Max Hanson

Born in Denmark during the days of “wooden ships and iron men,” I determined that I would be a sailor and iron man. My time to go to sea came sooner that I expected. My parents had died when I was just a young boy. My grandparents died when I was fourteen years of age, leaving me homeless. So I went to sea.

I sailed with the hardest men on the ships in the North Atlantic. It was a hard life. I thought that in order to be a good skipper, a man needed to stay with his ship when it went down and drink lots of whiskey. Oh, how deceived I was! I started as a cabin boy, and I thought it was smart to drink. It didn’t take me long to become a drunken sailor. There were times when I vowed not to drink again, but as soon as our ship reached a town, I would hop over the railing with the rest of the men, and we would find a saloon. I would say, “Just one drink,” then, “Just one more.” It was one round of defeat after another.

I prayed, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”

I used to think of the days back in Denmark when I would take my grandmother’s hand and go to church with her. I knew Scriptures by heart and could sing the old songs such as, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” and “Stand Up, Stand Up for Jesus.” As I thought of those things, I would promise God that if I ever made port again, I would not drink up my money but I would go home and go to school. But I had no strength in my self to do that.

Oh, how I thank God for the old-time religion, and that I ever had the privilege of meeting a people who have not limited the power of God. In 1913, in the city of Portland, Oregon, I stood on a street corner with my back against the wall—a drunkard, miserable and discouraged, homeless and friendless, just twenty-six years of age. While I stood there with longshoremen, loggers, and sailors of all kinds, some Apostolic Faith people came out to hold a street meeting. They told of what God had done for them. I couldn’t help but believe what they had to say.

One man said, “I have been a brick layer all my life. I have made a lot of money. I had a nice family, but after I was through with the saloonkeeper there wasn’t enough money left to buy schoolbooks for my children. But I found God! He saved me, and from that time to this, I haven’t had any desire for drink, and I am taking good care of my family.”

God’s blessings on my life have been greater than anything I ever expected.

At the close of that street meeting, those people looked down into the crowd where I stood. One man said, “If there is any among you who desire the prayers of God’s people, raise your hand.” I couldn’t afford to turn this invitation down. They brought me to their church, and they prayed for me. I prayed, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” God came down that night and saved this drunken sailor. He sobered me up right there as I was on my knees, and He transformed my life just as these people said He would. I knew I was saved, and the world knew it too.

After I was saved, I had no more desire for the liquor. Instead, I visited the ships that docked
in the Portland harbor and invited those men to come and hear the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

For forty years I wrote to my sisters, telling them that God had saved me, and I wasn’t a drunken sailor any more; they thought I had gotten into some strange American religious sect. Finally, my youngest sister decided to come and see for herself. After attending our church services for about two months, she went away saying, as the Queen of Sheba, “The half had not been told me.”

God’s blessings on my life have been greater than anything I ever expected. I have enjoyed being a Christian through the years. It is my heart’s delight to see other seafaring men find the old-time religion. I know it satisfies and can keep a man in all circumstances. I have proved it.