The doctors and nurses worked tirelessly on the wounded soldiers, and the most seriously wounded were loaded onto a steamer for a trip up the Tennessee River to Cairo, Illinois, and a train back to Chicago. D.L. went along on the steamer, deeply concerned for the spiritual well-being of the wounded soldiers, a number of whom he knew would die before they ever made it back to Chicago.
Four hundred fifty severely wounded soldiers were on the steamer. D.L. and his group of helpers had determined to talk to each man and share the gospel message with them all. As he made his way among the soldiers, D.L. came upon one young man who was in shock and dying from loss of blood. D.L. gave the unconscious man brandy and water and hoped that he would regain awareness.
The wounded soldier next to him told D.L. that the man’s name was William, and that the two of them were buddies from the same town and had volunteered together to fight in the war. According to his friend, William was the only son of a widow.
“William, William,” D.L. called to the young man as he administered more brandy and water.
When the young man did regain consciousness, D.L. asked him whether he knew where he was.
“Yes,” William mumbled, “I’m on my way home to my mother.”
“The doctor says you will not live. Have you any message to send to your mother?” D.L. asked.
“Tell her that I died trusting in Jesus Christ.”
“Is there anything else?” D.L. pressed.
“Yes. Tell my mother and sister to be sure to meet me in heaven.”
“I will, I will,” D.L. said as William lapsed back into unconsciousness. While D.L. felt grief for the young man, he also rejoiced that William had died trusting in Jesus Christ. When he arrived back in Chicago, D.L. made sure to relay William’s last words to his mother and sister in a letter to them.
With the horrific casualty count at the Battle of Shiloh, many in the North hoped that the two sides would be drawn to the peace table, but it was not to be. The North and the South fought on, and D.L. worked tirelessly to alleviate suffering and proclaim the gospel wherever he could. He continued to shuttle back and forth between the battlefields and Chicago, bringing messages of cheer and hope to the soldiers along with practical items such as bandages and dried foods.
Many of the twelve thousand Confederate soldiers captured at Fort Donelson were sent to Camp Douglas, transforming part of the place into a prisoner-of-war camp. D.L. sought to minister to these soldiers. As he wrote in a letter, “These poor men need the means of grace fully as much as any Union soldier. But to gain access to them is a matter of extreme difficulty.” But when D.L. had set his mind to do something, he found a way to do it, and before long he was allowed access to hold services among the Confederate prisoners of war.
As the war dragged on, D.L. and Emma decided to get married in a quiet family wedding ceremony that took place on Thursday, August 28, 1862. D.L. was twenty-five years old, and Emma was nineteen. After a short honeymoon the couple moved into a small house on Chicago’s north side, not too far from North Market Hall.
The next two months were filled with Sunday school work and helping to organize the Northwestern Sanitary Fair in Chicago. The fair was a big event that raised $86,000. President Lincoln had donated his own copy of the Emancipation Proclamation, an announcement that proclaimed freedom for millions of slaves. The document was auctioned off for $10,000. The Sanitary Commission used the money raised at the fair to provide personnel and equipment for transporting wounded soldiers from the battlefield, caring for them in the hospital, or moving them to the rear.
While D.L. was keeping busy ministering to the spiritual needs of soldiers fighting in the Civil War, the spiritual needs of the poorest residents of Chicago were never far from his mind.
Chapter 8
Crazy Moody
One bitter cold Chicago morning, when the sun had barely risen, D.L. heard a knock at the front door.
“Who’s there?” D.L. asked.
The man gave his name, which D.L. did not recognize. “What do you want?” he asked further.
“I want to become a Christian,” came the reply.
With that, D.L. swung the front door open and invited the man inside.
As the man stood in the hallway, D.L. recognized him—it was a man who had threatened him several months before. On that occasion D.L. had been walking home when he saw the man leaning against a lamppost. He had felt compelled to speak to him and, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder, had asked, “Are you a Christian?”
The man had immediately flown into a rage at the question. He stood up straight and spun around, his fists drawn into tight balls.
“I’m very sorry if I have offended you,” D.L. had said.
“Mind your own business!” the man barked back.
“But that is my business,” D.L. replied as he turned and left.
Now here was that same man standing in his hallway.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” the man said, “but from that time you approached me, I have had no peace. Your words have haunted and troubled me. Last night I could not sleep at all. I knew that I must find you and ask you to pray with me.”
D.L. led the man in a prayer of conversion. The next Sunday the man was at the North Market Hall Mission Sunday School to learn all he could about his new faith.
Such events always illustrated to D.L. the importance of speaking to people, wherever he found them, about their relationship with Jesus Christ. Even if the initial encounter appeared not to go well, as with this man, one never knew the impact those words could have, even months later.
This man was just one more of many adults who were now regularly attending D.L.’s Sunday school. Despite the Civil War, the Sunday school continued to grow. There was just one problem. Not long after Emma and D.L. were married, a fire partially damaged the North Market Hall, and D.L. had to find a new home for the Sunday school.
Not far from the hall, at the corner of Illinois and Wells Streets, a large lot of land was up for sale. D.L. thought it would be a perfect location for a new facility to house his Sunday school. He discussed the possibility with Isaac Burch and John Farwell, who helped him run the Sunday school, and both men agreed that it would be a perfect location. The land and erection of a building would cost about $20,000, and D.L. set to work raising the money. Before long he had raised the required amount, and in early 1863 the lot was purchased and plans were drawn up for a 1,500-seat auditorium with classrooms, an office, and a library. When the plans were complete, building began.
Meanwhile, D.L. kept busy working with the YMCA and the Christian Commission. Throughout 1863 he made more visits south to speak to and encourage the Union troops. The Civil War ground on. A number of Union victories had taken place along with some disastrous defeats, among them the Battle of Fredericksberg, where Union troops had suffered heavy losses and been soundly defeated by General Robert E. Lee’s army. Nonetheless, D.L. encouraged the troops in their fight and urged them to give their lives to Christ now, lest they die in battle before ever doing so.
Back in Chicago D.L. found that he enjoyed married life. Emma fed him well. In fact, D.L. had become rather plump from her cooking. Emma had also taken over the job of handling most of D.L.’s correspondence, a job he had found tiresome. Emma was always encouraging him in his ministry. D.L. knew that if any difficult decisions needed to be made, he could always talk them over with his wife, who seemed to him to have wisdom beyond her years.
As 1863 passed, the new building at the corner of Wells and Illinois Streets took shape. D.L. looked forward to its completion as he contemplated all the other ministries that could be run at the new facility. By Christmas the new building was almost complete, and on February 24, 1864, it opened.
It was a wonderful day for D.L. as he stood outside in the cold and viewed the new brick building. The building was very plain from the outside, and a passerby might not have even realized that it had been built for Christian purposes had it not been for the sign next to the front entrance that read, “Ever Welcome to This House of God Are Strangers and The Poor.” And beneath the sign was a notice that said, “The Seats Are Free.” The plainness of the building was just as D.L. wanted. He did not want anything that might look too much like a church and make people who were not used to going to church feel uncomfortable, or worse, scare them away altogether.
Inside the large building the chairs were arranged in circles for Sunday school classes, with the teachers’ chairs each marked with a silk flag that bore the number of the class. On a banner behind the platform at the front were the words “God Is Love.” Two Bible classrooms, one for men and the other for women, were at the back beside the main entrance. These rooms were partitioned off with wood and glass screens that could be pushed back to enlarge the size of the main hall. Above the main floor of the hall were two balconies, one on either side of the building. Upstairs was an office for D.L.
As the children and adults streamed into the new building the first Sunday, D.L. breathed a prayer of relief. Not only did he have a wonderful new facility in which to hold his Sunday school, but also he would no longer have to get up early each Sunday morning to clear away everything from the party the night before and sweep up cigar butts and mop up spilled beer.
Around the time the new facility opened, D.L. received some more good news. Emma was pregnant and expecting their first child in October.
In the spring of 1864 D.L. visited the Union troops under the command of Major General Oliver Howard, encamped near Cleveland, Tennessee. These troops were preparing to join General Sherman on his march into Georgia. D.L. preached day and night among the troops, urging them to give their lives to Christ before they once again headed into battle.
Back in Chicago D.L. kept busy reaching out to the poor of the city with the gospel. He encouraged other Christians to do likewise in engaging ways. In a talk he gave on the subject to a group of church people, he said, “We don’t make our services interesting enough to get unconverted people to come. We don’t expect them to come—we’d be surprised enough if they did. To make the services interesting and profitable, ask the question, How can this be done? You must wake the people up. If you can’t talk, read a verse of Scripture and let God speak. Bring up the question, What more can we do in our district? Get those who never do anything to say what they think ought to be done and then ask them if they are doing it. Don’t get in a rut. I abominate ruts. Perhaps I dread them too much, but there is nothing I fear more.”
In this regard, D.L. found himself in a predicament as 1864 progressed. His Sunday school had become so successful that many parents became Christians and wanted the evening meetings he held to become a real church. D.L. tried as hard as he could to interest the new converts to attend the churches around Chicago, but these new Christians refused. They felt uncomfortable in these churches with “all the trimmings” and were self-conscious wearing their cheap, worn clothing while everyone else had on his or her Sunday best. Worst of all, as far as D.L. was concerned, they found the sermons at these churches to be too complicated, and they could not understand what the pastor was saying.
As D.L. pondered what to do about the situation, news from the Civil War battlefields continued to reach Chicago. In March 1864 General Grant had been promoted and given command of the Union army. Now he was in Virginia fighting around Richmond and Petersburg, where he had engaged Robert E. Lee and his Confederate army in a series of skirmishes known as the Siege of Petersburg. Grant and the Union army were trying to cut Confederate supply lines and capture the Confederate capital of Richmond.
Meanwhile, farther south, Union troops under the command of General Sherman had pushed into Georgia from Tennessee, and on September 2, 1864, they captured the city of Atlanta. By fall, Sherman’s troops were on the march again, headed from Atlanta across Georgia to Savannah and the sea. As they marched, they left behind a swath of destruction, tearing up railway lines, burning factories, and confiscating grain and cattle to feed the troops. News continued to filter in from the Union campaign in Georgia, and D.L. thought about the men he had preached to near Cleveland, Tennessee. He hoped none of them had died in the fighting without first giving their life to Christ.
