CHAPTER 32 JOHN STRANGE
CHAPTER 32 JOHN STRANGE This talented and useful preacher was a native of Virginia. He was born on the 15th day of November, 1789 and when quite a boy emigrated to the wilds of Ohio. Here, under the ministrations of the early pioneer fathers of Methodism, he embraced the religion of the Lord Jesus Christ, and united with, the Methodist Episcopal Church. It was not long after his conversion that his talents and piety were exhibited to such a degree as to convince the Church, in connection with his own deep and powerful impressions, that he was called of God to enter the ministry. In the year 1810 he commenced his itinerant career under the venerable Quinn. His first circuit was Wills Creek, in the wilds of Muskingum, where he labored, with all the zeal and fire of youth, in proclaiming the Gospel to sinners. The next appointment which he received was Cincinnati, as the colleague of the venerable Burke. He traveled successively Whitewater, Oxford, Lawrenceburg, Whiteoak, Mad River, and Union circuits, and Charlestown and Indianapolis districts. His excessive labors, however, proved too much, for his constitution, and during his whole ministerial life, with but slight intervals of rest, he was in abundant labors;
"For Jesus day and night employed, His heritage he toiled to clear."
He was regarded, both in Ohio and Indiana — in the latter of which states he spent the close of his life — as a faithful, eloquent, and beloved minister of Jesus Christ. Numerous seals to his ministry, which will, doubtless, be stars in the crown of his rejoicing in the day of eternity, are to be found all over the west. On the second of December, 1834, in, the forty-fifth year of his age, and the twenty-third of his ministry, he was called away by the gentle summons of his Master, to that world where labor is exchanged for rest, and prayer is lost in praise.
One who was entirely ignorant of the life of a preacher wrote the following: "How full of beauty, how desirable and picturesque, is the life of a preacher, especially in the country! Religion and poetry dwell with him like twin sisters, and his thoughts, when turned aside from heaven, rest on all that is most beautiful on earth." The truth is, the enjoyment of a faithful minister does not consist in His repose. When but a single glance upon the exhausting demands which are made upon his mind and body — demands under which many sink to an untimely grave; when we think of his exposure to wounds upon his feelings through all his every-day duties — wounds which, he must bear in silence, or be liable to be charged with having a wrong spirit — his being cut off from the common resources of men, and made dependent for a support upon those for whom he labors, and thereby the selfishness of men is armed against him add to all this that the sorrows of others lay a tax upon his sympathies, and compel him to bear a part; when all these are considered, this picture will be regarded as extremely fanciful.
Whoever enters the ministry for the poetry of it will find the thorn with the rose. A thistle, when seen in the far-off distance, may contribute as much as the lily to beautify the landscape; but when it is approached and grasped its thorns are felt. So it is with, the preacher’s life to those who look at it from a distance. His position may be regarded as the abode of poetry and Elysian sweets; but an experience of short duration will soon correct the error, and show how toilsome, and often unthankful, is his profession. To the Methodist preacher it is hard service and poor fare, so far as this world is concerned; and were it not for the comfortable reflection that the faithful shall be crowned with life, very few would enter the ranks of the itinerancy for the poetry connected with it. A beautiful tribute from the pen of one of Indiana’s most gifted daughters, with which we shall finish our sketch, will give the reader a better idea of the talents and character of the beloved Strange than any thing we could say:
"Among the heralds of salvation to a dying world, who have now sat down in our Father’s kingdom, there is no name that comes up from the dim remembrance of the past, with a holier and more endearing thrill, than that of John Strange. In the morning of life he heeded not the siren voice that would have lured him to the flower-wreathed paths of pleasure, or pointed out to him the high seats of what men call honorable renown; but trampling on the bright hopes of earthly greatness, which are ever busy in the heart of youth, he took up and bore to the end of his course the cross of the meek and lowly Savior. He was one of those men whom the Lord saw fit, in his wisdom, to endow with every Christian grace, and set apart to carry the glad tidings of salvation to the humble homes of the western pioneers; and through many a night, in the dark and lonely wilderness, he pillowed his weary head on the green earth without a covering, save the blue canopy of heaven. There was no privation, discouragement, or danger that could induce him to forsake his Master’s work; for he was truly a man that bore about with him, in his own body, the marks of the Lord Jesus.
"When he came to Indiana it was comparatively a wilderness, and there were many parts where the story of the cross was but seldom told. His fervent piety, superior talents, and zeal for the souls of dying men, soon made him a home at every hearth, and the sound of his name brought a thrill to every heart that loved the cause of the Redeemer; and O, it is a glorious thought, that while his immortal part is worshipping with the blood-washed throng around the eternal throne, his name is treasured up
"Amid fond memory’s sacred things," in many hearts that will one day be stars in his crown of rejoicing.
"He, mixing with the brilliant hosts above, Recounts the wonders of redeeming love; While list’ning angels hear with sweet surprise, And gusts of alleluiahs ring the skies."
"Perhaps I can not better give an idea of his manner of preaching than by giving an instance. It was understood, in a remote part of Indiana, where the Gospel was but seldom heard, that on a certain day John Strange would preach. It was at once set down as an era among the people; and, on the day appointed, they, with almost one accord, assembled at the place, which was the temple of God’s own building, the green, unbroken forest. Of the hundreds there collected, some had come to worship that God whom they had learned to love in the far-off land of their nativity, which they had exchanged for the wilderness, where the sound of the church-going bell might never salute them again; and some were there through mere curiosity, many of whom, perhaps, had never heard a sermon in their lives. Expectation was on, tiptoe; and it was evident, from the restless movements and anxious whisperings of the groups collected apart from, the crowd that something out of the common order was about to take place. All eyes were turned in one direction for a moment — the whispered words, ’The preacher’s come,’ were heard, and all was silent as the day dawn of creation.
He ascended the rude stand prepared for him, and sang a hymn, in a voice whose deep pathos went down into the heart, and seldom failed to cause some chord to vibrate there; then, as he kneeled beneath the bright blue sky, and poured his spirit out before the God that gave it, in behalf of those to whom he was sent with the words of everlasting life, the smothered sobs and flowing tears of the assembly, evinced the faith and fervor of that prayer. He then pointed out clearly the way of Salvation through the blood of a crucified Redeemer, and besought those who had found the pearl of great price to hold fast their confidence, till they had conquered death, their last enemy, and meet Him all glorious within the light of eternity, where they should enter upon that inheritance prepared for them from the foundation of the world. ’But my friends,’ said he, ’when the angel shall stand with one foot upon the sea and the other upon the land, and shall swear by Him that liveth forever and ever that time shall be no more; when the earth shall pass away and the heavens be rolled up as a scroll when the thrones are set, and the dead small and great, shall stand before the Lord, is there one here whose name shall not be found written in the Lamb’s book of life? Forbid it, Lord! If there is one here who has never tasted of the joys of salvation, I warn him by the terrors of that day to flee the wrath to come, and to do it now; for now is the accepted time; behold! now is the day of salvation; choose ye this day whom ye will serve; and O, be careful to make a wise choice! Jesus has paid your debt, and now stands ready to receive you. Will you believe it, and enlist under the blood-stained banner of the cross, or will you put it off to a more convenient season? Will you spend a never-ending eternity in the dark caverns of irremediable woe, or be ushered into the New Jerusalem with songs and everlasting joy upon your heads, when the Lord shall come to make up his jewels?’ His manner and shrill, soul-searching voice had raised with his feelings till they seemed to have reached their climax, and with his pale, upturned face and streaming eyes, he stood for a moment as if wrapped in the presence of the Lord; and then, as if the heavens were opened to his steadfast gaze, he exclaimed, with startling energy, "Glory, glory, glory be to God, who giveth us the victory!" It seemed as if the enchained attention of the audience was broken up by an electric shock, and the Spirit of the Lord seemed to fasten on every heart like cloven tongues of fire, and glory, glory, glory was echoed back from, every part of that worshipping assembly. Till the tale of time is told on the morning of eternity the effect of that sermon can never be known.
"I saw him shortly before he died, some ten years since, and never did I feel more sensibly the force of those beautiful lines of Dr. Young,
"The chamber where the good man meets his fate, Is privileged beyond the common walk of virtuous life — quite on the verge of heaven."
He was weak and very pale; but there was a serenity in his countenance that evinced to the beholder how easy it was for the Christian to die; and when he spoke of his departure hence, there was a gleam of glory upon his face that told there was a heaven in his heart. He had an interesting family, and when he spoke to them remarked, ’I love my children, and would be glad to leave them in better circumstances; for I have made no provision for them; but that God into whose hands I resign them has promised to provide. I have not labored for earthly treasure; but I have an inheritance up yonder, and I expect to meet them all at God’s right hand. Soon after this he entered upon that rest prepared for those that love and serve the Lord. His remains were deposited in the graveyard at Indianapolis by hundreds of mourning friends, who had known, him long and loved him well; and often are the bright flowers and green grass above that hallowed spot wet with the tears of those he was instrumental in bringing from nature’s darkness to the marvelous light of God’s dear children. There are few men who were more devoted, or spent their lives with an eye more single to the glory of God; few there certainly are who have done more good, were more revered, or will be longer remembered than John Strange.’’