The Gospel by Wireless/Introduction
Introduction.
When I came to London, more than twenty years ago, the hoardings were covered with the notice; "When you see it in the Sun it is so," all of which only made way for the retort: "And when you see it in the ',' it isn't.". The late Sir Wilfred Lawson used to say that it only needed The Times and the House of Lords to be against a measure of reform to prove that the reform was overdue and wanted; but be these things what they may, it is very significant that when you find such great journals as The Times and The Daily Telegraph devoting space to the subject of "wireless sermons," it may be taken from that alone that the matter has in it something of national importance. That there are difficulties ahead no one will deny. The Postmaster General will tell you that, and the wireless companies will tell you the same thing; but if difficulties there are, they are there to be overcome. I am not concerned with the secular side of things. The point to which I would draw the attention of the whole Church of the living God is this, that I have preached the Gospel by wireless to the largest and most unique congregation ever man had. Secular concerts, and good concerts at that, are the order of the day by wireless: is preaching the Gospel to be barred in this, a Protestant country? As far as "wireless" is concerned, is the Hague Concert to be the feature of the Sabbath day, and no Divine teaching allowed? It seems to me that no time should be lost. The Church should strike out now and at once. If not, a chance will be allowed to pass by, and pass never to return.
There must be no squabbling in the Church over this. The Church must be united, and remain united. It will never come about that every Church in the land will be allowed to have a transmitting centre. It simply could not be done. Speaking for myself, it does not matter a brass farthing to me whether I preach a sermon by wireless again or not—that is the merest detail. All my aim is that one sermon, at least, should go out each Sunday by wireless; advertised, wave-length, etc., given; and this one sermon be as much a feature of the Sabbath as the Hague Concert is to-day—or as any other concert may be to-morrow.
I applied for a licence for the Church in McDermott Road. It has been refused; and to be quite candid and quite fair, I think that the Postmaster General is quite right. If we had been granted a licence, other Churches could very well make the same claim, and rightly so. With that, and as far as speaking was concerned, it would only be the Tower of Babel over again.
Sunday, the 30th of July, 1922, marks the first step in what could very easily be one of the greatest moves of Gospel propagation.
The church in McDermott Road was fitted with a fully-equipped receiving apparatus, and the people heard everything fairly well. I put it "fairly well" advisedly; it was the very first time that our people had "listened in," and it was my first attempt at such speaking. Taking both of these things into consideration, I might well add that the experiment was a most gigantic success.
I have simply been deluged with letters from all over the land. One man writes from Watford, Herts: "Last night I happened, quite by chance, to be 'tuning in' on my one-valve wireless set, when I was amazed to hear the strains of 'O God, our help in ages past,' and later I received your address with remarkable clearness." Another writes from Godalming. Surrey: "I shall be glad to know if there will be another broadcast sermon next Sunday.—Yours in gratitude and congratulations." Berkswell, near Coventry: "You will be interested to learn that your sermon reached here quite clearly." Sevenoaks: "The sermon was received by me absolutely perfect on a three-valve set." Eltham: "The address given in such a manner enabled me to concentrate on it much better than in a building."
The above are letters. This came by wireless just at the close of the first address, and came from a well-known summer resort on the East Coast: "Message received perfectly by great crowd on the sea front. Will take up a collection if it is desired." (I was not out for collections then.) In St Albans a man was sitting so quietly "listening in" that his wife was somewhat concerned at the unusual quietness, and asked him: "What is the matter with you, that you are so quiet?" and he, holding up his hand for silence, said: "I am listening to a sermon."
"Good for you," she replied. "I am glad to think that you are listening to something that will be for your good." I merely mention these to show the scope of the work, and to show and to prove that wireless for extending the Kingdom is there—if we can but use it.
". . . The harvest is for another" (John iii. 16) came to me—I never chose it—and as far as the text is concerned it has no equal. In the brief period of eight minutes placed at my disposal, I endeavoured to give to all my unseen hearers a message from what I believe to be the greatest text in the Bible. The peculiar conditions of transmitting this message rendered my task somewhat difficult, and no doubt hindered me from saying all that I would have wished to have said, but I trust that these few words, coming to such a widespread audience with all the attraction of novelty in presentation, may be as seed sown, and that a harvest may not be denied.
All the music given was from records. Some people write and tell me how they enjoyed the singing of the choir: they ask if it was the choir in McDermott Road. It was not. "The Church's one Foundation" was the record of the City Temple Quartette. I am asked every day how I felt. I cannot tell. It was weird. We sometimes pray in a hurry: it goes from the bow at a second's notice. So did I pray then. The prayer was answered, the seed was sown; and as I raced all the way back to McDermott Road in my six-cylinder Chandler, I remembered one other text, at least, just then: "My Word shall not return to Me void": and may it be so for His Name's sake.
Let me say here what I have said elsewhere in these notes: wireless is just in its infancy. It can be used now, and used with good effect. Let us rise to it, and use it.
"Some men are born to greatness, other men achieve greatness; another lot get it in the back of the neck whether they like it or not." I am not so sure that this is quite correct—I mean, I am doubtful if this is just the usual way of putting it. I am not suggesting that I am in any one of these lots; but some people are heaping honours upon my head that I can lay no manner of claim to. People write to me: "The Very Rev.," others "Dear Clerk," a third lot, "The Rev. Dr. Boon, D.D." I am not a D.D.—I think it was Gipsy Smith who said that his divinity did not require any doctoring. Amen, Gipsy. I am no Clerk in Holy Orders. I am not a "very" anything. True, I have been called a fool, and the man who said that would never object if he was forced to put the "very" in front. Why! I am not even an ordained minister. I am only a humdrum medical practitioner in a common or garden South London practice. Over in America, and during the hearing of a certain lawsuit, an old negro was seen to be walking about the court in a very disconsolate fashion, when a man went up to him and asked: "Who are you in this case? Are you the defendant?" The negro turned upon his heel and replied "No, massa, I haven't done nothing to deserve no names like that; and I have engaged a lawyer to do all the defencing needed here. I am the man what stole the chickens."
I am not the man what stole the chickens, and I have engaged no one to speak on my behalf. As a matter of fact I have done nothing. I only happen to be the first man to preach a sermon by wireless; and that is not what I had in my mind when it was agreed that I should speak. I wanted to prove that it could be done. I have proved it. Follow on and read 1 Kings xviii.
Our service for God has been barren and dry,
And barren it still shall remain.
Until we are blest with the fire from on high
And sound of abundance of rain.
There's sound of abundance of rain,
There's sound of abundance of rain;
To God we draw near, and by faith we can hear
The sound of abundance of rain.
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