On our first visit to Liverpool, a well-known businessman (manager of eighty-nine butcher shops) was asked by his wife to accompany her to the meeting in Philharmonic Hall a certain evening. He consented to go but with no intention of keeping his promise. He was far more interested in prize fights than he was in evangelistic meetings. He was known all over the city as a patron of prize fights and had been a referee in many of them. When the evening to accompany his wife to the mission came, he found there was a great prize fight on. He tried to see if there wasn’t some way out of taking his wife to the hall, and slipping away to go into the fight. He tried being gruff to her, but this made no difference, she held him to his promise. Finally he said, “If I promised you to go, of course, I’ll take you.” When they got to the hall, they found the main floor reserved for men and the women were asked to go to the gallery. “Now,” thought he, “my chance for escape has come,” so he said to his wife, “You go into the gallery, and I’ll slip in down here,” but she knew him too well to be fooled that way, and insisted that he go into the gallery with her. He went but very much against his will. In spite of himself, he was soon interested.
The next night he slipped out of the house without saying a word to his wife and made his way to the Philharmonic Hall alone. The singing was in full swing when he reached the hall. Soon after getting his seat, he heard the men singing very softly,
“See! from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?”
He was completely overcome. He saw Jesus Christ on the cross for him, and forgetting the crowd and everything about him, he fell on his knees and sobbed. All through the evening the vision of Christ on the cross for him was before his eyes. He heard little of the sermon. He was occupied with but one thing, his Saviour dying for him. When the invitation was given out, he was the first to come to the front and profess his acceptance of Christ. He went home and told his wife that he had accepted Christ. To his surprise, she was not surprised. She said, “I knew you would do it, Ted. I have been praying for you for years, and recently we have been holding prayer meetings for your conversion, and I knew that God would answer my prayer.”
He became an active worker at once. Was constantly testifying in private and public to the saving power of Christ. Wherever he could find a mission going on, he would go and give his testimony. He was much in demand among the missions and churches to go and tell the story.
A former comrade met him one day on the street and said, “Ted, I have heard the biggest joke. I heard you were converted.” He replied, “Didn’t they tell you the rest of it? The rest of it is the best part of the joke.” “No, what is the rest?” “The rest of it is, it’s true,” and immediately he preached unto him Jesus.
About fifteen months afterward we went to Liverpool for the second mission, and this man was one of the best workers we had. He was constantly in attendance and constantly working to bring others to Christ. He bought a wagonette to bring people to the hall, and when they would try to excuse themselves from going, he would say, “If I drive around for you, will you go?” In this way he was able to bring many of his friends and neighbors to Christ.
One night I called on him for a testimony. He responded gladly and told in a thrilling way what the Lord Jesus had done for him. The man who was over him in the employ of the great firm he represented happened to be in the building and heard this testimony. After the meeting he came to him and said, “It is all very well your being a Christian, but if you are going around making a fool of yourself in this way, you will lose your position.” For a moment he was nonplussed and then replied, “I must be true to the Lord Jesus no matter what it costs, even if it costs me my position.” It did not cost him his position. On calm reflection his superior thought better of his foolish threat.