By the Grace of God
William Grant Burleigh
"By the grace of God I am what I am." (Paul.)
I was born and brought up under the shadow and influence of the leading denomination of my youthful years. My people were zealous toward God, as their fathers had been. Being ignorant of God's righteousness, they went about seeking to establish their own denominational standards of righteousness. I was not interested in the things the party stood for, nor things spiritual. My mind was set on a legal career, and I was educated accordingly. I drifted into a state of indifference concerning religion.
By the grace of God I was led to attend services conducted by some people calling themselves "the church of Christ." All my life I had heard eloquent lectures, orations, discourses, and sermons on moral issues by learned preachers with high-sounding titles, but was not seriously impressed. In this church of Christ in a quiet country place I heard my first gospel sermon, and was deeply impressed. It was a plain, simple discourse by a plain gospel preacher, possessed of no titles nor great learning.
Like Saul of Tarsus, I saw a great light above the brightness of all the denominational lights on earth. Like Saul, I followed "the Light of the world," arose, and was baptized for the remission of sins— the only purpose for which Christian baptism was ever designed. "The Light" led me to proclaim Christ as the Son of the living God and Savior of the lost.
The congregation with which I united was one of the oldest of the Restoration Movement. This was before the unhappy division arose over the digressive tendencies of progressive leaders. My associations threw me with the disciples with the capital "D." I took no part in the arguments and debates that led to a final break in the harmony of the plea for unity. It was some years before I discovered that the progressives had digressed so far from the original ground that there was little difference between them and other denominations. Their likeness to the New Testament church was even less in evidence. This was disturbing, but I clung to the delusive hope that "leaders of light and learning" would discover the errors and lead back to Jerusalem— vain hope.
Ecclesiasticism grew by leaps and bounds. The "clergy," as usual, began to speak with "great swelling words" and issue papal bulls and clerical edicts, and decorate them- selves with the tawdry millinery of Rome. Another denomination was born, through much travail to plague the world and defeat Christ's prayer for the unity and integrity of his body, the church.
The faith and simplicity of the fathers was discarded for the raw theories of near-theologians, and the Father's house invaded by a new swarm of racketeers. After the lurid Memphis fiasco, ironically dubbed "Christian Convention" (God save the mark!), the hope of unity, except that of the cemetery, died. The Octopus, in all his horrid nakedness, stood forth-master of ecclesiastical machinery—his slimy tentacles crushing all opposition and encircling the globe in lust for power and lucre. The newest monstrosity –"our denomination" – was fully launched, decked out in the purple and scarlet colors, gold and precious stones and pearls of the Mother of Harlots, and headed for the river Tiber.
While publishing in the Apostolic Review a series of "Articles on Christ and Religious Racketeers" under the pen name "Timothy Tarwater," I became better acquainted with that large group of churches of Christ which heroically clings to the ancient faith and steadfastly refuses to be lured or driven from the foundation of apostles and prophets, the same group with which I originally united in Christian fellowship.
So again, by the grace of God, my life has been prolonged that I might find my way back from "the far country" to "the Father's house, "and once more enjoy the perfect freedom found only in Christ. A whole generation of former associates in religious work has passed into eternity, and the lengthening shadows admonish me that " the night cometh, when no man can work" here on earth. By the grace of God I hope to survive long enough to make amends for lending aid and comfort to a retrograde movement of the most splendid and divinely inspired program for human redemption ever dreamed of by men or angels. By the grace of God I hope to see Christ's prayer more fully answered and his kingdom more fully entrenched in the heart of humanity before passing over the river to rest under the shade of the tree of life. To this end I am dedicated. –Gospel Advocate, August 30, 1934, 837.
William Grant Burleigh
"By the grace of God I am what I am." (Paul.)
I was born and brought up under the shadow and influence of the leading denomination of my youthful years. My people were zealous toward God, as their fathers had been. Being ignorant of God's righteousness, they went about seeking to establish their own denominational standards of righteousness. I was not interested in the things the party stood for, nor things spiritual. My mind was set on a legal career, and I was educated accordingly. I drifted into a state of indifference concerning religion.
By the grace of God I was led to attend services conducted by some people calling themselves "the church of Christ." All my life I had heard eloquent lectures, orations, discourses, and sermons on moral issues by learned preachers with high-sounding titles, but was not seriously impressed. In this church of Christ in a quiet country place I heard my first gospel sermon, and was deeply impressed. It was a plain, simple discourse by a plain gospel preacher, possessed of no titles nor great learning.
Like Saul of Tarsus, I saw a great light above the brightness of all the denominational lights on earth. Like Saul, I followed "the Light of the world," arose, and was baptized for the remission of sins— the only purpose for which Christian baptism was ever designed. "The Light" led me to proclaim Christ as the Son of the living God and Savior of the lost.
The congregation with which I united was one of the oldest of the Restoration Movement. This was before the unhappy division arose over the digressive tendencies of progressive leaders. My associations threw me with the disciples with the capital "D." I took no part in the arguments and debates that led to a final break in the harmony of the plea for unity. It was some years before I discovered that the progressives had digressed so far from the original ground that there was little difference between them and other denominations. Their likeness to the New Testament church was even less in evidence. This was disturbing, but I clung to the delusive hope that "leaders of light and learning" would discover the errors and lead back to Jerusalem— vain hope.
Ecclesiasticism grew by leaps and bounds. The "clergy," as usual, began to speak with "great swelling words" and issue papal bulls and clerical edicts, and decorate them- selves with the tawdry millinery of Rome. Another denomination was born, through much travail to plague the world and defeat Christ's prayer for the unity and integrity of his body, the church.
The faith and simplicity of the fathers was discarded for the raw theories of near-theologians, and the Father's house invaded by a new swarm of racketeers. After the lurid Memphis fiasco, ironically dubbed "Christian Convention" (God save the mark!), the hope of unity, except that of the cemetery, died. The Octopus, in all his horrid nakedness, stood forth-master of ecclesiastical machinery—his slimy tentacles crushing all opposition and encircling the globe in lust for power and lucre. The newest monstrosity –"our denomination" – was fully launched, decked out in the purple and scarlet colors, gold and precious stones and pearls of the Mother of Harlots, and headed for the river Tiber.
While publishing in the Apostolic Review a series of "Articles on Christ and Religious Racketeers" under the pen name "Timothy Tarwater," I became better acquainted with that large group of churches of Christ which heroically clings to the ancient faith and steadfastly refuses to be lured or driven from the foundation of apostles and prophets, the same group with which I originally united in Christian fellowship.
So again, by the grace of God, my life has been prolonged that I might find my way back from "the far country" to "the Father's house, "and once more enjoy the perfect freedom found only in Christ. A whole generation of former associates in religious work has passed into eternity, and the lengthening shadows admonish me that " the night cometh, when no man can work" here on earth. By the grace of God I hope to survive long enough to make amends for lending aid and comfort to a retrograde movement of the most splendid and divinely inspired program for human redemption ever dreamed of by men or angels. By the grace of God I hope to see Christ's prayer more fully answered and his kingdom more fully entrenched in the heart of humanity before passing over the river to rest under the shade of the tree of life. To this end I am dedicated. –Gospel Advocate, August 30, 1934, 837.
By the Grace of God
William Grant Burleigh
"By the grace of God I am what I am." (Paul.)
I was born and brought up under the shadow and influence of the leading denomination of my youthful years. My people were zealous toward God, as their fathers had been. Being ignorant of God's righteousness, they went about seeking to establish their own denominational standards of righteousness. I was not interested in the things the party stood for, nor things spiritual. My mind was set on a legal career, and I was educated accordingly. I drifted into a state of indifference concerning religion.
By the grace of God I was led to attend services conducted by some people calling themselves "the church of Christ." All my life I had heard eloquent lectures, orations, discourses, and sermons on moral issues by learned preachers with high-sounding titles, but was not seriously impressed. In this church of Christ in a quiet country place I heard my first gospel sermon, and was deeply impressed. It was a plain, simple discourse by a plain gospel preacher, possessed of no titles nor great learning.
Like Saul of Tarsus, I saw a great light above the brightness of all the denominational lights on earth. Like Saul, I followed "the Light of the world," arose, and was baptized for the remission of sins— the only purpose for which Christian baptism was ever designed. "The Light" led me to proclaim Christ as the Son of the living God and Savior of the lost.
The congregation with which I united was one of the oldest of the Restoration Movement. This was before the unhappy division arose over the digressive tendencies of progressive leaders. My associations threw me with the disciples with the capital "D." I took no part in the arguments and debates that led to a final break in the harmony of the plea for unity. It was some years before I discovered that the progressives had digressed so far from the original ground that there was little difference between them and other denominations. Their likeness to the New Testament church was even less in evidence. This was disturbing, but I clung to the delusive hope that "leaders of light and learning" would discover the errors and lead back to Jerusalem— vain hope.
Ecclesiasticism grew by leaps and bounds. The "clergy," as usual, began to speak with "great swelling words" and issue papal bulls and clerical edicts, and decorate them- selves with the tawdry millinery of Rome. Another denomination was born, through much travail to plague the world and defeat Christ's prayer for the unity and integrity of his body, the church.
The faith and simplicity of the fathers was discarded for the raw theories of near-theologians, and the Father's house invaded by a new swarm of racketeers. After the lurid Memphis fiasco, ironically dubbed "Christian Convention" (God save the mark!), the hope of unity, except that of the cemetery, died. The Octopus, in all his horrid nakedness, stood forth-master of ecclesiastical machinery—his slimy tentacles crushing all opposition and encircling the globe in lust for power and lucre. The newest monstrosity –"our denomination" – was fully launched, decked out in the purple and scarlet colors, gold and precious stones and pearls of the Mother of Harlots, and headed for the river Tiber.
While publishing in the Apostolic Review a series of "Articles on Christ and Religious Racketeers" under the pen name "Timothy Tarwater," I became better acquainted with that large group of churches of Christ which heroically clings to the ancient faith and steadfastly refuses to be lured or driven from the foundation of apostles and prophets, the same group with which I originally united in Christian fellowship.
So again, by the grace of God, my life has been prolonged that I might find my way back from "the far country" to "the Father's house, "and once more enjoy the perfect freedom found only in Christ. A whole generation of former associates in religious work has passed into eternity, and the lengthening shadows admonish me that " the night cometh, when no man can work" here on earth. By the grace of God I hope to survive long enough to make amends for lending aid and comfort to a retrograde movement of the most splendid and divinely inspired program for human redemption ever dreamed of by men or angels. By the grace of God I hope to see Christ's prayer more fully answered and his kingdom more fully entrenched in the heart of humanity before passing over the river to rest under the shade of the tree of life. To this end I am dedicated. –Gospel Advocate, August 30, 1934, 837.
William Grant Burleigh
"By the grace of God I am what I am." (Paul.)
I was born and brought up under the shadow and influence of the leading denomination of my youthful years. My people were zealous toward God, as their fathers had been. Being ignorant of God's righteousness, they went about seeking to establish their own denominational standards of righteousness. I was not interested in the things the party stood for, nor things spiritual. My mind was set on a legal career, and I was educated accordingly. I drifted into a state of indifference concerning religion.
By the grace of God I was led to attend services conducted by some people calling themselves "the church of Christ." All my life I had heard eloquent lectures, orations, discourses, and sermons on moral issues by learned preachers with high-sounding titles, but was not seriously impressed. In this church of Christ in a quiet country place I heard my first gospel sermon, and was deeply impressed. It was a plain, simple discourse by a plain gospel preacher, possessed of no titles nor great learning.
Like Saul of Tarsus, I saw a great light above the brightness of all the denominational lights on earth. Like Saul, I followed "the Light of the world," arose, and was baptized for the remission of sins— the only purpose for which Christian baptism was ever designed. "The Light" led me to proclaim Christ as the Son of the living God and Savior of the lost.
The congregation with which I united was one of the oldest of the Restoration Movement. This was before the unhappy division arose over the digressive tendencies of progressive leaders. My associations threw me with the disciples with the capital "D." I took no part in the arguments and debates that led to a final break in the harmony of the plea for unity. It was some years before I discovered that the progressives had digressed so far from the original ground that there was little difference between them and other denominations. Their likeness to the New Testament church was even less in evidence. This was disturbing, but I clung to the delusive hope that "leaders of light and learning" would discover the errors and lead back to Jerusalem— vain hope.
Ecclesiasticism grew by leaps and bounds. The "clergy," as usual, began to speak with "great swelling words" and issue papal bulls and clerical edicts, and decorate them- selves with the tawdry millinery of Rome. Another denomination was born, through much travail to plague the world and defeat Christ's prayer for the unity and integrity of his body, the church.
The faith and simplicity of the fathers was discarded for the raw theories of near-theologians, and the Father's house invaded by a new swarm of racketeers. After the lurid Memphis fiasco, ironically dubbed "Christian Convention" (God save the mark!), the hope of unity, except that of the cemetery, died. The Octopus, in all his horrid nakedness, stood forth-master of ecclesiastical machinery—his slimy tentacles crushing all opposition and encircling the globe in lust for power and lucre. The newest monstrosity –"our denomination" – was fully launched, decked out in the purple and scarlet colors, gold and precious stones and pearls of the Mother of Harlots, and headed for the river Tiber.
While publishing in the Apostolic Review a series of "Articles on Christ and Religious Racketeers" under the pen name "Timothy Tarwater," I became better acquainted with that large group of churches of Christ which heroically clings to the ancient faith and steadfastly refuses to be lured or driven from the foundation of apostles and prophets, the same group with which I originally united in Christian fellowship.
So again, by the grace of God, my life has been prolonged that I might find my way back from "the far country" to "the Father's house, "and once more enjoy the perfect freedom found only in Christ. A whole generation of former associates in religious work has passed into eternity, and the lengthening shadows admonish me that " the night cometh, when no man can work" here on earth. By the grace of God I hope to survive long enough to make amends for lending aid and comfort to a retrograde movement of the most splendid and divinely inspired program for human redemption ever dreamed of by men or angels. By the grace of God I hope to see Christ's prayer more fully answered and his kingdom more fully entrenched in the heart of humanity before passing over the river to rest under the shade of the tree of life. To this end I am dedicated. –Gospel Advocate, August 30, 1934, 837.
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