1. Tactful Initial Contacts
One day, while going about in the streets, I was suddenly stopped by an elderly man who, without any word of introduction, accosted me with the following question: "Young man, are you saved?" I certainly was not accustomed to such questions. In my church these questions were never asked, and, after all, was I not an unbeliever? But the question needed to be answered. A young man of my character was not to be embarrassed by such questions, so at once I became a good Catholic again, and replied: "I surely hope to be saved!"
The good old man smiled kindly, as one accustomed to receiving similar answers, and very calmly said: "I did not ask if you hope to be saved, but if you are today sure of your salvation!" That "today" was another embarrassing thing. My brain was not used to thinking that way. Then, the same as now, Catholics were taught to believe in the power of mass, in the power of good works, in the power of paid prayers, in the power of pilgrimages, etc., as a means of salvation. How could I be sure that I would be able to accomplish enough such good works to lead me to heaven? How could I be sure that I would be able to store up enough money to be used for masses, prayers, etc., after the departure of my soul from this earth?
The old man saw my trouble in searching for an adequate answer, and instead of trying to take advantage of my weakness, he came to my rescue by changing the subject. "Have you ever read the Bible?" he asked.
My answer was a prompt, "No!"
"Why not?" he queried.
"Because it is forbidden in my church to read that book. In order to read it, a lay member must have special permission from the priest, or even from the bishop, and such permission is not easily obtained."
"I will not discuss with you," he said, "the question of any church's right to prohibit the reading of the Bible, but I will ask you one more question, the last one for this time. If such a book, a Bible, were in your possession, would you read it?"
"Perhaps," was my reply. My interlocutor understood the meaning of that "perhaps." He asked for my address, and two days later I received a Bible as a present from my unknown friend.
That was the beginning of my conversion to the reformed faith—the faith that places salvation in the blood of Calvary, and not in human works for the forgiveness of sins. The expression, so common among the Catholic laity, "I hope to gain heaven" has no more been uttered by my lips. Through the Book, I learned that heaven was open to me. gained by the blood so graciously offered by the Son of God and accepted by the Father. I now believe in producing "good Christian works" as the fruits of my salvation, not as a way or means for obtaining salvation.
As time passed, I learned that the man who stopped me in the street was a colporteur employed by a Bible society, and that he was a member of a Protestant church. , He did not argue with me. He did his best not to attack what I presented to him as my belief or the teachings of my church. The plan he followed was to give a Bible to me—a young man he merely met on the street—with the hope that I would read it.
Two or three years later, I became acquainted with Seventh-day Adventists. When for the first time I went to the small Sabbath school held in one of the rooms of an evangelist's home, I was not a little surprised to see that elderly Protestant colporteur there also. Like Nicodemus of old, he was secretly visiting with those who kept the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus.
Thirty-five years have passed since then. For many years the old colporteur has been resting in his grave. But I feel thankful to God and to him that he aroused my interest in the Word of God, in such a wise manner, and with so smiling a face.
I believe in approaching Catholics the way that faithful colporteur approached me. Strong arguments are good, but not for the opening of the way into hearts. Surgeons put their trust in their surgical instruments, for they know their usefulness, their indispensability. But they know also that it is not necessary to show them to the trembling patient who is to be saved by their use. In the Bible there are strong truths against Catholics. These passages could be quoted against them; but we must be wise and tactful in their use.
II. Public Work for Catholics
Thirty years ago I was sent as a missionary to a Catholic country. It was my first missionary experience. I was the only Adventist in the big city in which I started my work.
I had to plan alone with God for my missionary efforts. Although I had much determination and enthusiasm along with my twenty years, I trembled before the herculean task. 1VS I look back today, I am astonished at the coteitage I then had, and the only explanation I have for the success that attended my efforts is tke great faith I had in God and in the mes=sage of the advent movement.
My public meetings were advertised by handbills of the cheapest material. The titles, which I had borrowed from one of our old veterans, were such that only Protestants could be interested. Catholics immediately recognized them as heretical doctrines. I was a young man, and had many lessons to learn.
In those days, our evangelists would have some of our favorite hymns or songs sung and a prayer offered both before and after a lecture. During the lecture, the words, "My dear brethren. and sisters," would often ring out to our astonished listeners. Some would leave the hall at the beginning of the song, and others in the middle of the lecture. Many of these we never saw again. Singing and praying, as well as the use of the words "brethren and sisters," are all right in their proper time and place, but not in a lecture delivered to Catholics.
Some sixteen years ago, I greatly astonished our good brethren of the Belgian Conference committee, by telling them that I had decided to change my methods in evangelistic effort. One of them told me he would never stand before an audience without publicly praying for help and for the conversion of those who had come to the lecture. Realizing that a discussion was unwise at the time, I merely replied, "I must try." Before long, my colleagues saw that I had more people attending my lectures than , they had, and that I had more souls to baptize at the end of my efforts. That was the proof of a better way. Now eighty per cent of our workers are following the newer method, with better results.
When we invite people to a lecture. I feel that we must be fair to our visitors and not turn the lecture into a mixture of singing and prayer. We should consider Jesus not only as our Saviour, but also as the Master Evangelist. In none of the Gospels do I find Jesus having a song service and a public prayer before "opening His mouth" to preach His sermons. I find Him, going apart with His disciples for rest and prayer; I see Him alone in the garden of Mount Olivet, engaged in a most stirring moment of prayer; I see Him in the upper room in Jerusalem singing with His disciples. But I ask, where and when did He do thus in public teaching?
I believe we must be Jews with the Jews, and Greeks with the Greeks, in order to save them. And we must also adapt our methods to the Catholic background and way of thinking in order to help bring Catholics nearer to the Saviour they love, but know so little.
(To be continued)
