I was known as a socialite, a lover of social gaieties. My husband and I filled our lives with a round of dinners, receptions, dances, and various forms of worldly entertainment. Although as a girl I had known a sincere desire to live a Christian life, I had fully yielded later to the lure and appetite for an unceasing whirl of excitement.
One day a friend, who had formerly been a companion in our social functions until she had been converted, invited my husband and me to attend Jerry McAuley's Mission on Water Street. Rather reluctantly my husband consented to take me.
We found the Mission room crowded with miserably poor, bedraggled people and vile smells. At first we felt a sort of pity toward the "poor creatures" around us. But as the meeting progressed we lost our sense of superiority and actually hung our heads in shame.
Following the singing and a prayer, Jerry read a short passage from the Bible and followed it by simple but heart-searching comments. Then, after a moving account of his own conversion to God from the depths of sin, he called for testimonies. Three, four, five were on their feet at the same time. All were earnest and overflowing with gratitude to God for saving them and for keeping them amidst temptations.
As the testimonies ended my husband rose and, to my astonishment, requested prayers for his own coldness of heart. He was such a stiff Presbyterian and had been so very conventional and correct in his religion, that I could scarcely believe my ears. As he put his hand over his face to cover his emotion, I saw a tear trickling through his fingers. In spite of my still worldly spirit, he had never appeared nobler or braver in my eyes. I arose and quietly stood by his side. Jerry turned his piercing eyes on us and said in a loud and almost fierce voice that made me jump: "Did y' mean it, both of y'?"
We gave a nod of assent, although my pride rebelled at the thought of being questioned by a thief, even though he was converted. "Then if y' did, come and kneel at this bench," he commanded.
As he spoke he pointed to an old, worm-eaten and none-too-clean bench. We knelt, and in a few moments there were kneeling about us "river-rats," drunkards, gamblers and abandoned women of the streets. We had gone there to see Jerry, "the Curiosity of the Fourth Ward." Now we surely were successful competitors for that title that night, attired as we were for an evening of pleasure.
There was a long line kneeling, and Jerry started at one end. "Pray, brother," he said. "Yes, y' must. I can pray till the breath leaves my body, but that won't save ye; ye must pray yirsilves."
Many of the petitions were suggested by Jerry. The majority were, "God be merciful to me, a sinner."
At last Jerry came to us. He placed a hand on each of our shoulders. I looked up. A tear was zig-zagging down the cheek of this man we thought so rough. It fell between us. It was a holy tear of compassion, shed by a man who yearned to have others accept his Savior. It spoke more loudly to me than any words could have done.
He asked my husband to pray. I had always been proud of my husband's eloquence at social functions when he was called on to speak. I was sure that his prayer would be strikingly different from the others. But when the words finally came to his lips, they were not the words I had anticipated. They were the words the poor bleary-eyed drunkard at his side had just stammered out: "God be merciful to me, a sinner."
In a more tender tone Jerry said, "Put in 'for Jesus' sake. '“My worldly heart melted at the reverence in Jerry McAuley's voice when he spoke that blessed name. I have always said since that those three words are God's cover of love hiding away all our sins. "That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Phil. 2:10, 1110That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; 11And that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:10‑11).
Suddenly the Spirit bore witness with our spirits that we were acceptable to God through the cleansing power of the blood of Jesus. Wanderers we had been, but the seeking Shepherd had found us! We arose from our knees with a holy determination, born of God Himself, henceforth to live for His glory and praise. From that night we have known the joy of being simply followers of the lowly Nazarene.