About The Title
When I was a boy our family lived on a farm. We were only a quarter of a mile from the cultural center of the rural community which was represented by a frame schoolhouse and frame church building, both sitting on an acre of ground which had been conveyed by an early settler to be used for educational and religious purposes with a clause in the deed that if it ever ceased to be so used it would revert to the heirs and assigns of the donor. It was my good fortune to be selected as janitor for both buildings, a task for which I received six dollars per month from the schoolboard and two dollars per month from the church treasurer.
In memory I can still smell the sweeping compound which I sprinkled upon the pine floors to allay the dust, and I can still see the shed on the back of the lot with one side filled with corncobs to be used for kindling and the other side with coal to be used for fuel once the fires were started. We were a simple people of humble tastes and the facilities for teaching during the week and for corporate expression of praise on the Lord's Day were very limited. There was a general feeling that scholars should not be pampered and that "frills and fancy fixin's" were out of place in the worship of the lowly Nazarene.
The meetinghouse was a stern box-type structure without steeple, but with a belfry, because the bell had to be rung each first day of the week, even if all of the worshipers were already present. It acted as a signal that the service was ready to begin and no one would have thought of commencing until the dangling rope had been pulled at least ten times. There was a concrete porch in front which served as a convenient place for the men to pause and discuss current weather and crop conditions. During the week it became an outdoor dining area for the schoolboys who could lay out upon it their sandwiches of cold biscuit and colder bacon while the boiled eggs rested on the lid of the sirup bucket which served as a lunch pail.
There were two entrances to the meetinghouse, one for women and girls, the other for men and boys. Little boys lived for the day when they could be free from the clutch of their mothers and could sit on "the men's side." The seats had been made by a neighborhood carpenter, cynically referred to as a "wood butcher." Those who sat in them for long came to realize how pitifully meager must have been his knowledge of human anatomy and posture. They also looked forward eagerly to the opportunity of standing for prayer. Several of the seats were shortened on each side of the stove which was a large one. When it was glowing red on a cold day it was noticeable that the one or two obdurate sinners in the community sat farthest from it since it gave obvious and forceful illustration of the fate awaiting them as described from the speaker's platform.
That platform was not large but it was covered with a piece of Axminster rug which had been donated by a family at the time of their removal from the community and who wanted to give the congregation something by which to remember them. The speaker's stand was painted a drab gray to match the seats. This was known as "lead color" and it was easiest mixed in that day before various hues and tints became popular.
The worshipers dressed for meeting in quite simple fashion. Each of the women had a "Sunday dress" of black which was also worn to funerals. The older ones wore a stiff bonnet made on the same lines as the limper ones worn while working in the garden on weekdays. The men wore a clean pair of bib overalls with a colored hickory shirt. No one owned a white shirt, which was locally called a "biled shirt" because such an item required boiling in the huge iron wash kettle in order to remove the soiled appearance created by dust and perspiration. In any event a white shirt soon became yellowed after being subjected to the strong homemade lye soap which gave out a pungent odor even when the huge chunks were lying on the shelves in the smokehouse.
By modern standards the services would be sneered at because of their casual and informal nature. They always began with a song announced by the leader, with the congregation making up in volume and enthusiasm what they lacked in harmony and musical finesse. Several hymns were sung, followed by a scripture reading and prayer, after which the Bible study was led by one of the men, generally an elder, and then the Lord's Supper was observed. The entire congregation marched forward during the singing of a hymn and laid the contribution, a free-will offering, upon the table. Little children were permitted to go forward and put in a penny with the same concern that their parents put in their dimes and quarters. Occasionally someone who had been to the city to work returned and put in a five dollar bill. Such sums were thankfully received at the same time they aroused suspicion as to the giver's life while he was away from home.
Since I have grown I have traveled in many parts of the world and have spoken to thousands. I have visited famous cathedrals and have gazed at shrines regarded as sacred by various peoples. I have heard famous theologians and listened to renowned choirs. But I am not sure that I have found a way of spiritual life more satisfying than that I knew when I was a country lad. Then there was no discussion of the relative value of faith and works. It was taken for granted that the child of God would exhibit both. One did not share with a sick neighbor because it was his duty but because it was a part of his own life. "If one member suffered all of the members suffered with him." Charity drives were not necessary because the persons whom you would solicit were already over where the emergency existed doing their best personally to help out.
There have been great revolutions and upheavals in thought and behavior patterns. The industrial and technological advances which have been made under the impetus of scientific research, the ushering in of the Space Age with its thrilling and challenging potentials--these have combined with other factors to change us from an agrarian society and a rural populace to an urban society. Life is no longer simple but complex. Existence is not a mere struggle for survival against the forces of nature in our affluent culture. And the result is seen in our contemporary worship habits.
Housing projects and subdivisions now cover the land which a few short years ago was the haunt of rabbits and quail. Conformity is the rule in everything but the religious structures in suburbia. In these the architects allow their inventiveness to run wild and some of the results are bizarre and strange. It is as if those who dwell in deadly sameness during the week must find respite in something different on the first day of the new week. Sermons are carefully prepared to really say nothing when it appears that something is being said. The audience no longer consists of participants but of spectators. Frequently they draw nigh to God with their lips and honor him with their mouths but their hearts are far from him.
There is a tendency under these circumstances to look with supercilious disdain upon the lives and habits of our parents and grandparents. We speak with condescension of their lack of formal education and of the meagerness of their thinking. We tend to pity them because they were unworldly and other-worldly. But there was a peace and serenity within them which has escaped us in these days. I cannot help but believe that it came because they lived very close to God. They came to Jesus as a personal friend and they never doubted that he knew and understood both their joys and trials.
When I was casting about for a title which would define, as well as designate my purpose in this little volume I thought again about some of the "invitation songs" which were sung as the congregation implored their friends and neighbors who were unsaved to come to the cross of Christ. One of these songs lingers in my heart unto this day. It was entitled, "Will You Come?" The chorus is as follows:
O happy rest, sweet
happy rest,
Jesus will give you rest;
O why won't you come
in simple trusting faith?
Jesus will give you rest.
I have come to the conclusion that rest can only result from simple trusting faith. No other kind of faith can produce it. It is only when men repent and become as a little child that they can enter the kingdom. To those who could criticize this personal witness as being childish, I merely say that I prefer to think of it as child-like. As the apostle said, "We also believe and therefore speak."