John Alexander Dowie
By John Alexander Dowie (1847 â 1907)
I sat in my study in the parsonage of the Congregational Church at Newtown, a suburb of the beautiful city of Sydney, Australia. My heart was very heavy, for I had visited the sick and dying beds of more than thirty of my flock, and I had cast the dust to its kindred dust into more than forty graves within a few weeks. Where, oh where, was He Who used to heal His suffering children? No prayer for healing seemed to reach His ear, and yet I knew His hand had not been shortened. Still it did not save from death even those for whom there was so much in life to live for God and others. Strong men, fathers, good citizens, and more than all, true Christians sickened with a putrid fever, suffered nameless agonies, passed into delirium, sometimes with convulsions, and then died.
Oh, what aching voids were left in many a widowed or orphaned heart. There were many homes where, one by one, the little children, the youths and the maidens lay stricken, and after a hard struggle with the foul disease, they too, lay cold and dead. It seemed sometimes as if I could almost hear the triumphant mockery of evil ringing in my ear whilst I spoke to the bereaved ones the words of Christian hope and consolation. Disease, the foul offspring of its father, Satan, and its mother Sin, was defiling and destroying the earthly temples of Godâs children and there was no deliverance.
There I sat with sorrow-bowed head for my afflicted people, until the bitter tears came to relieve my burning heart. Then I prayed for some message, and oh, how I longed to hear some words from Him Who wept and sorrowed for the suffering long ago, a Man of Sorrows and Sympathies. The words of the Holy Ghost inspired In Acts 10:38, stood before me all radiant with light, revealing Satan as the Defiler, and Christ as the Healer. My tears were wiped away, my heart strong, I saw the way of healing, and the door thereto was opened wide, so I said, âGod help me now to preach the Word to all the dying around, and tell them how Satan still defiles, and Jesus still delivers, for He is just the same today.â
A loud ring and several raps at the outer door, a rush of feet, and there at my door stood two panting messengers who said, âOh, come at once, Mary is dying; come and pray. âWith just a feeling as a shepherd has who hears that his sheep are being torn from the fold by a cruel wolf, I rushed from my house, ran without my hat down the street, and entered the room of the dying maiden. There she lay groaning and grinding her clenched teeth in the agony of the conflict with the destroyer. The white froth, mingled with her blood, oozing from her pale and distorted mouth. I looked at her and then my anger burned. âOh,â I thought, âfor some sharp sword of heavenly temper keen to slay this cruel foe who is strangling that lovely maiden like an invisible serpent, tightening his deadly coils for a final victory.â
In a strange way, It came to pass; I found the sword I needed was in my hands, and in my hand I hold it still and never will I lay It down. The doctor, a good Christian man, was quietly walking up and down the room, sharing the motherâs pain and grief. Presently he stood at my side and said, âSir, are not Godâs ways mysterious?â Instantly the sword was flashed in my hand, the Spiritâs sword, the Word of God. âGodâs way?!â I said, pointing to the scene of conflict, âHow dare you call that Godâs way of bringing His children home from earth to Heaven? No sir, that is the devilâs work and it is time we called on Him Who came to destroy the work of the devil, to slay that deadly foul destroyer, and to save this child. Can you pray, Doctor, can you pray the prayer of faith that saves the sick?â At once, offended at my words, my friend was changed, and saying,â You are too much excited, sir, it is best to say âGodâs will be done,ââ and he left the room.
Excited?! The word was quite inadequate for I was almost frenzied with divinely imparted anger and hatred of that foul destroyer, disease, which was doing Satanâs will. âIt is not so,â I exclaimed, âno will of God sends such cruelty, and I shall never say âGodâs will be doneâ to Satanâs works, which Godâs own Son came to destroy, and this is one of them.â Oh, how the Word of God was burning in my heart: âJesus of Nazareth went about doing good, and healing all that were oppressed of the devil; for God was with Him.â And was not God with me? And was not Jesus there and all His promises true? I felt that it was even so, and turning to the mother I inquired,â Why did you send for me?â To which she answered, âDo pray, oh pray for her that God may raise her up.â So we prayed.
What did I say? It may be that I cannot recall the words without mistake, but words are in themselves of small importance. The prayer of faith may be a voiceless prayer, a simple heartfelt look of confidence into the face of Christ. At such moment, words are few, but they mean much, for God is looking at the heart. Still, I can remember much of that prayer unto this day, and asking God to aid, I will attempt to recall it. I cried, âOur Father, help! and Holy Spirit, teach me how to pray. Plead Thou for us, oh, Jesus, Savior, Healer, Friend, our Advocate with God the Father. Hear and heal, Eternal One! From all disease and death, deliver this sweet child of yours. I rest upon the Word. We claim the promise now. The Word is true, âI am the Lord that heals thee.â Then heal her now. The Word is true, âI am the Lord, I change not.â Unchanging God, then prove Yourself the healer now. The Word is true. âThese signs shall follow them that believe in My Name, they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.â And I believe and I lay hands in Jesusâ Name on her and claim this promise now. Your Word is true. âThe prayer of faith shall save the sick. Trusting in You alone. I cry. Oh, save her now, for Jesusâ sake. Amen!â
Then, the maid lay in sleep so deep and sweet that the mother asked in a low whisper, âIs she dead?â âNo,â I answered, in a whisper lower still. âMary will live; the fever is gone. She is perfectly well and sleeping as an infant sleeps.â I was smoothing the long dark hair from her now peaceful brow, and feeling the steady pulsation of her heart and cool moist hands. I saw that Christ had heard, and that once more, as long ago in Peterâs house, âHe touched her and the fever left her.â Turning to the nurse, I said, âGet me at once, please, a cup of cocoa and several slices of bread and butter.â Beside the sleeping maid we sat quietly and almost silently until the nurse returned, and then I bent over her and snapping my fingers called, âMary!â
Instantly she woke, smiled and said, âOh, sir, when did you come? I have slept so long;â then stretching her arms out to meet her motherâs embrace, she said, âMother, I feel so well.â âAnd hungry, too?â I asked, pouring some of the cocoa in a saucer and offering it to her when cooled by my breath. âYes, hungry too,â she answered with a little laugh, and drank and ate again, and yet again until all was gone. In a few minutes, she fell asleep, breathing easily and softly. Quietly thanking God. We left her bed and went to the next room where her brother and sister also lay sick of the same fever. With these two, we prayed and they were healed too. The following day all three were well and in a week or so they brought me a little letter and a gift of gold, two sleeve links with my monogram, which I wore for many years. As I went away from the home where Christ as the Healer had been victorious, I could not but have somewhat in my heart of the triumphant song that rang through Heaven, and yet I was not a little amazed at my own strange doings, and still more at my discovery that He is just the same today.
Excerpt from the Sermons of John Alexander Dowie Champions of Faith by Gordon Lindsay
lean into the hill - a runnerâs lesson for the christian life
Sometimes I wonder if the apostle Paul might have been a runner. Running is a curiously common theme in his sermons and letters. He refers to his own life and ministry as running (1 Corinthians 9:26; Galatians 2:2; Philippians 2:16) and describes the Galatiansâ (past) faith in similar terms, âYou were running wellâ (Galatians 5:7). He also asks the Thessalonians to pray for him, âthat the word of the Lord may speed [run] ahead and be honoredâ (2 Thessalonians 3:1). He speaks of human effort and exertion (in contrast to divine mercy in election) as running (Romans 9:16 NASB). He preached in Antioch about John the Baptist âfinishing his courseâ (Acts 13:25), expressed to the Ephesian elders his desire that âonly I may finish my courseâ (Acts 20:24), and wrote in his final letter, âI have finished the raceâ (2 Timothy 4:7). While walking  serves as his more common image of the Christian life (nearly thirty times in his letters), Paulâs theology had a place for speaking in more intense, even aggressive terms as well â of a kind of athletic capacity in the Christian life, as he wrote to the Corinthians, Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it. (1 Corinthians 9:24) Whether Paul was a runner or not, many Christians have testified (myself included) to finding the regular experience of pushing the body beyond comfort to be of value beyond just physical health. Paul, after all, asserts that âbodily training is of some value,â even as he emphasizes that âgodliness is of value in every wayâ (1 Timothy 4:8). And bodily training is all the more valuable when it serves godliness â when lessons learned in pushing the body translate directly into the instincts of a healthy soul. Lean into the Hill We each face our own hills each day. It might begin with getting out of bed. It might be initiating a conversation we expect to be difficult. Or starting into work or schoolwork or yard work. We all encounter hills; some more, some less. And when we do, it takes more effort to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Again and again, we face challenges big and small. And when we do, what is our default? Will we keep stepping? Slow down? Stop all together? Or lean in? Fellow runners might know the feeling. Youâre tired but continuing to strain toward the finish. You come upon a hill. Your natural response will be to slow down and slog through it. Stopping to walk can feel tempting. But another mentality is to lean in. Push yourself to get over it. Pummel your body for a purpose, as Paul did (1 Corinthians 9:27). Expend more energy first. Get over the hill sooner, then enjoy the down slope. Once a runner has learned what rewards lie on the other side of a hill, âleaning inâ can become the new default, and become an instinct to develop in the rest of life â learning to press through resistance, rather than backing off as a reflex. Develop the Instinct It is human and modern to take the path of least resistance and avoid the hills in life we know we should be climbing each day. This is one reason we can be so easily distracted. Itâs not just our latest devices and the savvy attention merchants tricking us into distraction. Deep down we want to be distracted. Humans have craved and found distractions for centuries; the digital avenues for it have simply made distraction even easier. We typically want to avoid what we know we really should be doing because the hills that matter most are the hardest ones to climb. âThe hills that matter most are the hardest ones to climb.â Hereâs where âbodily trainingâ and exercise helps not only the body but the will. Physical exertion can help us develop the mentality to lean into tasks we resist instead of avoiding them and procrastinating â to âtake resistance as a spur to action instead of avoidanceâ (Mark Forster, Get Everything Done , 152). Instead of automatically slowing down, or turning around, when we come to a hill, we can learn to lean in . Learn to see the right hills as opportunities for fruitfulness, for what really matters â for genuine âproductivityâ on Godâs terms. Today we are surrounded by a wealth of technologies that condition our souls and bodies to expect comfort, and encourage our minds to go to work calculating easiest means  rather than best outcomes . Without intentionality, we will be shaped by our fleshâs path of least resistance rather than the Spiritâs call to bear fruit. If we donât take deliberate steps to rise above the increasingly low bars of discomfort in our society, we will be pulled down into the pit of lethargy around us. We will become (or remain) modern, soft, increasingly lazy, sedentary, and unproductive. But in Christ, we have cause to move in another direction â to ânot be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of [our minds]â (Romans 12:2), and bodies. To present them as living sacrifices (Romans 12:1). When in doubt, we donât want to default to whatâs easiest. We want to pursue whatâs most important, knowing that such things are typically the most mentally, emotionally, and physically demanding. Look Through the Hill One way to learn to âlean into the hillâ is to learn to look to the reward. For the runner, it is âthe eyes of faithâ that fuel us to press harder, when part of us would rather slow down, because weâre looking beyond the hill in front of us. Just a few more minutes, and the hill will be behind me, and I will be happier for having leaned in rather than having given in. The more we learn to look to the reward on the other side of the hill, the more â strange as it may seem at first â we learn to taste joy even on the upside. Even now. The eyes of faith begin to realize , or taste , in seed form, in the moment of hardship, the joy that is to come. Faith is a tasting now, in the present and its discomforts, of the full reward to come. Whether Paul made a habit of running or not, he had learned how to lean in. When he met conflict in Philippi, he leaned in, and bade the church do so with him. âIt has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in him but also suffer for his sake, engaged in the same conflict  that you saw I had and now hear that I still haveâ (Philippians 1:29â30). Resistance to the gospel challenged the apostle. But he didnât back down. He engaged. He leaned in. He continued to run, and invited others to join him. So too in Thessalonica. Conflict came, and Paul leaned in. âThough we had already suffered and been shamefully treated at Philippi, as you know, we had boldness in our God to declare to you the gospel of God in the midst of much conflictâ (1 Thessalonians 2:2). And yet, example though he is, Paul is not the supreme leaner, but his Lord. Jesus Leaned In Jesus âset his face to go to Jerusalemâ (Luke 9:51). Why? âFor it cannot be that a prophet should perish away from Jerusalemâ (Luke 13:33). This was emphatically not the easiest path but the hardest. The greatest of hills. He would perish , he said, and in the worst possible way: on a cross. âEven as shame was set immediately before Jesusâs face, he looked to the joy on the far side, and leaned into the Hill.â When Hebrews exhorts us to ârun with endurance the race that is set before usâ (Hebrews 12:1), he also shows us how: â looking to Jesus , the founder and perfecter of our faith,â who leaned in, himself looking to the reward â âwho for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of Godâ (Hebrews 12:2). The resistance mentioned is not the one we might expect: shame. We cringe at even the thought of the physical anguish of the cross. And we should; it was literally excruciating. And yet what Hebrews highlights here is not the physical pain, horrible as it was, but the shame. It was a public, prolonged, naked execution at a crossroads. The unspeakable bodily pain of the cross would have been equaled, if not surpassed, by the shame. Yet such pain and shame  didnât send Jesus retreating. Rather, he saw the reward on the other side of the shame. Even as such barriers were set immediately before his face, he looked to the joy on the far side, and leaned into the Hill.
