Pentecostal Possibilities or "The Story of My Life"
by Milton Lorenzo (M. L.) Haney
CHAPTER 9
Called to the Ministry
After my conversion life became more real and its obligations more apparent. Time had been usually more precious to me than to other boys. I hugely enjoyed an earnest play, and had always a slight taste for hunting and fishing, but after a brief indulgence in either, the waste of time marred my enjoyment. From a child, I could never be satisfied with sitting hour after hour on the bank of a stream in search of fish without a bite! Nor could a half day be whiled way in hunting game without sensible loss, I think. I was born with a desire for money and very early the thought of being rich was very enchanting. When alone I would often feast my imagination on schemes of future greatness. One time I would be the owner of magnificent herds of cattle, then a dry goods merchant of immense resources. Emerging from childhood, I leaned toward being a physician, and the practice of medicine had, for me, much that was desirable. I think now, if God had not thrust me into the Christian ministry, I would have taken that profession, but the desire for money was, as I now recognize it, a strong and widely prevailing tendency, which, even after my conversion, did me much harm. Satan took advantage of this trend of my soul, and I do not doubt from early childhood kept these visions before me, putting into wealth false conceptions of pleasure and rest and happiness; which have never been found by any human being in either the pursuit, or possession of money.
Being born for a gospel minister, this trend of my soul was probably its greatest hindrance. Hence in childhood calamities began, and every plot and plan for increase of substance was cut off. When ripening into manhood, blow after blow was struck at this ambition, and business calamities pursued me past middle years, I wanted money. God saw with money I would perish, and because He loved me turned my wisdom into foolishness. Though I never did a mean or intentionally dishonest act, I suffered from financial embarrassment as God only knows, but I want here to record that to Him I purpose endless thanksgiving that I could not have my own way! Eternity will show that my most painful disasters were among my greatest blessings, and that in the loss of all things I found God! I coveted a thorough education, but was thwarted at every turn and in seemingly marvelous ways were my plans broken up. My greatest trial was that others suffered with me and I was helpless to relieve them.
But in the immediate years following my conversion it became plain that my life should be given to the work of the ministry. At the same time, I suffered from timidity in the simplest activities of the church. I have no recollection of once neglecting a prayer or class meeting, and heartily loved the means of grace: but when called to lead in prayer, or testify publicly, the cross seemed many times unbearable. The next Sabbath after my conversion there was prayer and class meeting at my father's house. The leader addressed each person present in those days, and I knew I would be asked to speak. While trembling concerning it, a company of young people who were Universalists, entered the room, which added to my perturbation. Now, what should I do? Being seated near a table on which lay a small Bible, I turned and threw it open and my eyes fell upon the word: "The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?" Ps. 27: I. So wonderful was the impression made by these words that I had victory, and in more than sixty years I think this verse has never been read in my hearing that this incident has not at once come before me. O, if timid souls would only lean on the promises of God how great would be their deliverance in every time of need. Year after year the fear of man was a great hindrance to my growth as a Christian, and God only knows what it cost me. Working hard upon a farm, I usually attended two prayer meetings each week, going three miles to one and four to the other, but often perspired like a man in a hay harvest while there, with fear that I should be called on to pray. I often watched my chance to hide behind some person, or a post, that I might escape these activities. I then had three brothers in the ministry and my father was a preacher, so more was expected of me than I felt able to perform.
In my 19th year I went to study with my brother Richard, who at the time was stationed in Peoria. The following evening he was to open a revival meeting, and before night came he referred to my shrinking from the activities of the church, and bluntly suggested the time had now come when all this foolishness must end. A preliminary prayer service was appointed before he preached, and he said I had better go into that, which I gladly did, for I was a stranger and had met but one of his members, a young brother Hepperly, who was afterwards a minister. I walked bravely to the front without fear of detection, but as I sat down this Bro. Hepperly turned and spoke to the leader, and they both looked at me! They were singing, but when they closed, the leader said: "Will young brother Haney lead us in prayer!" The thought of disgracing my brother by refusing rushed in upon me, and I prayed, and when we rose there stood my brother in the aisle an attentive hearer of what I had said. From the beginning I had shrunk more from public prayer than all other church activities and yet the church had always been pressing me forward at that point. Richard was a powerful preacher and the altar was soon filled with penitents. I could easily talk with sinners in the congregation and did so, I think, every night, but Satan had a fearful grip on me about praying. Several nights had passed with an altar full of seekers, but none converted, which was a very unusual thing with Methodists in those days. I was inside the altar, talking with a penitent I had brought there, when the pastor called on a brother to pray and "Brother Milton to follow!" I sunk in despair, but rallied and turned to an old brother near me, asking him to pray in my place. He gave me a sharp push with his hand. and said in a disgusted tone, "Pray yourself." I turned back upon my knees and vowed to God that from that minute till I died, in the strength of grace, I would pray whenever it was my duty without a moment's hesitation, and when the brother said amen, I began to pray and something broke loose in me, and I have never feared to pray nor needed liberty in prayer from that day to this!
Blessed be God! That was not a mere resolve, it was the settlement of a question never before settled. It was an illustration of the difference between an endless series of resolutions and real consecration. Had I known how, I would have been wholly sanctified that night! I have no recollection of ever having in these sixty-nine years, since that night to resolve that I would pray wherever it was my duty. To reach a relation where all other questions of obedience are settled like that was settled is entire consecration, a transaction which never needs to be repeated.