BY EMMA HOWELL COOPER

This article, which first appeared in the September 13, 1979, issue of the Adventist Review, has been a favorite of readers ever since. Because of frequent requests, we ran it again in our November 21, 1991, issue. But the inquiries keep coming, so here it is—for the third time—Editors.

thousand dollars is a lot of money to keep in a small safe. Yet W. H. Williams, undertreasurer of the General Conference, asked his secretary to place 10 $100 bills in an envelope, date it, mark the amount, and put the envelope into the office safe. In subsequent weeks the secretary stuffed, dated, and marked other envelopes, also storing them in the safe.

Being a keen financier, Elder Williams understood the currencies of many lands. The Lord needed just such a man in 1933. That was a time of depression. Funds were scarce, and many people were going hungry. The world budget of the church had been cut at the annual meeting, and a general feeling of concern prevailed.

Elder Williams had charge of the flow of denominational funds in and out of the General Conference with respect to both the world field and the North American Division. Because of this, he did his banking not only in Takoma Park [Maryland] and downtown Washington, D.C., but in New York City as well. The $1,000 amounts Elder Williams directed his secretary, Chester Rogers, to put into the office safe were funds he had withdrawn periodically from the General Conference account at the Takoma Park bank. His secretary wondered why he made these withdrawals.

But the drawing of cash from the bank and then storing it in the office safe was not the only strange thing that the secretary had noticed Elder Williams doing lately. He had recently written letters to the overseas divisions urging them to send in their budget requests for the next Annual Council. This was far in advance of the usual schedule. Why all the rush?

Then Elder Williams further complicated the situation by asking Mr. Rogers to drive him to Union Station in downtown Washington so that he could take the midnight train for an unscheduled trip to New York City. Of course, Elder Williams frequently went to New York City to arrange to send mission funds by cable to the various division offices, but this time it was fully 10 days before the date such a trip normally would have been scheduled. Why did he need to go to New York City that night? Mr. Rogers wondered, but asked no questions.

A few days later in a regular morning chapel service at the General Conference office, Elder Williams told the office a story that made a lasting impression on everyone pres-ent. Here it is as told in his own words:

It was closing time on March 2. People were rushing home from work while I sat alone in my office enjoying the quiet hush after a busy day. Because my wife was not at home, there was no need for me to hurry to an empty house. “I will go home and go to bed early,” I mused to myself.

Just then there was a pressure on my shoulder, and a clear voice commanded: “Go to New York City tonight.”

I sat up and braced myself in my chair. Then I bowed my head and prayed, “Lord, I have no authority to transact business in New York City at this time. What am I to do when I get there?”

The pressure continued: Go!

I was tired. I dreaded a late-night trip to Union Station by streetcar. Had Chester Rogers gone yet? Stepping outside my office, I met my faithful secretary.

“Chester, will you take me to the train tonight?” I asked. To this he agreed without question.

Early the next morning I arrived in New York City. I prayed that the Lord would keep me from any improper transactions that day. Why was I there, anyway? As the morning advanced, the answer came clearly: “Go to the two banks and send the mission money to each division.” But this was too early in the month, I reasoned with the Lord. However, there seemed to be no alternative.

When the banks opened that Friday morning, I found myself at the first bank, facing the teller who normally handled our mission transactions. He knew our schedule. Would he straighten me out? I wondered. But the teller did not raise so much as an eyebrow at seeing me that day at such an early hour.

When I told him that I wished to send the mission funds to the usual places, he replied, “Yes, Mr. Williams, I’ll be happy to care for that.”

Three Times the Amount
After checking to be sure he had the correct addresses, I gave him a list of the various amounts to send to each division. As I did so I found myself saying, “In fact, I’d like to send three times our regular amount in each case, please.”

With a telescopic view, my mind’s eye could see the figures of our accounts. Yes, we had enough in the bank to cover three months’ appropriations for each place, but it certainly would leave little in reserve!

The teller indicated that he would carry out my wishes. After turning away from the window, I stepped back again. “You’ll be sure to attend to this at once, please?” I urged.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Williams; it will be the next thing I do,” replied the teller.

When I had gone there that morning I had been trembling so much that I could scarcely walk. But inside the bank all my quaking and fears had vanished. Out on the street the shaking returned. How could I ever explain to the General Conference officers what I had just done without their authorization?

Again I felt the pressure on my shoulder and heard more words: “Go to the other bank and send those funds now.” The voice sounded as though there was no time to lose!

Again I followed the instruction. At the second bank I again met a cordial reception, and I transferred the mission funds in exactly the same manner I had at the first bank, not forgetting to caution the teller that the money should be cabled at once, and receiving the same assurance I had at the first bank.

Then the next step became clear to me: I must cable the divisions and say, “Conserve funds. Letter follows.” Having attended to this, I suddenly realized that I was completely exhausted.

It was a relief to think that now I could take the train back to Washington and the streetcar to Takoma Park. I would arrive in midafternoon, and the General Conference offices would be closed. However, there would be many Seventh-day Adventists scurrying here and there on the streets, preparing for the Sabbath. I preferred not to meet anyone.

Since the streetcar line ends in front of a shopping area,* I wondered if anyone would tell me that I had been needed in the office that morning. In weariness and apprehension I prayed, “Lord, let me get home alone. Don’t let me be obliged to talk with anyone when I get back. Please help me!”

I must have dozed a bit. All at once I realized that we were being switched onto a siding. Soon the conductor explained that there had been a wreck ahead, and it would be some time before the track was cleared. When finally I arrived at Union Station in downtown Washington and then made my way to Takoma Park by streetcar, it was already dark.

In the Morning I Understood
The streets were deserted. I walked the few blocks to my home on Carroll Avenue without meeting a person I knew. Soon I was in bed, after praying that the Lord would grant me a good night’s rest and would prevent my awakening on the Sabbath with my mind in a turmoil over the past day’s activities.

The Lord granted my request, for I slept soundly. In fact, Sabbath was well along before I awakened to find the sun shining across my bed. It was March 4, 1933, and it was the day a new United States president was to be inaugurated—Franklin D. Roosevelt. For a moment I lay there. How good it was to relax!

Then through my open window came the raucous voice of a newsboy: “Extra! Extra! Banks closed! Extra! Banks closed nationwide!”

I sprang from my bed. In my pajamas I rushed to the door for a newspaper. I had to know what had happened! And there it was—a two-inch-high black headline proclaiming: “Banks Closed Nationwide!” As I began to realize what this meant, tears came to my eyes, making it difficult for me to read.

I was deeply humbled to realize that the Lord had used me to save most of our mission funds. I spent the rest of the Sabbath alone with God, praising the Lord. I prayed that He would always keep me humble in His service.

Immediately after sundown my telephone rang sharply. It was Elder J. L. Shaw, our General Conference treasurer. He was calling a meeting of the treasury personnel immediately in his office. “You have heard the news,” he said. “What will we do to support our missionaries?” Then he hung up before I could answer.

I noticed that as the treasurers entered Elder Shaw’s office, everyone was tense, and all were talking in subdued tones. All were especially concerned for our overseas workers. “With the banks closed there will be no funds to support the missionaries in the field; neither will there be money with which to bring them home,” Elder Shaw explained to us.

A Providence Shared In a letter dated January 5, 1975, to Elder Robert E. Osborn, then General Conference associate treasurer, the author showed how God had extended the blessings of the miracle of 1933. She explained how, through a combination of circumstances, she came to be sent to New York 17 years later (in 1950) to represent the church at an international nursing convention. She wrote: “At the first intermission I stood at my seat, drawing a diagram of the convention seating, etc. All at once I realized I was surrounded, and, looking up, found quite a group of nurses, all wishing to talk. I tried to explain that I was not a nurse, only a stenographer there to take notes for Miss Burnett. They said, ‘But you are from the SDA headquarters?’ “‘Yes.’ . . . “They said they were all missionary nurses of various denominations, and each and all wished to send thanks to the Medical Department of the Seventh-day Adventists for the timely help they had received during the time of the terrible bank closure in the U.S.A. They felt it would have gone hard with them indeed had it not been that the SDA nurses in their various areas somehow got their usual pay—and . . . shared with those whose denominations had not been able to provide.”

At that point I requested permission to speak. I quietly related to them my story.

We had a prayer season that evening instead of a business meeting. Instead of agonized prayers for help, there were prayers of praise and gratitude for God’s wonderful guidance. Nor did we forget to beseech Him to keep us humble in the future. O that He might always lead us as He had in this instance, we prayed.

As we rose from our knees, someone remarked that we had been so concerned for our overseas missionaries that we had given no thought to the need of our workers at headquarters. How would we provide for them? How long would the banks be closed? Then I remembered the $1,000 items in the little safe in my office. Quickly we counted the envelopes. With care there would be enough cash with which to meet our payroll for the next three months—the same length of time for which we had sent funds the day before to the overseas divisions.

* * *

When Elder Williams sat down that morning, it was evident that the congregation had been greatly moved.

Thousands of small banks went permanently out of business on March 4, 1933. Many large banks and some small strong banks did not open again until after a panic-filled period had passed—a period of three months. During that time it was not possible to send funds out of the United States.

During this time the Seventh-day Adventist Mission Board did not recall one missionary. Neither did the General Conference find it necessary to borrow funds in order to carry on its work, and the payroll for the General Conference was met on schedule, during the time the banks were closed, from the dated and marked envelopes in the little safe in Elder Williams’ office.

*The streetcar line was removed decades ago.
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Emma Howell Cooper, now deceased, was a secretary in the Youth Department of the General Conference when this story took place.