A Church Body That Chose to Die

On June 28, 1804, at Cane Ridge in Bourbon County, Kentucky, Barton W. Stone and five other Presbyterian ministers signed one of the strangest documents in church history. They called it the Last Will and Testament of the Springfield Presbytery. Their own organization was the one dying. They wrote, “We will, that this body die, be dissolved, and sink into union with the Body of Christ at large.” They gave up the title “Reverend” and willed that people take the Bible as the only sure guide to heaven. The witnesses said it “died a voluntary and happy death.” Sometimes the most faithful thing you can do is let your own name fade so Christ’s body can be one.

Stone and Smith Shook Hands

On Saturday, January 1, 1832, two groups of believers met at the Hill Street church in Lexington, Kentucky: the Christians who followed Barton W. Stone and the reformers associated with Alexander Campbell. “Raccoon” John Smith spoke first. He said, “Let us, then, my brethren, be no longer Campbellites, or Stoneites, New Lights or Old Lights,” but come “to the Bible, and to the Bible alone.” He reminded them there may be ten thousand opinions but only one faith, so Christians must be one in faith, not in opinion. Stone answered that he had no objection, and said, “I am willing to give him, now and here, my hand.” Their handshake became famous. Unity often starts with one hand reaching out.

An Eleven-Year-Old Told Lincoln to Grow a Beard

In October 1860, an eleven-year-old girl named Grace Bedell in Westfield, New York saw a picture of Abraham Lincoln and wrote him a letter. She told him his face was so thin that if he let his whiskers grow, he would look a great deal better, and she would try to get her brothers to vote for him. Four days later, Lincoln wrote back. He was gracious, though he wondered if people might call it silly to start a beard now. Yet when he stopped in Westfield in February 1861 on the way to his inauguration, he wore a full beard and met his young correspondent. Never think your voice is too small to matter.

Jackie Robinson Didn’t Fight Back

Branch Rickey of the Brooklyn Dodgers didn’t just want Jackie Robinson for his talent. He wanted him for his character. Rickey knew the man who broke baseball’s color line would face mental and physical abuse, and he needed someone strong enough to take it without fighting back. On April 15, 1947, Robinson played first base for Brooklyn in his major league debut. He faced teammates and crowds who didn’t want him there, plus threats against himself and his family. He handled it with honor and grace. At the end of that first season, he was named Rookie of the Year. Holding back when you could swing isn’t weakness. It takes more strength than most people will ever know.

Twelve Seconds at Kitty Hawk

Everybody was watching Samuel Langley. He had backing from the Smithsonian and the War Department, and the press followed his every move. Meanwhile two bicycle makers from Ohio, Wilbur and Orville Wright, worked in relative obscurity. They made more than a thousand glides off Big Kill Devil Hill, learning to actually fly before they ever added an engine. When they couldn’t find a light enough engine, they built their own. On December 17, 1903, Orville kept their machine in the air for about 120 feet. It doesn’t sound like much. Later that day Wilbur flew 852 feet in 59 seconds. Then they sent their dad a matter-of-fact telegram. Quiet, patient faithfulness in small things often goes further than all the attention in the world.