A NEW DISCOVERY.
A COLD, cheerless November afternoon, and the day which had begun
with fog was ending in rain; but it was Sunday, and so the doors of
Jonas Jasper's shed were shut, and he at the farther end was sitting
over his stove, which managed to throw an almost cheerful glow on the
dismal surroundings. Perhaps he could hardly have told you why he
"shut shop" on Sundays. Certainly it was from no thought of keeping
holy the Sabbath day, for God and His law were nothing to Jonas; but
it was a comfortable thing sometimes to shut the doors, and keep warm
and quiet, and in his line of business there wasn't much doing. And
then, too, when nobody was peering in and out, he could count over his
savings, that were so slyly stowed away in that old pickle jar up in
the corner. Not that they amounted to much; but still there was enough
to keep Jonas from the workhouse yet a while, even if he "retired from
business," as folk say. That was the one dread of his life—lest he
should end his days as a pauper. But of the afterward of those days he
never thought, or of the moment when pauper and prince alike should
stand before God in judgment, to give an account, not of poverty or of
riches, but of how they had treated the Lord Jesus Christ, whom God had
sent to save sinners.
And so this afternoon, as usual, the money had been counted and added
to, and the old man had smoked his pipe, and read his newspaper, and
dozed for an hour or more, when he was roused up by a knocking at the
door of his shed, and Rob's voice breaking the dismal silence.
"Please, Mr. Jasper, it's Rob."
"Oh, it's you, is it?" and making his way to the door, Jonas drew the
bolt, and admitted his little, ragged, shivering, dripping visitor.
"Well, Rob, what's brought you round here? I thought you'd got a tea on
at your mission place?"
"So we have, Mr. Jasper; but I've got something for you, and I wanted
to bring it quick. See here!" and Rob displayed from under his little
jacket (hardly big enough to be any protection) a nicely illuminated
text, which his teacher had given him that afternoon for his old
friend. "Isn't it beautiful, Mr. Jasper? Look at the flowers all
painted so lovely, and the colours?"
Jasper smiled. "My old eyes won't hurry themselves," he said. "I can't
see yet. We must have more light, I reckon; put a match to the lamp,
Rob, and hand down my glasses. Now then, we'll have a look. What's it
all about, eh? 'He careth for you.' Humph! It's very pretty to look at;
but I don't see much meaning in it."
"But teacher said I was to tell you that 'He' is God, and 'you' is Mr.
Jasper, and so you were to read it, 'God careth for Mr. Jasper;' and
it's out of the Bible, and so it is quite true." Having delivered his
gift and his message, Rob sat down and watched his old friend.
"Oh, that's what he says, is it? Well, Rob, I think different to that.
I don't think God has ever cared much about me, or I about Him. I've
gone on my own way, and never harmed anybody as I know of, so He's had
no cause to interfere with me; and when my time comes to go, well, I
must take my chance with the rest."
"But where shall you go when your 'time comes,' Mr. Jasper?"
Jonas was silent for a moment, and then answered, "I don't see as
anybody can tell, Rob, so it's no use wasting time talking about it.
Just fetch down the cups, and we'll have some tea; you look as though
you'd be none the worse for it."
But there was a cloud on Rob's face. "I thought you'd like that card so
much," he said, "and teacher hoped you'd put it up against your wall."
"So I will, Rob, and you shall fix it where you please, if you can find
any room."
In an instant the child was on his feet, trying one place after
another, and finally resting it on a strip of wood just opposite the
old man's chair. "That's lovely," he said; "but oh my!"
"What's the matter, Rob?"
"Doesn't it make the wall look dirty?"
Jasper glanced up, and there, truly enough, the clean white card, with
God's message upon it, made everything around look almost black in
contrast.
[Illustration]
"Dear me, Rob, I didn't know my old place was so dirty, and 'tisn't
long ago I gave it a touch of whitewash. Seems to me the card and the
place don't agree very well. Anyhow, 'tis pretty; and now we'll have
our tea, such as 'tis. But you won't have any cake here, Rob, like you
would have done at the Hall."
"I'd rather be with you, Mr. Jasper, and have no cake."
"Would you now?" and a glow of pleasure shot into the old man's heart
at this childish test of love. "Do you care so much for me as all that,
Rob?" As he said the words, his eyes fell once more upon the text, "He
careth," the very word he used himself about Rob. What had he meant by
it? Love, and a desire to be with him; and could it be that God had any
such feelings towards him? "He, God, careth for you, Mr. Jasper," and
it was in the Bible. That was the message Rob had brought. Well, the
Bible was true, for certain; he had never doubted that. But this was a
staggerer! That he, Jasper, as a man, was anything to God, seemed so
utterly strange and new.
"'He,' 'you,' like as if there was only the two of us," he half
muttered to himself; and then for some minutes there was silence, while
the child ate his tea, and the old man, pretending to eat, was lost in
thought.
"God don't care about me, or I about Him," he had said a few minutes
before. But there, in front of him, was God's contradiction of half the
words! True enough it was of him, that he had cared nothing for God all
these long years; but perhaps God had cared for him! Loved him, liked
to be with him! Ay, the lads had often told him that Jesus Christ was
in that dark shed of his; but he had only laughed, although perhaps the
words had not been utterly lost, and sometimes, when sitting alone, the
thought of God's presence—there because everywhere—would come into his
mind, and make him somewhat uneasy. But now a fresh idea had struck
him. Was God in that shed of his because He loved him and liked to be
with him? Nay, it could not be. And yet there, in the dim light and the
silence (for Rob had fallen asleep in his warm corner), old Jonas sat
and thought, and the words echoed and re-echoed, "careth for you."
Somehow that word seemed to mean so much just then. God takes an
interest in you; God thinks of you; God loves you. And then a memory
of long years ago flashed a new light upon the words, and he recalled
how once, and only once, the strong love of his man's heart had been
repulsed with the words, "But I don't care for you, Jonas." Even now
the memory of that early love, refused, rejected, was deep in his
heart. And could it be, though he had said to God, "I don't care for
You," that God still loved him, and wanted him for His own?
"Well, I don't rightly understand it," he muttered; "but there's
something comfortable about it anyhow, and maybe some time I'll know
better what it means. Halloa, there's some one at the door. That must
be Phil, for certain."
Phil it was, who, having stayed to the tea at the Mission Hall, came in
to fetch his brother home.
"I wanted him to go back to you, and have a good feed, Phil," said
Jasper; "but he was minded to stay here with me, and put up his card
that he brought."
Phil glanced up at the wall. "It looks nice up there," he said. "Only—"
and he hesitated.
"Only what, boy?"
"How it does show up the wall all round."
"Well, that's what Rob said; it's too clean for my place."
Phil was silent for a moment, and then sitting down, he said, in that
queer, old-fashioned way of his, "I think that's what God's Word
generally does, Mr. Jasper; it shows us up. Mr. Armstrong said the
other day that we don't find out how filthy sin makes us until we see
what God says about it in His Word. Every wrong thing we do or say
leaves a stain upon us, and then, when we put our lives alongside of
God's Word we find out how filthy we are; and so I was thinking, you
didn't know how dirty your old wall was until Rob put up the clean
text. And perhaps, Mr. Jasper—" and Phil hesitated, as though afraid of
saying too much.
"Well, lad, what is it?"
"Perhaps, if you were to take down your old Bible and read it
sometimes, you would find out how black you are, and then Jesus would
wash you in His blood, and make you quite clean." Phil ceased, almost
frightened at his own boldness.
But Jasper was not offended; so Phil took courage, and went on, "You
see, Mr. Jasper, you've often told us you've never wronged anybody, or
cursed like father does; but there's lots of other things are wrong,
that leave their marks upon us, only you haven't found them out yet;
and I was thinking you had better know all about it, because, you see,
it would be dreadful to die, and find it out afterwards! Now, Rob, we
must be off, or father will be angry. Good-night, Mr. Jasper."
Out into the cold and the darkness went the two boys, leaving their
old friend in a strangely disturbed state of mind. Rob's message and
Phil's were so different; the one comforting, the other arousing. Yet
both were true; but Phil's was uppermost just now. Perhaps, after all,
his life in God's sight wouldn't bear inspection. Nay, deep down in his
heart he knew it wouldn't. God's Word (he used to read it long ago)
would "show him up," and prove him a sinner; and once more his eyes
fell upon the clean text that made all around look so soiled.
But yet the very God whose word would convince him of sin was the God
that "cared" for him; and so, with strangely conflicting ideas the
old man blew out his lamp, and ascending the ladder that led to his
bedroom, soon forgot in sleep all that perplexed him.