41. Frank W. Boreham (1871–1959)
It amazes me that my favorite biographical handbook, Who Was Who in Church History, mentions Caesar Borgia and William Briconnet, but contains not one line about Frank W. Boreham. I can easily conceive of a preacher getting along in his ministry knowing nothing about Borgia’s sensuous intrigues or Briconnet’s cowardly defections; but how he could get along knowing nothing about Boreham’s A Bunch of Everlastings, or his beloved flock at Mosgiel, New Zealand, or his hundreds of delightful essays is really more than I can understand. I trust that a generation ignorant of Frank W. Boreham has not arisen. If this be the case, however, let me remedy it immediately by devoting a chapter to this world-famous British preacher and essayist. The moderator of the Church of Scotland once introduced Boreham as “the man whose name is on all our lips, whose books are on all our shelves and whose illustrations are in all our sermons.” Fortunate is the pastor who gets to know and love the writings of Boreham.
“Salvoes of artillery and peals of bells echoed across Europe on the morning of my birth,” wrote Boreham in the first paragraph of his delightful autobiography, My Pilgrimage. It was Friday, March 3, 1871, the day the Franco-Prussian War ended. When he was four months old, he was on an outing with his nurse when a gypsy caravan passed by and an old gypsy woman, noticing the child, came over to them. She looked at the little boy’s hand and said to the nurse, “Tell his mother to put a pen in his hand and he’ll never want for a living.” The prophecy proved true: Boreham became one of the world’s most prolific religious writers, with more than fifty books to his credit, not to speak of hundreds of newspaper and magazine articles and essays.
As the boy grew up, he was introduced to both the things of the Spirit and the things of the mind. Faithful Christian parents saw to it that he was trained in the Word of God and also that he learned to appreciate good reading (children learn to appreciate good books by contagion, not compulsion). Frank’s father, noticing that Frank was reading some shallow novels, introduced him to the vast treasures of biography, and the boy was “hooked for life.” At sixteen Frank decided to go to London and get a job; this proved to be the first of several turning points in his life. He had trained himself in shorthand, at which he was very competent, and he had beautiful copperplate script, so landing a job was no great problem. After a short stay with a real estate firm, he worked for a London railroad.
London in 1887 was an exciting place. Charles H. Spurgeon was preaching (when not incapacitated by gout) at the Metropolitan Tabernacle; Joseph Parker was electrifying congregations at the City Temple; J. Hudson Taylor was challenging Christians with the needs of China; and F. B. Meyer was teaching believers the joys and victories of the Christian life.
“Honesty compels me to confess,” Boreham wrote, “not without shame, that Mr. Spurgeon never really appealed to me. It was, of course, my fault. . . . I enjoyed every sermon that I heard Mr. Spurgeon preach; I marveled at his power to attract the multitudes; I was thankful for his enormous influence. But he never gripped me as some other preachers did.”1 The great preacher’s poor health those closing years may help to explain Boreham’s evaluation. It was F. B. Meyer who attracted and held the young man from Tunbridge Wells. Boreham attended Meyer’s church in Regent’s Park and also the famous Saturday afternoon Bible classes at Aldersgate Street, directed especially to the young men of the city. “I really think that we lived for those Saturday afternoons,” Boreham said in his autobiography. “We counted the hours till they came; and, when they came, they never failed to minister to us such hope and faith and courage as sent us back to our tasks with higher spirits and with braver hearts.”2
There is no doubt that Meyer’s positive ministry of encouragement helped to mold Boreham’s own ministry, for, like Barnabas, Frank Boreham was “a son of encouragement” (Acts 4:36). Meyer was a Baptist and Boreham had been raised an Anglican, but Boreham’s own study of the Bible had convinced him that he should be immersed. So on Easter Tuesday evening, 1890, he was immersed at the Stockwell Old Baptist Church. Little did he realize that his Baptist associations would play an important role in his life and ministry.
In 1891 he united with Kenyon Baptist Church in Brixton, whose pastor, James Douglas, was a good friend of Spurgeon. When the pastor discovered that Boreham was considering the ministry, he naturally urged him to apply to Spurgeon’s Pastors’ College. Boreham did, and he was the last student that Spurgeon personally selected before his lamented death on January 31, 1892. The Spurgeon family would be used of God to direct Boreham’s ministry in ways that he never dreamed of, but all of which were part of God’s plan.
In 1894, Thomas Spurgeon returned to London after ministering in New Zealand, and he brought with him from a new church at Mosgiel a request for a pastor. Founded by Scottish immigrants, the Mosgiel church was ten years old and gave promise of being an effective work for the Lord. The college staff decided that Boreham was their man. After a conference with Thomas Spurgeon and with Boreham’s parents, the student (who still had one year’s training before him) decided it was the Lord’s will that he terminate his work at the college and sail for New Zealand. At the farewell service, held at the tabernacle, Boreham made a prophecy of his own that, in the providence of God, came true: “And it is my hope that in the course of my ministry I shall hold three pastorates, and then be free to travel in many lands preaching the everlasting gospel among all denominations.”
He served in Mosgiel, New Zealand; Hobart, Tasmania; and Armadale, Australia; and then he traveled to many lands and preached to vast congregations. When he was unable to travel personally, his books carried his messages; and it is these that I want to discuss. If you are interested in the story of his life—and you ought to be—then secure My Pilgrimage, published in the United States by Judson Press; and also The Story of F. W. Boreham, written by T. Howard Crago.
Boreham had begun writing while a youth in London, but his newspaper articles, plus a devotional booklet, had caused little stir. He knew the gift was there; it would simply take time to develop and discipline it. His first love was preaching, but there was no reason why he could not also write. After all, his spiritual mentor, F. B. Meyer, was the author of dozens of books; even Spurgeon made good use of his pen.
After setthng down in Mosgiel, Boreham hit upon the idea of publishing a sermon each week in the local newspaper, an idea that the editor approved with enthusiasm. Many readers were unable to travel to church every Sunday, and the printed sermon would meet their needs. In the beginning Boreham solicited sermons from other pastors, but their contributions gradually fell off, leaving it to Boreham to fill up the two columns each week. He enjoyed the discipline of writing out a message, and the publication of his messages in the newspaper helped to fill his church. In time, other newspapers “down under” were reprinting his material, and several editors asked him for original material for their publications. In the years to come, most of his essays would first be shared by several periodicals and then published in book form.
His first book, The Luggage of Life, was turned down by Hodder and Stoughton, but Epworth Press accepted it and launched him into his phenomenal literary career.3 At one time during his ministry, Boreham was publishing two books a year, with no diminishing of sales. Needless to say, Hodder and Stoughton was embarrassed at the loss of such a successful writer; in later years it tried to capture him for its list, but without success.
I think the best of Boreham to read first is the first volume of his Texts That Made History series (reprinted by Judson Press), A Bunch of Everlastings. The story behind this unique five-volume series is this: Boreham was about to begin a Sunday evening series on “The Specters of the Mind,” when it dawned on him that a series on alternate Sunday evenings would encourage the congregation to return week after week. As if by inspiration, it came to him to preach on “Texts That Made History”; and thus he announced that the next Sunday evening he would preach on “Martin Luther’s Text.” Subsequent sermons were “John Bunyan’s Text,” “Oliver Cromwell’s Text,” “John Wesley’s Text,” etc., putting to practical use Boreham’s interest in biography. Little did he realize that these sermons would continue for 125 Sunday evenings and attract more interest and win more people to Christ than any other series he preached.
Every preacher ought to secure these five volumes, read them, and index them—and beware of stealing Boreham’s sermons! Following A Bunch of Everlastings, look for A Handful of Stars, A Temple of Topaz, A Casket of Cameos, and A Faggot of Torches. Turn next to his essays; you have over forty volumes to choose from! By all means secure the first book he published, The Luggage of Life, and I would also suggest The Other Side of the Hill and Home Again, The Silver Shadow, The Last Milestone (which contains many of his pithy biographical essays on famous people and events), The Passing of John Broadbanks, and Mushrooms on the Moor. But selecting a Boreham book is like choosing a beautiful rose from a large bouquet, or selecting a dessert from a tray of French pastries—you can never make a mistake.
To be sure, the essays in each book are of uneven quality and some will strike your fancy more than others, but all of them will do you good. I personally prefer his autobiographical essays dealing with the church at Mosgiel or with his good friend “John Broadbanks.” Once you have met “Tammas” and “Wullie” and “Gavin,” you will fall in love with them, and no doubt identify them with people you have met in your own church. And it will not take you long to discover who “John Broadbanks” really is. It does my soul good to reach across the miles and the years to “fellowship” with the Mosgiel congregation and to share their joys and sorrows, their disagreements, and their “love affair” with their pastor.
Let me warn you: Frank Boreham will not tell you how to double attendance at the evening service, increase the budget, or expand the youth ministry. But he will put you in touch with the essentials of life.
Everything he saw, heard, and experienced became a part of his treasury from which, in later years, he brought out “things new and old.” Can you imagine writing an essay on “The Man in the Moon,” or “Maxims of the Mud,” or “Wet Paint”? It is this kind of imaginative writing that can teach and encourage the preacher to be alert to life and to make sure that his messages take hold of reality. Boreham said: “We shall never attract or arrest our hearers by an elaborate display of theology. . . . Theology is to a sermon what a skeleton is to the body: it gives shape and support to the preacher’s utterance without itself being visible.” Boreham was not an expositor of the Scriptures in the manner of Spurgeon or Maclaren, but he was a biblical preacher and writer who reached many people who perhaps would have turned away from the conventional sermonic approach. I am not suggesting that you imitate his style; I am suggesting that you get excited about the potential in the common things around you.
Boreham was a disciplined reader. Early in his ministry he determined to read at least one book a week, and often he exceeded his quota. While he especially enjoyed biography and autobiography, he did not limit himself. Whenever he had an idea for an essay or a sermon, he immediately wrote it down and filed it away. (Whenever he went on vacation, he buried his precious notes and manuscripts in the backyard, lest the house burn down and they be lost.) By constantly adding to his treasury, he was never at a loss for new ideas; not until late in his life was the treasury exhausted. After he had retired from the pastoral ministry, he was still getting literary dividends from ideas he had noted years before. “Write it down!” was a basic rule of life, and he even kept pen and paper next to his bed in case a night visitor should come and otherwise be lost by morning. By the way, I should mention that Boreham wrote all his material by hand. At one stage he tried using a typewriter, but his muse was not mechanical.
Pastors will be interested in three convictions that Boreham held. First, he was sure that nobody wanted to be visited immediately after the noon meal; so he went to bed every afternoon and slept for one hour. This helps to explain why he lived such a long life—eighty-eight years (he died on May 18, 1959). Second, he was always punctual, and was unhappy with anybody who was not. While never in a hurry, he was always busy. He disciplined himself to do the important things and wasted no time on the trivial. Third, he was convinced that no pastor could preach two entirely new sermons each Lord’s Day and do his best; so he always revised an old sermon for one of the Sunday services. He did not simply repreach it. He revised a sermon and tried to give it a fresh approach based on experience gained since the first time it was preached. He wrote:
Dr. Parker taught me—as also did Dr. Meyer—the high art of repeating myself. I heard Dr. Meyer say identically the same thing on half a dozen different occasions. But he displayed such craftsmanship in his repetition that, unless you had previously heard him say it, you would never have suspected him of having said the same thing before.4
Alas, many pastors do not work at revising their messages. They find it easier to change churches and use the same material over again.
One of the penalties of effectiveness in writing and preaching is plagiarism, and Frank Boreham was plagiarized much of his life. One American preacher told an Australian friend that he would hate to meet Boreham: “I’ve plagiarized so many of his sermons, I couldn’t bear to look him in the eye!” One London preacher even dared to preach one of Boreham’s sermons over the BBC. Unfortunately for him, Boreham’s father was listening. He recognized the sermon, identified it in one of his son’s books, and wrote the preacher a rather pointed letter. The man sent his apology and even wrote Dr. Boreham, but sad to say, he felt that since the sermon was already in print, it was worth sharing with others. (This brings to mind the fact that G. Campbell Morgan was often plagiarized. When it was announced that he was to preach in various places, he would often receive anonymous letters begging him not to preach certain sermons because they had already been preached there—by others!) I wonder at the effectiveness, not to speak of the character, of a man who must steal material in order to minister. If we do borrow, at least we should give credit.
If at first Boreham does not excite you, give him time. He grows on you. He has a way of touching the nerve centers of life and getting to that level of reality that we too often miss. Some may consider him sentimental; others may feel he is a relic of a vanished era. They are welcome to their opinions. But before you pass judgment, read him for yourself, and read enough to give him a fair trial. If you are preaching from Luke 15, read The Prodigal and marvel at Boreham’s new insights into this old story. The Heavenly Octave deals with the beatitudes. There is something for everybody in a Boreham book, because his writing touches on the unchanging essentials of life, not the passing accidentals; we need this emphasis today.