TOMORROW!
Tomorrow my loved ones would be with me!
EFORE DAWN I SLEPT A LITTLE, but there was too much excitement in the air, too many people coming and going, too many groups gathering to stand outside the hospital fence, as the news spread. And into my room came, with kindly greetings and proffered assistance, the mayor and his wife, the police chief, the fire chief, ministers, representatives of the Chamber of Commerce with flowers, ladies with clothing and articles, the local newspaper men who first sent the news over the wires,
> nc anding a protective guard outside my window at all times was a Douglas police officer. Others of the force were examining all cars crossing the Mexican border. It was feared, however, that the kidnapers’ would, with twenty hours’ start, have made their getaway
Desei } trackers came frequently to the foot of my bed, asked questions, then strode out again to renew their obser vations
There were the men who found my footprints fifteen miles out from Agua Prieta. Carrying one of my shoes, they fitted it to the tracks and drew a map of the territory covered. They dis covered many shacks throughout the sparsely inhabited country. In their search they came across huts which they had not known existed.
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These were the men—backed by years of experience and splendid reputation along the border country—who later journeyed to Los Angeles and gave testimony as to their findings, In those hours at Douglas I read the look that beclouded their eyes, the resentment they felt concerning the floundering activities of the “tenderfoot” officers from Los Angeles who arrived
_debonairly spick-and-span the next morning— their resentment against the all-too-apparent prejudices and smart questionings of the newcomers concerning my statements—statements which the desert men knew to be true.
Airplanes landing, automobiles screeching to a stop before the hospital door, footsteps marching up the steps, through the corridors, into my room—all these announced the arrival of a flock of newspapermen from Los Angeles, who bristled with questions:
“How are you?” “Where have you been “You have lost a lot of weight, haven't you?”
“I hear your captors cut off some of your hair. May I see the place?’
“I say! Your wrists are red! Is that where they had you tied?”
Weak though I was, I tried to answer all the questions, even to the minutest detail. Squad by squad they came in to hear my account; and nothing would do but I must tell it over again, and again. The entire morning, as well as most of the preceding day and night, despite the protests of the nurses, was one long nightmare of reporters!
At length the nurses succeeded in getting every one out of the room, and bade me rest, saying:
"Your family will be here soon, now.” * “Welcomed home by crowds estimated at more than fifty thousand persons, Aimee Semple McPherson, ‘dead’ to her congregation and to the world for more than a month, last night was safe in Angelus Temple....”
Thus did a leading Los Angeles newspaper “cover” the homecoming. The reporter went on to say:
“The return of the pastor of the Foursquare Gospel was one of the largest demonstrations ever enacted in Los Angeles. Her welcome at the... station, where thousands... greeted her with prayer and song, was one of wild joy and enthusiasm.
“After addressing the crowds that stormed her home, Mrs. McPherson was on the verge of collapse. Weakly she sank back from the balcony from which she greeted her congregation, and two policemen carried her into the house....
“A few moments later Mrs. McPherson recovered her composure and entered the Temple, while the worshippers rocked the edifice with a thundering ovation.
“Beneath the scene of celebration, however, there was a note of sadness in the welcome, The white-robed followers of the Foursquare Gospel wept when they saw their leader again. They cheered and sang, but it was through a mist of tears,
“And it was a changed ‘Sister’ they greeted. First they noticed the drawn lines in her face. Her cheeks, too, were sunken and the brightness of her eyes was dimmed. The suffering she had undergone showed only too plainly despite the happy smiles that wreathed her face.
“And when she spoke her first words of greeting, the fatigue was more evident. It was not the same ringing voice they knew so well. It was a voice that trembled, a weak voice that in spite of itself bespoke tortures
“The welcome at the train completely overwhelmed the evangelist and when she finally arrived at her home under heavy police escort, she was on the verge of collapse. Five thousand worshippers were awaiting her in the Temple, singing hymns of praise while they waited for their leader to appear again on the rostrum.
“Outside the McPherson home another five thousand persons jammed the streets and joined in the refrains that rolled from the open church doors....” * When others at the depot saw merely the sea of faces upturned and what appeared to be acres of white uniforms, I caught the spirit of loving friends, thousands of whom had been converted in our meetings, throngs with whom I had prayed in hours of sickness and distress; the Sunday School children; the members, to most of whom I had administered the ordinance of baptism and communion; the branch churches; the Silver Band, playing joyously.
With brimming eyes I made my way down to the Temple altars and fell upon my knees behind the pulpit where a thousand times I had stood and preached the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Oh, the peace, the comfort, the rest ever to be found in the sanctuary of the Most High! How often was I to find peace and comfort in that same sanctuary during the days of coming storm; days when the devil would strike his second blow and hurl across our sunny seas the darksome cloud of his evil fury; days when he would lash the waves of public opinion into a confused tempest of foam-flecked mad billows, with his whip of innuendo, diabolic plot and intrigue.
*
Terrible as was my experience, and the being swept away from home, children, church, school, work and all that life held dear, this was not comparable to the torrent that was so loosed on our heads after my return,
Surely, had we been a sleepy church, open but once during the week and for a quiet service or two on Sundays, this cloudburst would never have descended upon us. Or, had we been of the popular church type, dancing, smoking, card playing, worldlings, the ire of Satan would not have been directed usward,
A buffalo may roam the forest all unhindered and unmolested for years when he is well and hearty. But let him be wounded and sink to his knees a moment and every cowardly dog who would at other times sulk in the shadows will fasten its nasty teeth upon it to rend and tear, leaping back to cover when its victim leaps to his feet and the bleeding wound is staunched.
Every one who wished a bit of publicity, and who would never have gotten their names in the paper, let alone being headlined on the front page, took advantage of my unhappy plight to make hay while the sun shone. All any one had to do to have his name and business published the world over, was to say he had seen me here, there or anywhere, during the time of my captivity.
The newspaper writers had been sent out for a good story; and my unfortunate experience was too good and too sensational, from their point of view, to let die immediately. A great newspaper seller; it must be kept “alive.”
The first story having been read and digested and repeated for several days, it was desirable to add to it a little new spice and thrill. Suggestions, inferences, charges were hurled right and left and fell, insistently, like pattering rain upon a tin roof. The fact that practically each one was disproved the next morning seemed to make no difference.
Though unbelievable and wildly inconsistent, so persistent were these stories—any kind of story, so long as it fanned public interest by casting the light of aspersion upon my veracity— that some people, who did not know me or know my life, could not be blamed for believing this absurd, paper-selling propaganda.
Added to the agony of seeing my name blazoned forth in the daily press in such a manner, was the poignant anxiety as to what effect the persecution would have upon others. Yet the thousands of members and friends who thronged the Temple stood now more demonstratively loyal than ever before. Out of the midst of this experience a new song was born and, with heads thrown back and shoulders straight the congregations would make the Temple ring with its inspiting melody and challenging words:
“Stand, Don't Waver; Stand, Don't Waver; Stand, Don’t Waver—Stand! Stand on the Word of God
T have often been asked how, while this great travail was upon me, T was able to withstand it physically or mentally. Other women, other men, people told me, would have gone to pieces. Yet the fact remains that, through it all, I performed all pastoral duties just as hitherto. Even during the court proceedings, while sitting under such enormous stress, I was permitted by the grace of God to carty on the services every night, preach to vast congregations, visit and pray for the sick, baptize those converted, minister to the various children’s and adult Bible schools, and do all those things connected with the administration of a large church.
Finally, the malicious tongues of scandal became so blatant and the cleft of opinion reached such a crescendo that my patience was tried beyond all endurance.
Over the radio and through the press I called for every one who had been muttering around in the dark to come out and say what they had to say in the light of day.
The names of those who had volunteered to the newspapers wild and absurd tales, were listed and subpoenaed; this much to the discomfiture of a number who found it one thing to make wild statements and quite another to repeat and prove them under oath!
But though the prosecution was able to bring witness after witness to the stand, and though practically every one who had so much to say was examined, the whole thing was ultimately thrown out by the prosecutor himself without even so much as reaching the jury! He who had instigated the investigation, finally upon the confession of his “star witness” that she had testified falsely, asked for a dismissal of the so-called “case.”
Suddenly, as it had begun, it was all over.
On the tenth day of January, 1927, the telephone in the parsonage rang and, lifting the receiver from the hook, I heard a voice coming over the wire announcing that the “case” had collapsed—fallen in upon itself like the outworn walls of a flimsy building, unable longer to stand—and that all accusations had been voluntarily dismissed.
Outside the parsonage a few moments later, “newsies” swarmed like ants, yelling:
“Hey! Aimee wins! Case blows up! Get your paper; read all about it—three cents.”
They shouted just as eagerly this new headline as they had those detrimental ones which were now passé. They shouted, not because I was exonerated, but because it was another “good seller.” The so-called * day,
But the glorious revival in Angelus Temple and throughout Foursquaredom still goes on!
Immediately after the dismissal, I took a national tour; and during three months I spoke twice a day in a different city every three days. The purpose; to see face to face and to thank personally for their loyalty those thousands of friends across the Rockies who had made the building of Angelus Temple possible, and to whom I had preached during the years of transcontinental travels. Their unwavering loyalty, abiding faith, and their lovely letters and telegrams of encouragement helped greatly to soften the blows of those days of persecution.
has passed into the annals of yester-
The tour began in Denver, the “Mile-high” city, whose arms of hospitality have always been open to us as have few other places in the world. How good it was to stand again in the great municipal auditorium with its more than twelve thousand persons packed in and crowds standing in the streets. How good it was to hear again the ringing songs of the gospel and see them surging down to the altar to kneel at the foot of the cross in full surrender to Christ.
Kansas City, Wichita, Topeka, Shenandoah, Des Moines, Indianapolis, Chicago, Dayton, Syracuse, Omaha, Rochester, Baltimore, Washington, New York, Jacksonville and Dallas— in each we had the joyous privilege of preaching the good news of Him Who saves and keeps and triumphs gloriously by His unconquerable might.
As for the Temple members and friends they were soundly entrenched in the Word of God and rejoicing over the discomfiture of the enemy and the victory of the truth. Our membership had doubled, our altars were full, our baptistry was thronged, our Sunday School was averaging three thousand in attendance, and several meetings were held every day in the week. Our radio Church of the Air membership had trebled. The circulation of our periodicals had grown.
With shining eyes and radiant faces the Temple workers were leading scores to the feet of Jesus.
The number of students called of God to train for the ministry increased, and more and more missionaries unfurled their
9 sails for lands afar, to carry the gospel under the Foursquare banner to those in heathen darkness and despair
As for me, “Weeping may endure for a night; but joy cometh in the morning.” The harvest of human souls stretched out before me as never before, and I knew that I must be about my Father's business.”