Missing Moody

I’ve decided that the blog this week will be a memorial to people that have greatly influenced me—specifically to those who’ve already gone home. This is Day 3. . .

Dwight L. Moody (1837-1899). When I’m asked the question about a historical person I’d love to meet, D. L. Moody is at or near the top of my list. I would have loved to watch him as he broke down social, racial, and spiritual barriers on the streets of Chicago. With a desire to reach the children of the city who had little or no education or money and tough family situations, he created a Sunday school class that met in an old saloon and became the “Illinois Street Church.”

Moody never went to school. At 10, he went to work to support his family. At 17, he ventured to Boston where his life changed while working in a shoe store. He later became a janitor at the YMCA—serving wherever needed. He was simple. A master storyteller, he was able to put the cookies on the lowest shelf so that everyone could understand and connect the dots. His sincere passion for people trumped whatever he lacked in education and elegance. He, like Rich and Brennan, was very real and tangible. He once said, “A good example is far better than a good precept.” That is the way that he lived. . . even while speaking to over 100,000,000 people (yes, that’s one hundred million) throughout his life. That challenges me. Not the number of people. The living out my faith in all seasons.

Just like Rich Mullins and Brennan Manning, I have far too many favorite quotes to list them here. There is one, though, that has shaken me every time I recall it, especially since I’ve become a dad:

“There was a time when I used to think more of the love of Jesus Christ than of God the Father. I used to think of God as a stern judge on the throne, from whose wrath Jesus Christ saved me.  It seems to me now I could not have a falser idea of God than that.  Since I have become a father I have made this discovery: that it takes more love and self-sacrifice for the father to give up the son than it does for the son to die.”

I’m thankful for men like Moody. He changed people by telling stories that illustrated The Story. 

And even though we’ve never met, he changed me.