The year 1871 was a critical time in the life of D. L. Moody. He felt his personal need of greater power with God. This feeling was intensified by the visits to his meetings of two godly women who told him that they were praying for him. He said to them, “Why don’t you pray for the people?” “Because you need the power of the Spirit,” they replied. He had them visit him, and pray with and for him, that he might have this spiritual power. The hunger increased. He said, “I really felt that I did not want to live if I could not have this power for service.” While he was in this mental and spiritual condition Chicago was laid in ashes. The great fire commenced on October 8, 1871 and swept out of existence both Farwell Hall and the Illinois Street Church. He had been preaching a series of sermons in Farwell Hall on Bible characters. On this night the court-house bell was sounding an alarm of fire, but Moody paid no attention to it. They were accustomed to hearing the fire bell often, and it did not disturb them much when it sounded. He finished his sermon. On the way home from meeting Mr. Moody saw the glare of flames, and he knew it meant ruin to Chicago. About one o’clock Farwell Hall was burned; soon his church-building went down.
Everything was scattered. It was thought for a time that the fire had been checked, but soon the alarm was given that the fire had crossed the river and was rapidly advancing. It was too late to think of saving much more than could be carried in the hands. A neighbor took Mr. Moody’s two children in his already crowded carriage and made his escape north. A few articles of silver and some valued tokens of friendship were hastily placed in a baby-cart. But there was one item Mrs. Moody’s heart was set upon saving—a portrait of Mr. Moody by the artist Healy. It had been presented to Mrs. Moody at the same time that they were presented with a free lease of their home, completely furnished. This portrait Mrs. Moody prized above anything else the home contained. A stranger assisted in taking it from the wall. Calling Mr. Moody, his wife urged him to save it for her. But he refused. The canvas was hastily knocked out of the gold frame and carried by Mrs. Moody herself. A black eye and a bruised face were part of the price paid for this effort, for once on the street it was a constant struggle between the bearer of the panel and the terrific wind that was blowing for possession of the prize. Love won, but only after a continuous battle. When they were safe Mr. Moody said, “Wouldn’t it have been amusing for me to take my own picture! Suppose I was met on the street by friends in the same plight as ourselves, and they said, ‘Hello, Moody, glad you have escaped; what’s that you have saved and cling to so affectionately?’ Wouldn’t it have sounded well to reply, ‘Oh, I’ve got my own picture?’ ” As soon as his wife and family were safe with friends Mr. Moody devoted himself to relief work. He went East to raise money for the homeless, and also for a new church-building. George H. Stuart and John Wanamaker, of Philadelphia, and other friends,
raised three thousand dollars, and a temporary building 75 by 100 feet was immediately reared on a lot not far from the site of the former church. On December 24, 1871, just two months and fifteen days after the fire, this building, known as the North Side Tabernacle, was dedicated. But that Eastern visit produced greater blessings in Mr. Moody’s life. The hunger for more spiritual power was still upon him. The fire did not dismiss the yearning. Mr. Moody said, “My heart was not in the work of begging. I could not appeal. I was crying all the time that God would fill me with his Spirit. Well, one day, in the city of New York—oh, what a day! I cannot describe it, I seldom refer to it, it is almost too sacred an experience to name. Paul had an experience of which he never spoke for fourteen years. I can only say that God revealed himself to me, and I had such an experience of his love that I had to ask him to stay his hand. I went to preaching again. The sermons were not different; I did not present any new truths, and yet hundreds were converted. I would not now be placed back where I was before that blessed experience if you should give me all the world—it would be as the small dust of the balance.” Upon his return to Chicago his mission work at the new tabernacle went along successfully. Revival fires were kindled anew and blazed long and bright. Within a year steps were taken to erect a permanent building. Contributions came in from all quarters, thousands of Sunday-school children contributing five cents each to buy bricks. Finally means were provided for the completion of a permanent church building which became known as the Chicago Avenue Church, or Moody’s Church. Five years after the fire, on his return from abroad, Mr. Moody wrote his old church, the Chicago Avenue Church which he loved
so dearly, a letter, extracts from which show something of the inner workings of his heart and mind. He wrote: “The only way any church can get a blessing is to lay aside all difference, all criticism, all coldness and party feeling, and come to the Lord as one man; and when the church lives in the power of the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians I am sure that many will be added daily to the flock of God. I would like to have the church read that chapter together on their knees on Thursday and, as you do so, pray God to apply it with power. Of late my earnest prayer to God has been that he would help me to save more, and I cannot tell you how wonderfully he has answered my prayer. It seems as if you were all much nearer and dearer to me than ever. My heart goes out to you, and I long to see you all coming constantly to God for a fresh supply of love.”