Pastor J.C.H. Collett, of Dehra Dun, India, sends us an interesting clipping from Gandhi's paper, Harijan. This article was called to his attention by an Indian who on a very rainy night formed one of an audience of two non-Adventists at one of his meetings. Thus he had a firsthand acquaintance with the experience in the title, "Preaching to Emptiness."
Stephen Grellet was a well-known Quaker preacher of the early nineteenth century. . . .
"S. G.," waiting on the Lord to shew him His will, was directed by the spirit to take a long journey into the backwoods of America and preach to the woodcutters who were hewing timber in those parts. Seeking for direction to know where he should go, he pictured a part of the forest he had visited before, but which had left his .mind, and a voice was heard in his own heart, saying distinctly but very gently, so that only he could hear it, "Go back there and preach to those lonely men." So he left his wife and home.
As he proceeded on his way a flood of happiness came over his soul. Coming near the place he both trembled and rejoiced. But he found it silent and deserted. The one big wooden hut that remained, had evidently not been used for many days. The woodcutters had moved on into the woods, and might not return for weeks. Could he have mistaken the voice? No, he could not believe that.
What should he do? He put up a silent Prayer. Through the windless silence of the forest came the answer : "Give your message. It is not yours but mine." So he strode into the building, went to the end of the room, and stood on a form as if there were one or two hundred eager listeners and preached to the empty building with a power he had never known in his life before. He spoke of the love of God as the greatest thing in the world, of how sin builds a wall between man and God, but the wall is thrown down in Jesus Christ, who longs to come and dwell with man.
S. G. thought of the silent woodcutters, rough wild men, and felt love for each one. How much greater, then, must be God's love for them! He prayed aloud for them. Finally, utterly exhausted by his effort, he threw his arms on the boards in front of him and hid his face in his hands. A long time passed. The place was still deserted. He noticed a poor mug, left as if to mock him. In his heart he hated the mug, and compared it with the beautiful utensils in his father's aristocratic house in Limoges in France. Why had he renounced beauty and luxury to follow a voice that led him on fool's errands to preach to nothing but a cracked mug? He wrestled with this mood, and overcame it. He took the mug, cleansed it carefully at a little stream, drank from it, ate some dry bread from his pocket, and felt himself enfolded in a sustaining life-giving presence. He rode home again like a man in a dream, conscious that he was not alone.
Years later he was crossing London Bridge in a crowd of people, wearing his habitual Quaker hat and coat. Suddenly someone seized him and said in a gruff voice: "There you are. I have found you at last, have I?"
S. G. remonstrated : "Friend, I think that thou art mistaken."
"No, I am not. When you have sought a man over the face of the globe year after year, you don't make a mistake when you find him at last." In a loud voice, regardless of the passers-by the man told his story. He had heard S. G. when he preached to nobody. He had gone back that day to get his lever from the deserted settlement. He had thought S. G. a lunatic, standing on the bench, preaching to emptiness, but had listened through the chinks. "Your, words went through a chink in my heart, though its walls were thicker than those of any shanty." He was ashamed to be seen, so slunk away back to camp, and was miserable for weeks.
Finally he got hold of a Bible. How the other men laughed ! He found the passage about the lost sheep. "It's share and share alike in the forest. I told the men all about it, just like you. I gave them no peace till everyone was brought home to God. Three went out to preach to other districts. At least a thousand have been brought home to the good shepherd by that sermon of yours which you preached to nobody."