I sat in a small, mean little cabin on our coast some time ago while a
trained nurse from New York washed a sick baby and taught the mother how
to save the poor little mite's life. It was that gentlewoman's ministry
for Jesus Christ. For the privilege she was paying her own expenses and
receiving no salary. If ever I realized the Master standing by in my
life it was then and there in the semi-darkness of that hut. _That_
kind of ministry never fails to grip the laboring man. An hour later, as
I spoke to a preacher about this angel of mercy, he said, "Yes, but it
is a pity she is a Roman Catholic." Yes, it is hard, this faith in Jesus
Christ. It will bring her no praise of men. Yet it was such sermons as
this nurse's that Jesus thought it worth while wasting his time on, when
the world lacked theology far more than it does today. Those sermons of
his in their modest settings have been the most brilliant of the world's
possessions ever since. I think the Church grades her preachers wrongly.
There is no failure of Christ's aims. His message is bearing fruit in
the hearts of many men whom the-necessary-to-define-your-mental-attitude
school would rule out of the kingdom. Even Elijah made a mistake in the
matter of how many servants God had.