reached my ears, and, like Jeremiah and some of the other prophets of old, I proceeded to tell Father what a stumbling-block this was to both sinner and saint and how it grieved my soul, and besought him to warn them.
He gave me answer from Isaiah, sixth chapter. (Please read it.) He spoke to my soul in the night, saying, "Thus saith the Lord, Say unto these people, Thou shalt read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest, Ezekiel, third and fourth chapters, also Matthew, sixth chapter, twenty-fourth verse." He brought Isa. 6:6-8 so before my mental vision that I lay on my bed trembling from head to foot.
A union prayer service, the last of the season, was to take place in one of the churches on the following Wednesday evening. I was impressed on Tuesday to announce to the mission audience that we should on that occasion attend this union service. I made no mention to them of the message the Lord was trusting me to give, nor did I know how he would have it delivered. My soul was heavily burdened, and a great fear took possession of me, as I entered the basement of that church, which was soon filled with members and pastors representing the various denominations, also many of the mission attendants. The subject I well remember—"The Forgiving Spirit." It was beautifully discussed and handled, causing me to think that under these circumstances the Lord would possibly excuse me. In order to find out, I reverently opened my Bible. My eyes fell on one word in big capitals—"JONAH." Oh! I must obey; but how? I waited and watched. Soon came a call for voluntary prayer, and I received my cue when Brother Smith of the Seventh-day Adventists prayed. Testimony was next in order. Following one or two brief testimonies, I mechanically arose, and gave out the message just as it had come to me from the Lord, and then sat down—a great burden now off my soul. Painful silence followed, but finally a brother (Sunday-school teacher) arose. "Let us see what this means," he said. "I will read Ezekiel 3"; and he proceeded to read. Then a brother on the opposite side spoke—"I will read Ezekiel 4." Pastor M—- next said, "And I will read Matt. 6:21, after which we will proceed with our testimonies." But they did not. They could not. After a long silence only one arose. She gave an honest answer, promising God never so to offend him in the future.
On my way home Satan said to me, "Now you're in for it." Sure enough. I comforted myself by audibly singing as I walked along, "Jesus Lover of My Soul." Maybe you think I was frightened and miserable. Not so. I could not have been happier; for the load was lifted, my conscience was clear.
On the following Monday evening we expected one of the pastors, by previous appointment, to preach in the mission. We waited. He never came. I was sent for to come to his parsonage the following morning, and there I learned this: "At a special ministerial meeting, which took place on Monday morning, the Woodland pastors took action with regard to the attitude assumed toward the churches by the woman, Mrs. Florence Roberts, now in charge of the City Gospel Mission. A motion was made, seconded, and unanimously adopted to boycott said mission and said worker."
Was the mission thereafter a failure? No, praise the Lord! It prospered, and it still prospers in the hands of the various workers the Master sends from time to time. He kept me there three years, and never did I lack for the things needful. In that time was I absent twice for short periods, but the mission nightly continued its precious office work under the guidance of the Holy Spirit.
CHAPTER X.
A BRIEF CALL TO SACRAMENTO—I ENTER THE SAN FRANCISCO FIELD.
Both those periods of absence were occasioned by the return of my son, who now had made two trips to and from the Philippines. After the second one he decided to return to Sacramento, if I would make a little home for him. His stay was of but a few months' duration notwithstanding our cozy, comfortable quarters, for the spirit of roving still possessed him, and erelong he shipped as an employee on one of the large passenger steamers bound for Australia. Then, at the repeated requests of many, I returned to Woodland, from which place I eventually accepted a call to the rescue work in San Francisco. There I made my home with Sister Kauffman, whose name and calling has already been briefly mentioned. For a long time we worked together for the inmates of The Home of Peace, and each Sunday morning at 9:30 o'clock I, with other Christians, could be found at the county jail, No. 3, adjacent to the Ingleside district and about three and one-half miles distant from the city center. Of this branch of the work we will speak hereafter.