Two Safe
"God has given me the hunger and thirst for souls;
will He leave me unsatisfied? No verily."
_James Gilmour, Mongolia._
"That one soul has been brought to Christ in the
midst of such hostile influences is so entirely
and marvellously the Holy Spirit's work, that I am
sometimes overjoyed to have been in any degree
instrumental in effecting the emancipation of
one."
_Robert Noble, India._
TWO of our boys are safe. They left us very suddenly. We can hardly
realise they are gone. The younger one was our special boy, the first of
the boys to come, a very dear lad. I think of him as I saw him the last
evening we all spent together, standing out on a wave-washed rock, the
wind in his hair and his face wet with spray, rejoicing in it all. Not
another boy dare go and stand in the midst of that seething foam, but
the spice of danger drew him. He was such a thorough boy!
The call to leave his home for Christ came to him in an open-air meeting
held in his village two years ago. Then there was bitterest shame to
endure. His father and mother, aghast and distressed, did all they could
to prevent the disgrace incurred by his open confession of Christ. He
was an only son, heir to considerable property, so the matter was most
serious. The father loved him dearly; but he nerved himself to flog the
boy, and twice he was tied up and flogged. But they say he never
wavered; only his mother's tears he found hardest to withstand.
Weeks passed of steadfast confession, and then it came to the place of
choice between Christ and home. He chose Christ, and early one morning
left all to follow Him. Do you think it was easy? He was a loving boy.
Could it have been easy to stab his mother's heart?
When the household woke that morning he was on his way to us. The father
gathered his clansmen, and they came in a crowd to the bungalow.
They sat on the floor in a circle, with the boy in their midst, and they
pleaded. I remember the throb of that moment now. A single pulse seemed
to beat in the room, so tense was the tension, until he spoke out
bravely. "I will not go back," he said.
They promised everything--a house, lands, his inheritance to be given at
once, a wife "with a rich dowry of jewels"--all a Tamil boy most desires
they offered him. And they promised him freedom to worship God; "only
come back and save your Caste, and do not break your mother's heart and
disgrace your family."
Day after day they came, sometimes singly, sometimes in groups, but the
mother never came. They described her in heart-moving language. She
neither ate nor slept, they said, but sat with her hair undone, and wept
and wailed the death-wail for her son.
At last they gave up coming, and we were relieved, for the
long-continued strain was severe; and though he never wavered, we knew
the boy felt it. We used to hear him praying for his people, pouring out
his heart when he thought no one was near, sobbing sometimes as he named
their names. The entreaty in the tone would make our eyes wet. If only
he could have lived at home and been a Christian there! But we knew what
had happened to others, and we dare not send him back.
Then a year or so afterward we all went to the water together, and he
and three others were baptised. The first to go down into the water was
the elder boy, Shining of Victory. Shining of Life was second. A few
weeks of bright life--those happy days by the sea--and then in the same
order, and called by the same messenger--the swift Indian messenger,
cholera--they both went down into the other water, and crossed over to
the other side.
Shining of Life was well in the morning, dead in the evening. When first
the pain seized him he was startled. Then, understanding, he lay down in
peace. The heathen crowded in. They could not be kept out. They taunted
him as he lay. "This is your reward for breaking your Caste!" they said.
The agony of cholera was on him. He could not say much, but he pointed
up, "Do not trouble me; this is the way by which I am going to Jesus,"
and he tried to sing a line from one of our choruses, "My Strength and
my Redeemer, my Refuge--Jesus!"
His parents had been sent for as soon as it was known that he was ill.
They hurried over, the poor despairing mother crying aloud imploringly
to the gods who did not hear. He pointed up again; he was almost past
speech then, but he tried to say "Jesus" and "Come."
Then, while the heathen stood and mocked, and the mother beat her breast
and wailed, and the father, silent in his grief, just stood and looked
at his son, the boy passed quietly away. They hardly believed him dead.
Oh, we miss him so much! And our hearts ache for his people, for they
mourn as those who have no hope. But God knows why He took him; we know
it is all right.
Every memory of him is good. When the first sharp strain was over we
found what a thorough boy he was, and in that week by the sea all the
life and fun in him came out, and he revelled in the bathing and
boating, and threw his whole heart into the holiday. We had many hopes
for him; he was so full of promise and the energy of life.
And now it is all over for both. Was it worth the pain it cost? Such a
short time to witness, was it worth while?
It is true it was very short. Most of the little space between their
coming and their going was filled with preparation for a future of
service here. And yet in that little time each of the two found one
other boy who, perhaps, would never have been found if the cost had been
counted too great. And I think, if you could ask them now, they would
tell you Jesus' welcome made it far more than worth while.