Overlong prayer interrupted — the rest of the story

by Dan Phillips

The man who gave me my first pastoral training, David Morsey, told the story once of a meeting at which a man stood to open in prayer. The man went on and on, and after a time the meeting's leader arose and said, "While the brother finishes his prayer, let us turn to hymn 242."

It was one of those apocryphal-type stories that one hears, with various famous names attached (Wesley, Whitfield, and so on). After a time, one decides it may never have happened — but, if it didn't, it should have, and it still makes a good point.

I'm sure you know a number of the kind. Like the story of (Whitfield, Wesley, Whoever) walking down the street when a drunken bum grabs him arm and says "I'm one of your converts!" The great man replies, "Yes, you must be. If you were one of Christ's converts, you'd not be in this state." We all know a number of stories like this.

I quoted the long-prayer-interrupted one during our last Wednesday-night meeting, making the point that length in public prayer does not necessarily equal godliness. I noted that I couldn't source the story.

Imagine my delight when I did a bit of research, and found the specifics. It did actually happen. In fact, the story even gets better after the bit that's often told.

The leader in question was none other than D. L. Moody. A brother had been asked to pray, and he was going on and on. After a while, Moody stood and said, "Let us sing a hymn while our brother finishes his prayer." It's already a delightful and instructive story.

But the source of the story is British physician Dr. W. T. Grenfell, in his autobiography, A Labrador Doctor. It turns out that Grenfell himself had wearies of the prayer, and he'd taken his hat and was about to leave. Hear him tell it:

It was in my second year, 1885, that returning from an out-patient case one night, I turned into a large tent erected in a purlieu of Shadwell, the district to which I happened to have been called. It proved to be an evangelistic meeting of the then famous Moody and Sankey. It was so new to me that when a tedious prayer-bore began with a long oration, I started to leave. Suddenly the leader, whom I learned afterwards was D.L. Moody, called out to the audience, "Let us sing a hymn while our brother finishes his prayer." His practicality interested me, and I stayed the service out.

This meeting and what followed influenced Grenfell to become a medical missionary. Note this, from the article on Grenfell in the Dictionary of Christianity in America:

After five years ministering to deep-sea fishermen across the Atlantic, he visited Labrador in 1892 and resolved to devote his life to alleviating the misery of the poor folk there. Beyond numerous persons converted or strengthened in the faith, his over forty years of labor produced six hospitals, seven nursing stations, four hospital ships, four boarding schools, twelve clothing-distribution centers, about a dozen cooperative stores, a cooperative lumber mill, a dry dock and a YMCA/ YWCA He also developed cottage industries and directed the first mapping of the Newfoundland coast. Grenfell’s books and his visits to Britain, Canada and the U. S. raised funds for the mission and brought him acclaim. Among other honors, he was awarded Oxford’s first honorary M.D. in 1907 and was knighted in 1927. [Reid, D. G., Linder, R. D., Shelley, B. L., & Stout, H. S. (1990). In Dictionary of Christianity in America. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.]

And all because Moody cut short a "tedious prayer-bore" in a public meeting!

And now you know... well, you know.

---

Open Letter to Jon Meacham

by Frank Turk

Dear Mr. Meacham –

Back in 2008, you were working at Newsweek and your team of professionals decided to take on the question of marriage and whether or not it should be redefined. As I responded to you in full back then, I don’t have anything new to say on that subject, but I wanted to let you know I’m familiar with your work and your outlook on “Christian” things.

This month, TIME magazine has published its list of the 100 most-influential people in the world, and it’s an interesting compendium. From my desk, anyone who has heard of more than 30% of these people is probably a pretty avid world news buff. But as a list of people with substantial influence, that list can hardly be criticized for its inclusiveness or broad interest in how “influence” is demonstrated.

Rob Bell turns up on their list, and you’re the one who drafted his entry, crediting him for his contribution to Christian thought. Here’s what you said:

I particularly enjoyed the photo TIME included with your report as it included a subtle halo around Rob’s head, but I’ll bet you didn’t choose that photo. You did, however, choose to say something specific, and then adorn it with praise for Rob: a vexed church has wrestled with the question of hell for 2000 years.

I read that a few times in and out of context to make sure it's what you meant, and I'm convinced. So from my perspective, I only have one question for you: is it true?

What I am not going to do here is fall into the trap of arguing with you about it -- or arguing at you, since it's unlikely you'll respond to a Christian Lifestyle blog with fewer readers than Gismodo. But what I am going to do is think about that question for a moment in the hopes that others will join me in considering the matter.

How would we know the answer to that question? Is there a way to know whether or not the Christian faith (and specifically, the Christian church) has made any decisions about the doctrine of hell? If there's not, I think Rob Bell is actually a kind of snake-oil salesman -- because let's face it: he's portraying a doctrine of hell which he thinks other people ought to adopt. He's a partisan guy -- and we can see that in almost every interview he's done for his book so far. That is: he wants us to know that for certain the Greek word "Aeon" doesn't mean "forever and ever" (at least, not in reference to hell -- in reference to heaven he's convinced that the good stuff doesn't ever stop). He thinks that we do God a disservice by saying hell is punishment that lasts longer than the crime(s). He wants people to get a firm grip on the doctrine of hell -- and not fear it. We should embrace it as a commentary on what we do to ourselves.

What he doesn't want for them is a doctrine in which hell is an unquenchable verdict.

That's strange, isn't it -- if the story of salvation in the biblical discussion is, as you put it, contradictory, perhaps the problem is that Rob has put too fine a point on it. And if that's the case, I wonder why his influence is seen as so useful by yourself and by TIME.

So I ask you: is it true? If it is not in fact true, should you do anything about it?

Look: sometime around 60 AD, there was this fellow Paul -- he wrote a lot of books and letters in his day, so you may have heard of him. Anyway, around 60 AD he was rounded up by the religious leaders of his day, and by the Romans, and he was put on trial for what one account calls “serious charges,” but it was likely for sedition and upsetting the peace of the city of Jerusalem.

When Paul came up for trial, and he was asked to explain himself – to defend himself against the charges at-hand – he did a strange thing: he appealed to what actually happened to him. He said: “I am not insane, Most Excellent Festus. What I am saying is the sober truth. And King Agrippa knows about these things. I speak boldly, for I am sure these events are all familiar to him, for they were not done in a corner!”

For Paul, the question of who Jesus was, and what his purpose was on this Earth, was a question of truth -- of things not done in a corner which cause speculation or uncertainty but of things for which there are many witnesses.

But what is truth, Mr. Meacham? Is it something we need today, or is it something we have outgrown?

I ask that of you, and I leave it to you. I hope that there is something true, and that it finds you ready to receive it.

---