Lorenzo Dow (1777-1834) was the quaint, yet colorful figure of pioneer lore who traveled by foot and horseback, preaching the gospel in backwoods camp meetings to thousands of thirsty souls.
Even as a boy, Dow distinguished himself as the village mystic. A bit of a recluse, he could brood for hours on his vivid dreams and spiritual impressions. When he was eight, his parents moved into a vicinity where the young people “were very vile.” There he acquired their expressions and habits, and his serious impressions seeped away. But one day he tried to kill a bird, and was horrified to watch its final gasps. Death became real. Sensing his sinfulness, the fear of death and God’s condemnation haunted him. His fierce dreams plummeted him into despair.
In the year John Wesley died (1791), he had a vivid dream in which an old man (Wesley) appeared to him three times in succession and warned him that he had better pray. “Keen conviction seized my heart; I knew I was unprepared to die. Tears began to run down plentifully, and I again resolved to seek the salvation of my soul.”
He broke off his friendships with the local mischief-makers and began, as best he knew, to learn about Christianity. But he had no one to show him how to be saved. One thing he did pick up was a fatalistic view of the doctrine of predestination. Referring to his dream about Wesley, he says: “Frequently before and after the above, the enemy of souls harassed me much with the forementioned doctrine of reprobation, my view of which excited such enmity and rage against the Supreme Being, as the Author of my most wretched helpless fate, that I cursed and swore, and blasphemed His name, throwing sticks and stones toward heaven, defying Him to come down and destroy me.”
Persuaded that he was predestined to be damned, he loaded a gun and walked into the woods, where he planned to shoot himself. But when about to pull the trigger, he decided to wait a little longer. Providentially, at this time the Methodists came to his town. They were everywhere “spoken against,” but Lorenzo concluded that if he was one of God’s elect they could do him no harm, and if he was eternally reprobated they could do him no injury.
The preacher, Hope Hull, described Lorenzo’s plight so accurately that the nervous teenager literally began to shake. In his agitation, he clutched his cousin to keep from falling off his seat. His conviction of sin became so overwhelming that he collapsed on the road several times on his way home. Reaching home, he prayed for hours until he fell asleep. In that sleep he had another fearsome dream about hell, which shocked him into consciousness. “And, oh! how glad I was to find that it was only a dream,” he wrote.
Praying again, he said, “Lord! I give up; I submit; I yield; I yield; if there be mercy in heaven for me, let me know it; and if not, let me go down to hell and know the worst of my case. As these words flowed from his heart, he records, “I saw the Mediator step in, as it were, between the Father’s justice and my soul, and these words were applied to my mind with great power: ‘Son, thy sins which are many are forgiven thee; thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace.’
“The burden of sin and guilt and the fear of hell vanished from my mind, as perceptibly as a hundred pound weight falling from a man’s shoulder; my soul flowed out in love to God, to His ways and to His people; yea, and to all mankind. My soul was so happy, that I could scarcely settle to work; and I spent the greatest part of the day in going from house to house through the neighborhood, to tell the people what God had done.”
Immediately after he was converted, he joined with the Methodists. He soon felt a compulsion to preach, but resisted it as a temptation. The more he resisted, however, the greater his misery.
In 1796, when nineteen years old, the Methodists gave him their “license” to preach. Soon after this, it became obvious that Lorenzo’s orbit was off course in Methodism’s miniature solar system. On one hand, he enjoyed sweeping success, but the originality of his preaching met with stern reaction from his co-laborers. In his early ministry his clothes wore so thin that he feared, since he had so little money, that he would go naked. Lorenzo then learned how to pray like the psalmist, “I am poor and needy, yet the Lord thinketh upon me.” Besides privation, his “presiding elder” and others criticized him for ignorance, conceit, and for his mannerisms so that he almost halted his preaching. But “the hand of the Lord was heavy on him.” Instead of being resigned, he was re-signed back to the battle lines.
Preaching became a bitter tonic. Lorenzo could scarcely live with it, but he could not live without it. He never enjoyed robust health, but did say that when he preached he felt his health improve. He liked to apply Paul’s saying to himself, “For though I preach the gospel, I have nothing to glory of: for necessity is laid upon me; yea, woe is unto me, if I preach not the gospel!”
Lorenzo was about 5 feet, 10 inches tall, of light complexion, with pock-marked cheeks. He had small, light eyes, dark-brown hair and eyebrows, and small features. He had a quiet vein of humor, and his delivery was daring, energetic, and uncompromising.
In 1799, he dropped out of the Methodist conference, and before the year was out was sailing across the Atlantic to preach to the Roman Catholics of Ireland. Thereafter he pursued his ministry outside of denominational confines.
Lorenzo maintained many Methodist habits such as following circuitous preaching routes, and he kept friendly contact with other preachers among the Methodists. But Dow saw a larger picture, and to the end of his pilgrimage loved to repeat the lines:
Thus names and sects and parties fall,
And Jesus Christ be all in all.
Ireland was probably his most dangerous mission field. He also visited the isle in 1805. Once while riding a canal boat, he discovered that the boat served a double purpose as a gambling den. He tried to purchase the cards from the captain, but he refused to sell them. The captain finally yielded the deck of cards to Dow, who shocked him by throwing them overboard. Things on board became tense, but the happy ending was that a number of the gamblers were convicted of sin and converted.
At Hacklestown, Ireland, two young ladies in a home where Dow stayed overnight were so absorbed in fancifying their dresses that Dow told them, “Every time you wear them, remember another suit you’ll have–the winding sheet.” This morbid reference to their graveclothes made the desired impression. Both were brought to Christ.
So remarkable were Dow’s meetings that many were convinced that he had supernatural powers. While traveling one Sunday to a place where he had planned to preach, Dow overheard a man cursing bitterly. He asked him what the problem was. The man answered that he had an axe stolen the previous evening. “Come along with me to the meeting,” said Dow, ” and I will find your axe.” The man consented, and, as they neared the meeting place, Dow picked up a large stone, which he carried with him into the building and laid on the pulpit in full view. Midway through, he halted, raising the stone in his hand and with a threatening gesture said: “A man in this neighborhood had an axe stolen last night, and if the person who stole it does not dodge, I will hit him on the forehead with this stone.” He made a violent lunge as if he were throwing the stone. The thief ducked in terror.
In another place, a person who had been robbed asked Dow to discover the thief. Dow told him to gather the suspects and to get a black pot and a rooster. Once assembled, Dow put the rooster under the pot, then had the room darkened. He explained that he wanted each one to go up to the pot in the dark, and touch it with his fingers, explaining that when the guilty person touched the pot, the rooster would crow. All complied, and when the lamps were lighted, one person present had no soot on his fingers–the one that had reason to fear touching the pot.
These are fair samples of the novel doings of Lorenzo Dow. His methods were unique. Once he exhorted a hired servant to pray. She complained that she did not have time. Lorenzo’s solution? He gave her a generous day’s wage, with the understanding that she was to spend the whole day in prayer. At one place where Dow was preaching, the young men would leave when the preaching became too heated. Dow’s remedy? He preached with his back against the door. He was direct, fearless, gracious.
In 1834, after 35 years of preaching, Lorenzo Dow laid down his cross to take up his crown.
Material for this article has been taken from:
The Dealings of God, Man, and the Devil: The Life, Experience, and Travels of Lorenzo Dow by Lorenzo Dow
Journey of Life by Peggy Dow