Inspiration from the life of Samuel Logan Brengle
by Gordon MacDonald
Many
years ago, I became acquainted with the writings of Samuel Logan Brengle, a
commissioner in the Salvation Army. I found his pattern of faith in Jesus
Christ attractive because of its joyfulness, toughness, and genuineness.
Brengle
was born in the Midwest and, in his growing-up years, dedicated himself to
Christian ministry as a Methodist preacher. In his youth, he dreamed of
occupying a prestigious pulpit and becoming an influential voice in American
religion.
An unlikely path
Because
of his natural gift as a speaker, Brengle might have realized his ambition. But
when a big church opportunity came, a Methodist bishop scotched the
appointment. Years later—with greater insight—Brengle reflected on that moment.
Losing that city church was the best thing that could have happened to
me. If I had gone to that appointment to work among those cultured and refined
people, I should have swelled with pride, tried to show off my spread-eagled
oratory and doubtless would have accomplished little. But out among the
comparatively illiterate and uncultured farmers of my circuit, I learned the
foundations of true preaching: humility and simplicity.
One
morning, while a divinity student in Boston, Brengle experienced, in addition
to his sense of conversion, a "second blessing," as my holiness
friends describe it. Of that moment, Brengle wrote:
On January 9, 1885, at about nine o'clock in the morning, God
sanctified my soul. He gave me such a blessing as I never had dreamed a person
could have this side of Heaven. It was a heaven of love that came in into my
heart. I walked out over Boston Common before breakfast, weeping for joy and
praising God. Oh, how I loved! In that hour I knew Jesus, and I loved Him till
it seemed my heart would break with love. I was filled with love for all His creatures.
I heard the little sparrows chattering; I loved them. I saw a little worm
wriggling across my path; I stepped over it; I didn't want to hurt any living
thing. I loved the dogs, I loved the horses, I loved the little urchins on the
street, I loved the strangers who hurried past me, I loved the heathen, I loved
the whole world.
Brengle's
biography, Portrait of a Prophet, has been a valued part of my library, and I
have read it several times. When I reflect on the life of this man, I gain
refreshment for my soul. In the biography's early pages comes the fascinating
story of Brengle's journey to England for training as an officer in the
Salvation Army. It is said that the General and founder of the Army, William
Booth, was disdainful of Brengle because he sensed in the young trainee's
demeanor a conceit which he felt would make the young man incompatible with the
unique culture of the Salvation Army. William Booth was hard to please.
But
Brengle persevered. Booth finally accepted him conditionally and sent him to an
Army "outpost" where his first task was to polish the boots and shoes
of Salvation Army officers. This Brengle did obediently, even gladly, as a
service to Jesus.
When
the General and other superiors were convinced that he was ready, Brengle returned
to the United States where he spent most of his life, first as a corps officer
(pastor), then as an evangelist and spiritual life teacher for other Corps
officers in every Salvation Army territory. Wherever he preached, people
committed themselves to Jesus or experienced powerful rededications of their
lives. Several of his books remain in print and are read by many Salvation Army
officers today. At the age of 76, Samuel Logan Brengle was, as the officers
like say, promoted to glory.
Heart of humility
If
Brengle lived today, I wonder how he would have coped with the celebrity status
that often adorns gifted communicators and clever authors who are packaged by
marketing, development and publicity strategies. Toward the end of his
ministry, Brengle wrote:
If I appear great in their eyes, the Lord is most graciously helping
me to see how absolutely nothing I am without Him, and helping me to keep
little in my own eyes. He does use me. But I am so concerned that He uses me
that it is not of me the work is done. The axe cannot boast of the trees it has
cut down. It could no nothing but for the woodman. He made it; he sharpened it;
and he used it. The moment he throws it aside, it becomes only old iron. O that
I may never lose sight of this.
Brengle's
view of himself (humility comes to mind) as God's servant might not make it in
the celebrity-driven venues today. But I believe that we could use a dose of
his humble spirituality in our contemporary Christian world.
One
night in Boston Brengle was attacked by a street person who hit him on the head
with a brick. The injury side-lined Brengle for almost two years. For the rest
of his life, he struggled with periodic depressions and vicious headaches. But
Brengle never lost his sense of calling and fervor for proclaiming the powerful
gospel of Christ. He never complained or whined about his misfortune. And he
never lost his power to persuade people.
When
a Salvation Army officer wrote to him admitting that he was in such despair
that he wanted to quit the ministry, Brengle responded:
You say in your note to me: "I was born to fight" and now
that you are in a real fight you feel that you are absolutely
"useless." No, no, you have often been on dress parade when you
thought you were fighting. When you were at the head of a lot of shouting men
and women, cheered by thousands, the Devil may have sat down, crossed his legs
and watched it all as a pretty performance. But he is on the job now. I imagine
that I hear him hiss; "Now I'll crush him! Now I'll smash his helmet of hope!
Now I'll rob him of his shield of faith. Now I'll break his sword of the
Spirit! Now I'll quench his spirit of prayer;"—and what a Devil he is.
Don't imagine that you are out of the fight. You are in it, and you must fight
the good fight of faith now, in loneliness and weakness. But you will triumph …
you were indeed born to fight.
I
have always liked this man, Brengle. When I grow up, I wouldn't mind being like
him.
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