You must not suppose, however, that any one could preach the straight
gospel very long in such a place without meeting opposition. One night
while my brother and I were holding our first series of meetings, at a
schoolhouse on Dry Creek, in Maries County, Missouri, a mob of about a
dozen drunken men came with the intention of breaking up the meeting. When
they came, the service had not yet begun. The men entered the room in a
boisterous way, talking loudly, and acting in an offensive insulting manner
toward every one in the room. I do not remember just how it came about, but
for some reason one of the men caught hold of my brother and gave him a
jerk that sent him whirling for some distance across the room. I was afraid
that Jeremiah was in danger; but when I saw that he was not at all
frightened, my fears subsided. There was so much noise and loud talking,
however, that we could not begin the meeting, so we offered earnest prayer
that the Lord would take charge of things and quell the disturbance. I
tried to preach, but there was still too much confusion.
While I was standing in the pulpit, one of the drunk men near the door
pointed a revolver at me, but God protected me: the weapon did not go off.
The man who had pointed the revolver at me, soon went out, accompanied by
his comrades and by a number of other men who wanted some of the whiskey.
Some of the women went to the door to beg their husbands and brothers to
come in, and stood there crying, fearful that their relatives would be
killed. I went to the door and said to the women, "Come in. If there is any
trouble you can do nothing to prevent it." "We would come in too," said one
of the rowdies, "but you always begin on us." "No," I answered, "we will
not begin on you. We shall be glad to have you come in, and we shall expect
you to behave yourselves."
Most of the men outside came in, and the meeting began. The Lord gave me
the message. During my discourse, I said, "Fools make a mock at sin, but
who is it that mocks God?" "No fools, no tun. You know that too," cried one
of the men. Then he began to say the Lord's prayer, but was too drunk to
finish it. I paid no attention to the interruption, and continued my
sermon. There was no more disturbance, and not a revolver was fired until
the mob was some distance from the house. One of the men gave himself up
the next day and three others were arrested. They were a shamefaced set of
fellows after it was all over.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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